Breene, K F - Jessica Brodie Diaries 01 (13 page)

“Well,” I continued, flustered, “he
touched my panties.” William flinched, but didn’t look away. “I mean, he
tried... well, he didn’t get them off or anything, but he touched them.” I
shuddered a little. “Could I...” I sighed. I might just get out with it. “Could
I have some of your undies so I can throw mine away?”

He tilted his head with a lopsided
grin. “That’s a first,” he said as he went to a clothes drawer. He brought back
a pair of boxer briefs. “A woman generally wants to give me her undies, not
take mine.”

It was my turn to c**k my head.
“Really?” I asked jokingly, “you wear women’s underwear?”

His smile lit up his face. “Well,
only sometimes. Some feel good on my Pagonis, but most of them chafe!”

We both started laughing; trying to
laugh away the drama we were both faced with. Seriousness rushed back in with
the stern knock on the trailer door. William looked at me in trepidation before
getting up to answer it.

A portly man with graying hair and
large sideburns sat down on a couch three feet from the bed. His hard eyes
assessed my appearance as he brought out a notepad and pen.

“Hello Jessica. I am Sgt. Jacobson.
I need to ask you a few questions.”

Did all interrogations start like
that?

Suddenly my body was shaking. A few
more tears leaked out of my eyes. William, ever my protector, hugged me
tighter.

Then the horrible questions
started. “Why did you go outside?”

“I was hot. I tried to get my
friends to go with me, but they didn’t want to. The ones that were there,
anyway. I didn’t know where most of the boys were.”

“Why did you wander so far from the
door?” the Sergeant asked.

“I didn’t. I was in sight of the
door. It couldn’t have been more than ten feet. Just far enough to escape the
heat coming out of the hall. I was still in the light. Dusty dragged me away. By
my hair.”

“Were there any people outside or
passing?”

“None.”

“And then what happened?”

Images and pain flashed through my
mind. My head bowed, my body heaved with sobs. From that position, I recounted
what happened next, in detail. I could tell neither of the men really wanted to
know, but had to.

When I was through, the Sergeant
nodded. “How did you know how to defend yourself? Why did you do to him...what
you did?”

I took a deep breath. “I had a
friend that did—has done martial arts since she was little. She often talked
about what to do when a man, or woman, was confronting me. She went through
some basics with us girls. Normally when I panic I forget everything. But
when...” I gulped and almost gagged. “And earlier in the night when he was in
the chair next to me, digging his hand into my shoulder, I did panic. I
couldn’t react to save my life. But when...”

I paused and took a deep breath. I
hated thinking about it. I hated that it almost happened to me. I hated that
others weren’t as lucky as I to escape. William rubbed my thigh.

“...when he...tried to...suddenly
the need to survive was stronger than anything. Everything Lump ever told me
came to the forefront of my head. I had never done any of the moves
before—except to practice on her--but I didn’t have any other choice...”

The Sergeant nodded again and stood
up. With slow movements he took a couple steps and lay his hand on my shoulder.
“I have taken a lot of statements about this sort of thing, more than I care to
admit. Not many women were able to defend themselves like you did. You did
yourself proud.” He looked at William. “I got all I need. Dusty will be locked
up for a long time with the amount of charges he has against him. In addition
to this, he hit a cop when we tried to take him in. Had drugs on his person. We
got 'em.”

William nodded and thanked the
Sergeant. The two men walked to the door, exchanged a few more words I didn’t
catch, and the door closed.

Without thinking I curled up on the
bed in the fetal position.

“William?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“Do you mind if I just sleep for a
couple minutes?”

“Of course not. Here...”

I heard him rustling around, and
then felt a blanket fall over me. I thanked him gratefully and fell asleep.

I awoke slowly with light on my
face and the smell of bacon in the air. My stomach rumbled as a smile came to
my lips. Then I flinched. My face hurt.

That opened the door to memories.
The horror of what happened last night. How close I had come.

And then another thought hit me. I
did not know this room! Where the hell was I?

I turned a little, looking behind
me. Just to make sure. Half hoping.

