Jayne Doe (10 page)

“Honey, if I can give you any advice, work it out. That baby is going to need its daddy.” Beth pulls out a pen and starts marking up a list in front of her I hadn't noticed.

Are you kidding me? Jayne needs to go to college and be somebody. She's not you. She isn't the trailer park or this damn town.
My hands move through my hair becoming frantic. I tug on the strands in frustration. They're having a conversation like they're a couple of idiot knocked-up teenagers on television.

“I just feel like I've been run over by a Mac truck,” Jayne says, her voice becoming gravelly. “I really miss Jill and it's finally sinking in. She's not coming back.”

“I know.” Beth pauses her scribbling. “I think it's hit all of us.” A memory of me in a dirty tee-shirt and an armful of junk food pops into her head and Beth smiles despite the gravity of the situation. “She always made me laugh. I don't think she ever cared what people thought.”

“She was so stubborn,” Jayne agrees, sniffling loudly. “I need that kind of strength.”

“Don't we all.

A quick movement in my periphery catches my attention and I stare out of the front window of Sinclair straight at Jillian. She's standing outside in the cold, though it doesn't seem to bother her. Her baby-blue eyes stare into my soul, searching for something.

I move away from the table and cross the store before slipping through the glass and grabbing Jillian's shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” I'm shocked that she's here, but more shocked that she wants to talk.

“My daddy is going to do a bad thing.”

“You've told me this.” My frustration seeps out from between my teeth. “What did he do?”

“It hasn't happened yet.” Her eyes open wide and I could stare into the depths forever. She whispers, “there's a gun.”

I freeze, afraid to move or make a sound, afraid that she'll clam up again and I'll be forced to play the
What If
game alone. “How do you know?”

“Stephen told me.” She stretches up to her tiptoes and grabs my face, pulling me closer to her. She speaks so softly I can barely hear her even though I'm mere inches away. “He told me that I was supposed to find you.”

“Where is he?”

“I don't know, but you have to go home right now.”

“I won't leave you.”

“Go home.” She takes a few steps back, her eyes glassing over.

I can't leave her here in front of Sinclair. I grab her hand. “I can't leave you here,” I say, pulling on her hand. She won't look at me, but her mouth is repeating the words 'go home' over and over in silence. The buzzing is starting again and I clap my hands over my ears, pushing away the deafening roar.

My house is less than a block away. I don't want to leave her but I have to get out of here. I feel a tugging, like a string tied to my spine. I have to get home. Something is happening at the house. I drop her hand and run.

Twelve

The glowing ends of half-burnt cigarettes light up the darkness of the cold night as I round the corner of the driveway and approach the porch. I can barely see, but I can smell them.

Alcohol and pot.

Johnny stands on the porch talking to Mom who's half in the bag and slurring so badly I can barely make out what she's saying. But he's chuckling along with her. The tugging in my spine stops, but I can't figure out why I'm here. There's not a gun in sight. Johnny isn't upset. He's quite proud of what he's done tonight and he's still high enough that he doesn't care where Jayne is.

Mom slides down to the porch steps. Her tiny body is swathed in several pairs of sweats, breathing in Johnny's cigarette smoke. As soon as he extinguishes one, he pulls out another. Mom's quiet, listening intently to him and swaying gently back and forth. He wants something from her. I close my eyes and focus.

“I just think it would be a good idea. At least for a little while,” Johnny says, taking another long drag of his cigarette and letting out a cloudy breath. His mind is a jumbled mess of random thoughts and broken phrases, images that don't make sense. He's blurry from the drugs. “My parents have a huge, empty basement, like a mother-in-law apartment.”

I step back and scrunch my face.

He wants my mother to move out?

Something inside of me says this is wrong.
No, it's something else.

“Well, it's really what Jayne wants.” Mom takes a drag of her own cigarette and holds it close to her chest. “I don't think you need to get married. You're both too young.”

“My parents are old fashioned,” Johnny says as he searches for the right words. I can't make sense of what he's saying. “I just think she should move closer to campus with that gas guzzler. I don't want her to run out of gas again. She could get hurt.”

Blackness envelopes him. He doesn't mean a word he's saying. He doesn't care about Jayne; he just wants her close to him. So he can watch her.

