Jayne Doe (11 page)

I look back at her. “I don't understand.”

“Right here.” she points to a space in front of the bed. “She's right here.”

A cold tingle runs up the length of my spine and settles on the back of my neck. “Who's here?” She isn't talking about me. She can't know what Johnny did to my stuff. She doesn't answer and I fight of the urge to grab her. “Who's here?”

“I don't know.” Her eyes glaze over, but a fire still burns behind them.

“Where's the gun?” It's all I can think about, but she won't look at me. “Jillian, who has the gun?”

The smile on her face is terrifying. The bright, glowing lamp on the desk reflects an image in her eyes. It’s a shiny, silver revolver.

“I need you to tell me who has the gun. I can’t help you if won’t tell me.”

Her cheeks fold under a wide grin. “You have it.” The image in her eyes changes.

I'm holding the gun.

The hammer is pulled back.

My finger is on the trigger.

I take my eyes off of Jillian and look down at my traitorous hands.

It's there.

Gripped in my hand. I gasp and drop the cold metal to the ground.

It disappears.

Jillian disappears.

I’m outside in the woods again.

I look up at the sky and close my eyes.
Stephen, I need you.
I stand there and hope he's listening.
I can't do this on my own.
Suddenly, I feel silly talking to someone who isn't there. Maybe he never really was. Maybe he doesn't exist. Maybe nothing does. I’m growing angry as I make my way home. When I get there, a car is parked in the driveway and it's not one I've ever seen before. The imprint of the gun is still in my hand, but I shake it off and run inside. Mom, Billy, Martha, and her dopey boyfriend are all crashed in the living room with the television on. An enthusiastic man on screen rambles on about some weight loss program.

“I want to try that.” Beth’s familiar, friendly voice is out of place in our house.

“You look great,” Jayne says, appearing behind her. “Don't waste your money.”

Beth pulls open the front door and Martha stirs from the rush of cold air. Jayne waves her hands, trying to get out the door before waking anyone. They're going to pick up Jayne's truck.

“What did your mom say?” Beth asks, sliding into the driver seat and turning the ignition.

“She said it was my choice.” Jayne sighs and thumps her head against the headrest. “Though she made it very clear that we're too young to get married.”

Beth chuckles. “She's right.”

“It's a lot to think about, that's for sure.” Jayne falls silent for a moment and picks at the sleeve of her old sweatshirt. “Do you think it's strange that Jill's been gone for a week and I haven't properly mourned?” She bites her bottom lip. “Or at least I don't think I have. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or how I'm supposed to feel. I hate this.”

Beth takes a hand from the steering wheel and pats Jayne awkwardly on the shoulder while trying to drive. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's fine,” she says, swiping a hand across her cheek. “Life goes on. Isn't that what everyone keeps saying?” Jayne is refusing to cry, she searching her mind for something other than memories of me. Something that won’t hurt as much. “Beth, do you remember Casey?”

“Casey?” The name isn't familiar.

“Um, the gothic kid from the trailer park.”

“Oh, yeah. He's a mortician now. Weirdo.”

Jayne slumps from Beth's biting comment, but realizes that Beth never knew him. “Do you know where he lives?” Excitement burbles under her skin.

“Why would I know where that kid lives?” She turns to look at Jayne and quickly stares at the road again. “Why are you asking me this?”

“He, uh, has one of my school books.” Lie. “He took me home the other day and I left it in his car.”

“Call him,” Beth says, taking a smooth turn onto Wall Avenue, a mile from the divide where Jayne’s truck is.

“I don't have his number.” Jayne sighs and slumps into the seat.

“Don't his parents live next to you?”

Parents,
She thinks.
That’s right, his dad.

“Get it tomorrow when everyone's awake. It's almost one in the morning.” Beth glances at the glowing red numbers from the clock on the dash.

“Will you call his dad?” Jayne pleads.

“Hell, no.” Beth laughs and Jayne's face drops slightly.

“Come on. He'll recognize my number.”

Beth's car climbs up the long hill. Jayne's truck is only a few feet away and Beth scans the area looking for it. “I'm not going to call some guy,” Beth's eyes never leave the road, “and wake him up because you need to get some book from his son who doesn't even live there.”