No one. It was just me in this
giant bed. It was relief, but I wouldn’t have been sad if William had taken me
home.

Wait.

My eyes took in the room. It was
stately with expensive looking furniture. Also uncommonly spacious. There was
money in this room. Was it William’s?

I got out of bed, slowly, sore
throughout my body. I was dressed in a silky, though large, nightgown.
Butterflies filled my belly. Did he dress me? Did he take care of me?

I thought back to the night before.

I remembered falling asleep in the
trailer. That was the last clear thought I had. From there everything was
filtered through a strange haze. Cars starting, shaking, rattling. I vaguely
remembered a nightmare. Dusty was in it, but details were elusive. Did I ask
for William, or were those all dreams?

I did have dreams of him, though.
Many. His arms around me in a field of wild daisies. Us on a winged horse, him
sitting behind me, holding me tight. The two of us dancing slowly, no one else
in the room. In every dream there was William and his pain staking beauty
pressed against me in some way.

Usually each dream sequence ended
in us kissing, or getting further, or going for home base. I smiled just
thinking about a couple of the last dreams.

Could this be his room?

I surveyed the art. Then the clear
dresser tops. The lack of personal items. No, it was a guest room. But in his
house?

At the mirror I had a quick look,
then stopped dead. I couldn’t process the image that looked back. Her face was
heavily bruised along the left side. Her left eye was bloodshot and
half-closed. Her throat had hand and finger marks etched into her skin. Her
shoulder, the skin peeking out of the nighty on her chest…

My heart sank. I shook my head,
tears rushing to my eyes. Deflated, I reached for the terry cloth robe that was
laid out at the edge of the bed.

Three steps outside the door had my
mood seeped further into the ground. I was in what Gladis's house. Not with
William.

It was just as well in the state I
was in.

In the parlor I found Gladis. Her
face lit up when she saw me. "Hi dear!" She didn’t look twice at my
bruised face or neck. “Breakfast is cooking and OJ is fresh squeezed. Do you
want a mimosa?”

I smiled. It hurt. “No thank you.”
My voice came out in a hoarse croak. I glanced my hand over my neck. “Orange
juice straight up will be fine for me.”

She nodded without noticing and led
the way to the main living room. Once there I plopped down in one of the
overstuffed chairs and received a glass of OJ from Lady, who never seemed to be
off duty. I then noticed an older man seated across the room. He was drinking a
mimosa and lounging.

Seeing me notice the stranger,
Gladis said, “Jessica, I would like you to meet my old friend George Herbert.
Or should I say, my young friend of long-time acquaintance?” George and Gladis
both shared a laugh. Old person joke.

“Hello, Jessica,” he said in a rich
but scratchy voice.

“Hi George.” I carefully sipped my
orange juice, wincing as the acid needled my cut lip.

Gladis started talking again.
“George, here, is a doctor. I knew him before he got his degree. Well,
degreezz, plural. He has quite a few. Spent too much time in school for my
taste.”

“That’s why you got away!” he said
humorously.

Their eyes twinkled as they looked
at one another. I looked away awkwardly.

“Well, ladies,” George boomed. “I
have to use the little boy’s room. If you’ll excuse me?”

His air current brought the smell
of bacon wafting closer. My stomach rumbled.

“Jessica...” Gladis’s eyes were
intent. “Tom Davies explained what happened last night.”

I figured this talk was coming.
Best to just get it over with.

I gave her a
“go-ahead-though-I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it” kind of nod.

“I must admit that I’ve never had
anything like that happen to me. I’ve been roughed up a time or two, o’ course,
but that’s a different kind of hurt--one that was more accepted in my time,
unfortunately.” She swatted the memory away. “As I was saying, I have not been
in your shoes. I have, however, been there for a friend that was in a worse
situation. Much worse if I may be so blunt. So I do feel like I have some idea
of the feelings and circumstances that this type of...trauma inspires.”

She paused, still looking at me
intently. I analyzed my glass.

“You seem like a strong girl,” she
went on. “but even a strong girl can get weighed down by dark feelings and
black memories. I don’t want that for you so young in life.”

