Smash Into You

by Shelly Crane

  She shook her head. "No, I'm fine." She started to walk with my hand guiding her swiftly on her back. She stopped and looked back at me. "You're not to blame, you know that right?" She didn't wait for my answer. "Whoever that guy is made the decision to do that and risk others while he searched for you. You can't feel bad that you're just trying to survive." Her eyes took on a faraway look. She said, "You do a lot of things to survive, sometimes things you're not proud of, but when someone's after you, forcing your hand? That is completely not your fault."

  I didn't respond to that. What would be the point? We'd get into a debate about how I'm such a bastard, and how she thinks I'm not, but I know deep, deep in my guts that I am and deserve everything that happens to me because I was born. I burdened my mother and she died trying to save me. Nah...I wasn't about to do that.

  I pushed her to the back door. It dinged at our entrance and I searched around for what we needed. And when I found it, I searched for the clerk. He yelled out, "We're closed! Sorry."

  OK. I was going to have to steal it. "All right. Just using the bathroom."

  He was in the front, stacking boxes of candy, humming as he worked. I took a pack of gauze and stacked it onto my arms, along with antiseptic and some butterfly bandages and tape. I didn't know how bad it was really, but it hurt like a mother.

  I pushed Marley into the smallest bathroom known to man in the back and locked it behind us. She looked around puzzled, but before she could answer, I explained. "Just in case we need something else. Otherwise we'd blow this joint."

  She nodded, moving back to lean against the sink as I started to peel off the shirt, but the pain was quickly chasing my breath through my veins. It was all hitting me as I slowed down. This wasn't some little cut and I was sure I probably did need stitches like Marley had said.

  "Let me do it," she said softly and began to push my ripped shirt from my shoulder. I grimaced and cursed under my breath. "Sorry," she said sincerely.

  "It's fine. Just do it," I said gruffly.

  She pushed it down quickly and all I was left with was my black wife-beater. She looked at the shirt and tossed it into the trash can before coming back, searching the wound with her eyes. I leaned back on the door as she opened the peroxide. She took my arm and leaned me over the sink before pouring the freezing liquid over my skin. I know they say peroxide isn't supposed to sting, but it hurt so badly I hissed through my teeth. Then the bubbles started and it felt like my skin was boiling.

  "Gosh, Jude," she whispered. If I wasn't in so much pain, I would have thought it was adorable. "The more it bubbles, the more germs. I told you that shoe guard is disgusting."

  "I believe you," I spouted. "Just fix it...please."

  "Wow," she remarked and poured another spill of the evil liquid on my shoulder. "A please and everything."

  I didn't say anything, and when she started to dab and clean the wound, I just hung onto the sink and prayed for this to be over soon. She told me to lean back on the counter. She put the butterfly bandages on, and even before she said that I did need stitches and it wasn't going to hold for very long, I already knew it. I shook my head. "It'll have to do for now."

  She wrapped the bandage and tape around my shoulder, securing it all in place, making sure it was tight. She was leaning on me, her hip resting on my thigh as she reached my shoulder and back. I could hear every breath, see every hair delicately out of place that escaped her ponytail, every little freckle on her skin that was right there for my perusal as she worked on me.

  She wasn't beautiful in the super obvious way like the head cheerleader or Miss America. She wasn't fake looking. Her tan was all natural, her hair was blond because God made it that way, and her hips and legs were full and luscious because she ate like a human being and wasn't afraid of meat like some girls I'd known. Then I realized that all of my assumptions could be completely off, but I didn't think so.

  I wanted to find out if I was right or not. As I smelled her right there next to me, I wanted to know if she was a Barbie underneath the girl I saw before me, or if she truly was the real girl I hoped for.

  She leaned back and looked into my eyes, all concerned and genuine. "Is that too tight? Is it OK?"

  I was losing my freaking mind. "It's fine, Marley." A too-long pause. "Thank you."

  She licked her lips. "I just know you're going to be hurting later."

  "Can't worry about that now. Here." I took her sleeve in my fist and ripped it along the seam, and then moved on to the next one.

  "Um…what are you doing?" she asked as she watched me rip the sleeves off her t-shirt.

  "You had blood on your sleeve," I explained and gave her a once over. "There. Now no one will think anything of it."

  She looked at herself in the mirror. "I wouldn't have thought of that. You're pretty crafty." She looked at me in the mirror behind her. "Thanks."

  "Wouldn't want someone to think I beat you or something," I said and gripped her hand, dragging her with me out of the bathroom to the back door of the store. I called out, "Thank you, sir!"

  "Have a good day now!" he called back with a blind wave.

  I saw Marley grab a big bottle of Ibuprofen and a couple other things right before we reached the exit. We hopped in the truck and I locked the doors.

  I drove us out to a diner on the edge of town, parked in the back, and went in to wait out Biloxi. I wanted to see if he'd skip town before I did. I swiped my ball cap from behind the seat and weaved my way to the back booth by the jukebox where we couldn't be seen. I knew I was drawing attention with my arm all bandaged up, but as long as it wasn't the wrong attention, I didn't give two craps.