“I told her not to buy that piece of shit,” Mom says, flicking ash from the end of the burning cigarette in her hand.

Tires crunch on gravel behind me as Billy pulls up in the Grand Prix. When he gets out of the car, his eyes are blood shot, pupils dilated. He's stoned again. He shoots Johnny a greasy smile.

“You're a happy boy, I take it.” The suggestion in Billy’s voice makes me want to puke. I swallow violently, keeping it all down.

“I'm good,” Johnny says, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. He leans closer to Billy and I take a few steps toward them so that I can hear. “I'm going to need another favor though. This ain't like the other one. I've got to keep this really quiet.”

“You got it, man,” Billy answers, slamming the car door. Mom jumps at the sound. “I couldn't find Martha, Mom. I think she went to one of her friends.”

“She's in the house with Bryan,” Mom deadpans, shaking her head, though she really doesn't care that my sister's in the back bedroom with a boy. “Why don't you two go kick his ass. I'm too young to be a grandma.” She stubs out her cigarette in a half-full ashtray beside her.

I suck in a breath and watch for Johnny's reaction. He doesn't even flinch.

He doesn't know.
Jayne hasn't told anyone but Beth.

Billy flings open the front door and yells, “Get your skank ass out here, Martha. I don't want to have to come and get you.” His voice is serious, but his eyes are laughing. Quieting down, he turns to Mom. “We got any food in the fridge?”

“Chips in the cupboard, I think.” She’s talking about the Cheetos I left in there. They’re probably stale by now.

Two sets of feet shuffle down the hallway. The guy I saw Martha with in the woods is tugging at his jeans, trying to get them to relax on his hips. Martha's right behind him, straightening her shirt and fixing her bra straps.

“You're such a dumbass, Billy,” she says, flicking the back of his head as she walks by. “Mom, tell Billy to knock it off.”

“Will you two stop?” Mom plops down on the couch and picks up the warm bottle of Bud she left sitting on the end table. “I can't wait until you
all
move out.”

Martha looks up, excited. “Wait, who's moving out?”

“I want Jayne to move in with me.” Johnny speaks from the doorway.

“Right on.” Martha screeches. “I get her room.”

I lean away from them.
How can they all be so blind?

Billy grabs a can of spray cheese from the fridge and sprays it on Martha's shirt and in her hair. She pulls back her arms and slaps him across the face. He laughs like it doesn't hurt because Johnny is here.

“Where
is
Jayne?” Johnny asks, taking a small step toward the kitchen. He's starting to sober up.

“Ran to the store.” Mom tips the beer bottle to her lips, but comes up dry. “Billy, get me another beer.”

He squirts cheese into his mouth with one hand and pulls open the fridge with the other. “We're out.”

“Who the hell drank all my beer?” Mom looks up from the television, her eyes wild. Martha scoots toward the bathroom and motions to Bryan to follow her. “Damn it.” Mom screams, throwing her empty bottle in the kitchen. “I can't wait until you all get jobs and get out of my house.”

Johnny turns toward the door. He's had about as much of this as he can take. “I'll run to the store and get you some. Which store did you say Jayne was at?”

“Sinclair.” Mom barely looks at him.

Johnny’s color fades and he wonders if Jayne saw him with the girl in his truck. He grits his teeth. “I'll be right back.”

As he reaches for the handle, the front door flings open. Jayne’s in her big sunglasses. I can hear her heart beat from where I'm standing. It's blasting like a canon.

“Baby, where have you been?” Johnny's voice is sugary sweet and insincere. He pulls her into his chest and inhales the scent of her hair. “I've been missing you.” He nuzzles her neck and kisses her cheek.

Why can’t you shoot
yourself?

I think of Jillian.

Sinclair.

Is she okay?

“I promised your mom I'd make a beer run,” he tells Jayne, lacing his fingers through hers and gently squeezing. “Come with me.” The words are commanding. Jayne nods and follows him out the door. I slip through the wood-fibers and follow them out.

“How was your night?” Jayne asks, but her voice is cold. She's hurt. He doesn't answer her question so she asks another. “Where have you been?”

“I've been here with your family.” The lie slithers out of his mouth.