I sighed, my patience exhausted.
“Gladis, I am not sure what Tom told you, but nothing actually happened. It
might have, but didn’t.”

Her smile was understanding. “I
know, dear. I know that. I had Dr. Collins come in last night to look over you.
No physical, permanent damage. You did what many women could not—you fought
back the demons and granted your own salvation. Now, I know you aren’t a
religious girl, but I would call that opening up and letting God direct your
hand. Whatever you call it, you fought back...and won!”

Oh good, an eighty-year-old
cheerleader.

“I can see you are the type to hold
it all in," Gladis relentlessly continued, "but trust me, it will
fester. It will live in your soul and fester. I saw it happen. So...I took the
liberty of asking a trusted friend to be your guidance.”

“Gladis, you’re talking in
riddles.” I shook my head. Time to go home. Bacon wasn’t worth this torture.

“I am trying to get this out
without losing your trust or friendship.” Her voice took on a gentle quality.
“I had a daughter—I know to tread lightly in these matters.”

My brain stuttered on the word had.
She continued talking before I could properly digest.

”I asked Dr. George to be your
shoulder. He is a psychiatrist.” The last sentence came out in a rush, which
was rare for her slow drawl. She sunk back, apprehensive. She was waiting for
my tantrum.

I just sighed. I had never been to
a shrink, but many of my friends had, and they swore those doctors were
essential.
L.A.
lifestyle and all
that. I would have tried one but they were expensive and I didn’t have medical
or money. Or much to talk about.

“That’s fine, Gladis. I know you’re
trying to help. If you think it best I’ll talk to him. But not today. Today I
want to eat food and veg out and watch T.V. Or read. Or daydream, maybe.”

Gladis smiled big and leaned toward
me. “Good girl! C’mon, let’s go eat before Dr. George eats it all. One day I’ll
tell you all about the story of George and I!”

Ew.

Later that day I was sitting in the
Rec. Room, as Gladis called it, watching Gladiator on the giant TV with
surround sound. Well, I was actually just watching Russell Crowe—same
difference.

My mind kept slipping to my dreams
of William. As my groin started to tingle, my memories would slip sideways to
the real William. Apollo. Times like when we were by the trailer and his eyes
reached into my soul and clutched my heart. Or the thrill that went through me
when I saw him for the first time by the bull pen. Or the soft baritone of his
voice when he was holding me after the Dusty fiasco.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

What the…!

“Gladis! You scared the shit out of
me!”

She laughed. “Sorry, honey. I
wasn’t quiet coming in. You were so lost in thought, with such a sublime
expression on your face, that I thought I would give you a moment before I
ruined it. Who is he?”

I played dumb. “Who is who?”

She smiled with the familiar twinkle
in her eyes. “You know who.”

I sighed and repositioned on the
couch. “William Davies.”

Her expression suddenly faltered
and her twinkle dulled. My heart sank.

“Ah,” was all she said before she
positioned a little more deeply into the couch cushions.

“Bad choice?”

“Well... bad choice in terms of
availability. Great choice in terms of a good looking, well-groomed, great
character and a good-hearted young man. He is a catch, girlie. A great catch,
most would say. Which is why the availability takes a fall. Every single girl
that has heard of him, and some that aren’t single, are vying for his
attention.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I know. I was
told not to bother. And I haven’t really. I‘ve just played the damsel in
distress, mostly. Not by choice! Just sort of happened. And he was always there
to just...I don’t know, try to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.”

“Yes. He would do that. He really
is a fine-standing young man. His parents did him good. Just be careful of your
heart, dearie.” She smiled kindly and reached to pat me on the knee.

I knew that pat. That “it sucks,
but you have to move on” pat. I knew all this. Someone that gorgeous, that on
top of his game, that...perfect, would be unreachable. Probably even for
beautiful Lump, or witty Flem. One always had memories, though. And dreams.

Gladis was looking at me like she
kicked a puppy. I shrugged and smirked. In a Southern accent I said, “He don’t
know what he’s missin’ now do he?”