“Don't tell him that,” Jayne blurts. “I need the book for
his
class in the morning.”

“I thought you didn't have class on Fridays.”

“This is a special project.” Jayne flushes crimson. Beth knows that Jayne doesn't have class on Friday and isn't in any special projects. She's waiting Jayne out to see if she'll spill. “I know his dad's awake; he's a night owl. We can Skype him anytime we need help in class.”

“Then Skype him.” Beth smirks as she pulls up next to Jayne's truck.

Jayne's groan turns into a growl. “I can't ask him for Casey's address. If Johnny found out, he'd flip.”

Beth looks at her swollen eyes and grimaces. She reaches for the phone and pauses. “If I do this, you have to promise that you won't let that bastard hit you again.”

I'm shocked.

Jayne's silent.

“It's not what you think,” Jayne murmurs.

“To hell, it's not. I've been there and it's no way to start a relationship. Especially if you plan on moving in with him,” Beth says as Jayne looks down into her lap, feigning interest in the backs of her hands. “What's his number?”

Jayne pulls out her cell and scrolls through her contacts until she finds his number and recites it.

“What do you want me to ask him?”

“I don't know. Pretend you're Casey's girlfriend and you're looking for his house.”

Loud music blasts through the phone as the call connects and his dad’s giddy voice comes through the line.

“Hello?”

“Hi. I'm l-looking for Casey's house.”

“Pardon?” His voice deepens until he sounds more like a professor than a frat boy.

“I'm trying to find Casey's house, but I lost his address.”

“This is his father.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Beth let's out a heavy breath. “I was supposed to get him a funeral plan. I'm just having such a hard time with this.” She squeaks and bites her bottom lip.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have a pen?”

He gives us the address and hangs up. Jayne stares down at the scrap of paper in her hands, eyes dancing in the moonlight.

“You sure this is only about a book?”

“You're the best,” Jayne replies, avoiding the question.

<><><>

West Haven Drive is in a secluded neighborhood on the outskirts of town, lined with swamps and willows and a freshly painted fence that looks like it's part of a horse corral. Jayne slows and creeps down the road until we come to a looming Victorian – her favorite. Though the house should be well on its way to being demolished from its sheer age alone, it looks new. Casey had taken care with each piece of this house from the newly built porch steps to the fresh, white paint on the trim.

Jayne turns off the truck and settles back into her seat, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The look of contentment on her face makes me crack into a huge grin. She thinks of me.

“Isn't that the perfect tree for a tree house?” she asks, pointing to a large Oak in the front yard. I laugh and squeeze her hand, wishing she could feel it. “And look at the barn in the back.” She crosses her arms over the steering wheel and rests her chin on them. “Did you know Casey was a cowboy? He doesn't dress like one.”

He's not; he just enjoys hard work.

She looks over at me and smiles. For a split second I think she can see me.

This is perfect, Jayne. You belong here.

Her skin crackles with energy and I know it's going to be okay to leave her here. With Casey, inside his fairytale.

Fourteen

6:55a.m.

Johnny waits on the front porch tapping his foot impatiently. He's a ticking time bomb and he's ready to explode. He's five minutes early and Jayne's alarm clock hasn't even gone off yet. Everyone in the house is asleep and no one heard the light raps on the door. When Jayne's phone finally beeps, she rips herself out of bed, forcing her body awake. Her heart slams against her chest as she runs to the door and flings it open.

“I've been standing here for ten minutes.” Johnny brushes past her toward the back of the house. She follows him, but pauses when his face tightens in disapproval. “Didn't you pack anything after I left last night?”

“I didn't have time. Beth picked me up so that we could go get my truck.”

“Beth?” He looks at her like she's lost her mind.

Jayne sighs. “My mother asked her if she could take me to get it since she has all those gas containers at work.”

“Does she have any
boxes
?”

Jayne bites her bottom lip. “I'm not sure.”

“Forget it,” he snaps, charging into her room and pulling random things from her dresser drawers. “Just start grabbing clothes. We'll shove them in the cab of my dad's truck and put the furniture in yours.”