“What about the girl you were with?” she asks. I'm amazed.

“What girl?” His brain starts formulating another lie.

Jayne isn't going to back down. “The girl at Sinclair.”

“How do you know about that?” He's pissed that she saw him and had the audacity to question him.

“I was–” She pauses. “I was in the bathroom and when I came out, I saw you leave with her.”

His palms begin to sweat. “Are you accusing me of something?” He lifts one hand from the steering wheel. Jayne rips down the glasses and displays her purpled face. In the dim light of the street lamps, he sees what he's done. “I'm sorry, babe.”

“Who was that girl?”

He strokes her cheek with the back of his hand. “She's one of Billy's friends. I ran her to the station to buy her a lighter because Billy was being a dumbass and dropped her off in the cold. Everybody was partying down in the woods. I was just trying to help.”

I scoot closer to Jayne and place my hands over hers even though she can't feel them. She doesn't buy his story, but she wants to believe it. She's afraid of the truth. I can see the fear leaking out of her. I think of Casey, how he would understand if she told him the truth.

She scrunches her face. “How are you going to buy beer?”

“My fake ID.”

“Beth won't fall for that.”

“Do you realize how trashy it is to know her name?”

“I just don't think we should go to Sinclair. Go to Wal-Mart.”

He agrees. Even Johnny knows that it's too risky to try a fake ID on someone who knows Jayne. All he wants is the thrill of testing it out.

When he pulls into Wal-Mart, Johnny hops out of the truck, but leaves it running. “You stay here and I'll be right back.” He doesn't want anyone to see Jayne's face.

When he leaves, Jayne pulls down the visor and opens the mirror. The pair of glowing lights overhead illuminate her face and spread wretched shadows across her already darkened face. Her eyes are black and blue already. She pokes at the puffy skin. I run my fingers over her cheekbones, feeling the swollen skin, thankful that Jayne can't feel my fingers. I don't want to hurt her more.

She reaches down and folds her arms over her stomach. I turn and stare at the automatic sliding doors, waiting for Johnny. He's flirting with the cashier; I'm not surprised. I glance back at Jayne. She strokes a finger against her tight sweater and thinks of blues and yellows. Then pink. She's going to paint my room pink. I smile at her and then look toward the doors again.

My heart drops at the sight of Jillian.

As soon as I have the feeling, I'm standing next to her under the EXIT sign. “Why are you here?” I gasp.

“I have to show you something.”

Thirteen

The second Jillian grabs my hand, we start spinning. Twisting. Turning. Like a merry-go-round. She giggles and images of Hello kitty, Barbie, and Minnie Mouse pop in and out of my vision. “Come with me.” Her voice is small, but determined. She pulls me beside her and we hover over the icy river next to my house. I reel back, trying to jump ashore, but she holds my hand firmly in hers. I'm not sure how we're doing this. It doesn't make sense. But nothing has made sense for a while.

As we slow to a standstill, I drag my fingers through the crusted snow, carving pictures of baby bunnies. Jillian laughs a tinkling laugh and claps her hands. “I can color,” she says proudly, imagining a box of crayons. I cringe, but she isn't deterred.

Folding open the top, she pulls out a light pink crayon and hands it to me. “Color his nose.”

I reach out with tentative hands and take the crayon from her before scribbling on the frozen river.

“Pretty.” She claps again. I take the box from her and begin drawing a big farm with lots of animals.

“Home.”

I scrunch my face in confusion, but keep coloring. Brown is too light for the pony, so I shade it with black. She reaches down to pet it. I color fruit next, taking an orange crayon and creating the peel of an orange, perfectly textured from the crusty snow. Then I draw her a bright red apple. When I'm done with that, I want to draw her grapes, my favorite. I reach down into the box for the purple crayon but it's missing.

“Where's the purple?”

Jillian's happiness fades into a dead stare. “No purple.”

“What?”

“No purple, no purple, no purple.” She drops to the ground and curls herself into a tiny ball.

“Jillian.” I reach out for her. “What's wrong?”

She doesn't speak, choosing instead to show me. We’re in a hotel room—I think. The green tapestries are drawn. It’s beautiful.
What is this place?