Jayne holds out her arms as Johnny piles on clothes high enough that she can barely see over the mound. He's in a hurry. “I've got to get to work,” he says, ripping clothes out of her closet, “but I told my dad you needed the week off to finish moving.” He glances pointedly at her eyes.

Well isn’t that nice. Did you mention you beat your pregnant girlfriend too?

“Is he okay with everything?” Jayne asks, stumbling around the corner to the hallway. She's going from memory since she can't see.

“Yeah, but he wants you to park your truck in the back so the neighbors can't see it.” Johnny grabs a lamp and jerks the cord out of the wall.

“You're sure this is okay?” Jayne tries to balance the clothes in her arms and reach for door handle at the same time, but the pile threatens to topple at the slightest wiggle. “Can you get that?”

He lets out an irritated breath and slams past her, pushing her into the doorway. She squeaks from the pain and holds in a scream, wincing, as she feels warm, sticky blood soaking into her sweatshirt. My fists shake against my thighs.

After swiping everything from her dresser and closet that she wants, Jayne takes the few things that ever meant anything to her, and looks around the half-empty room, eyeing the rickety bed frame. Martha will come and steal anything Jayne doesn't take, but there isn't much here. She only needs to grab her shoes, but she doesn't want Johnny going through the neatly stacked boxes.

He reaches for one.

“I'll come back and get those,” she says, stopping him.

“So you're taking your clothes and a lamp?”

“Pretty much. And my makeup.” She runs to the bathroom to grab her tote bag, stuffing it full of products on the counter including her toothbrush, a few hairbrushes, and a blow dryer, though she's throwing things into the bag without really paying attention. She's more concerned about her closet.

“Why don't you head to work and I'll take this stuff to your house.” Jayne's trying to get rid of him; I want to see what she's keeping in those boxes. Johnny pushes against her, slamming her into the bathroom wall.

“I left the basement door unlocked for you.” He leans in and kisses her; she turns away.

“Are you mad at me?” he whines.

“No. I haven't brushed my teeth yet.”

“I don't care.” He smashes his lips into her violently.

“I do.” She turns away and sucks in a deep breath.

“Don't be mad. Can't you see how great this is going to be for us?”

Even though she agreed to move in with him, Jayne hadn't thought much about what that meant. She'd been the good, agreeable girlfriend. The kind that wants the father of her child to stick around.

“I want to have you around all the time. I get so jealous.” He pouts his lip.

Without thinking, Jayne's hand flies up to her left eye, her fingers grazing the puffy, sore skin.

“Babe, I'm sorry. That won't happen again.” He loosens his grip and takes a step back, feigning shame, “I just need to be around you all the time. Do you understand how jealous it makes me when other guys look at you?”

She nods, afraid to say the wrong thing. His voice is sticky sweet and laced with venom and she doesn't want to be on the receiving end of the backlash again. She smiles faintly at him.

“Baby,” he coos. Bile rushes to the back of my throat. “I took your virginity and that makes you mine.” He reaches out and cups her breast. Scalding hot rage boils under my skin. If Jayne wasn't so confused about their relationship and wavering between loving him and hating him, I'd find a way to kill him right here. Right now.

The look on her face is a little victory.

Disgusting.

Johnny's eyes flicker black shadows and lock onto hers. “Let's get married.”

She gasps. “I can't get a wedding picture like this.” She turns toward the mirror, inspecting her bruised face and bloodshot eyes. He cradles his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Okay, how about in a few weeks?” he says, grinning at her.

<><><>

Where the wall meets the floor behind her bed, there's a hole in which Jayne has always hidden things. Things that are special to her. Things that hurt her. Things she wanted to look at over and over again. After Johnny leaves, Jayne locates the Payless box containing
her things
and shoves it into the hole, covering it with an old record sleeve from some eighties hair band that wore way too much make up. She had picked it up at a second-hand store just for this very reason. Nobody in our house would touch that thing.

As soon as she slams her bed back into place, covering the record and any trace of the box, Martha yells from the hall, “Jayne. Mom needs coffee.”