  She held her hand out and waited. I put mine under hers and four small, brown pills dropped into it. "Take it," she ordered. Again, my insides mushed and churned. Why the hell was it such a turn on to be bossed around by this little girl?

  I popped them back, lifted the glass of water to my lips, and swallowed. I even opened my mouth to show her they were gone like they make you do at hospitals. Or so I figured. I'd never been to one. Only seen it on TV.

  She sat across from me and as I pretended to look at the menu, I watched her. She had just followed me in the diner, shadowing my footsteps and looking defeated. Her lips were moving, like she was biting the inside of her lip nervously. Her eyes stared at the tabletop that didn't match anything else in the place. A decorating job botched all to hell. Her fingers rolled a black pen that was left on the table back and forth. Guilt took my guts and squeezed them.

  I couldn't take her with me. I just couldn't. She'd get killed and I'd have another female death on my conscience. So after a little time had passed, I would take her to her car, against my better judgment. I was picking the lesser of two evils, you could say.

  I leaned down trying to catch her gaze. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

  Her face stayed the same, but her eyes looked up at me. "Still going with that crazy story, huh?"

  "It's the only story I got." I snapped open the menu again and pretended that there wasn't cheese or some other byproduct stuck to the pages. "You want something?"

  She glared at me. "What? Poor little homeless girl can't buy herself a turkey sandwich?"

  "I wanna eat. All I was doing was asking if you did, too. Pay for your own, I don't give a..." I sighed. "Whatever. Just consider it a farewell slash thank you gift and let me buy you dinner."

  She didn't say anything. The waitress came and asked what we wanted to drink and if we were ready. I nodded, not bothering to ask about Marley. "I'll take a sweet tea, the biggest burger you've got, and chili fries. Thanks, darlin'."

  She winked. "And you, honey?" she asked Marley.

  Marley just stared at the table, not even looking at the menu, and said, "A big glass of orange juice, a side of green beans, a side of fruit, and a BLT on wheat, extra tomato and extra bacon, please."

  The waitress just nodded and left. I stared at the girl across from me. What the hell kinda order was that?r />
  "What? Why do you care what I eat?"

  Had I said that out loud? "Uh...just strange is all."

  "I like to balance out my meals."

  We stayed silent until the food came and I watched in stupefied fascination as she picked up her green beans like French fries and ate them with her fingers. Then she did the same with a piece of fruit. Then she did the same to her sandwich, picking the tomato out of the bread and devouring it, licking her fingers.

  I'd never been so turned on by a slice of tomato before. I clenched my teeth and tried to look away, but then she picked up another green bean and nibbled it. Nibbled it! Even I heard my growl as I leaned back in my seat. My shoulder hit the wood behind me. I cringed and gritted my teeth. "There's a fork there," I said.

  "I don't use forks."

  "Got a problem with silver? Are you a child of the moon and I just wasn't aware?"

  She sneered. "Ha. Freaking. Ha. No, I just...nothing."

  "What? You can burden me with your secret. I'm never going to see you again anyway."

  She stared at me. "You're really leaving? Like for good."

  "I'm really leaving. I have to." I took a monster bite of my burger.

  She swallowed and blinked. "You're so nonchalant about it. Like it doesn't even matter."

  "It doesn't. I've done it so many times...I can't even count."

  She nodded, pensive. "I moved a lot, too, but I was never as happy about it as you are."

  "I'm not happy about it. It's just something I've always had to do."

  "All by yourself?" she questioned. She nibbled that green bean...nibbled...

  "Not always." I gave her a look that said everything. "And no, I don't want to talk about it."

  "Hmmm..." she mumbled. "She must have been a great girl."

  I stilled. My eyes found hers. I knew she was probing and I should tell her to screw off, but...I wanted to tell her. I spoke softly, hoping the bitterness in me wasn't going to scare her. "My mom did everything to keep me safe from them...even gave her life."

  She stopped nibbling and stared. Her eyes began to fill just a little. Just enough to make me see that it was absolutely genuine and she was heartbroken for me.

  "I'm...so sorry." She shook her head and looked at the table, running her finger over a name carved into the wood. "I know that's lame when people say that, but I don't know what else to say." I started to speak, but she glanced up and my pulse banged in my ears at the look she was giving me. "I get it now. I get why you're so jaded and just push people, you don't let anyone in because you're afraid that by getting attached to you, they'll be dragged down with you."

  Daggum perceptive girl... "So you believe me now, about being on the run?"

  "It doesn't really matter, Jude. You're on the run in your heart and nothing I say or do can change that."

  I almost scoffed. Almost.

  "Eat your beans, Marley." I smiled slowly and shook my head. "We need to get going."

  She smiled, too. A little shy smile that said she didn't know why I was smiling, but she just couldn't help but answer it. She ate her entire plate, every bit, and never touched her fork. Those green beans were my nemesis and as I watched her, and yes, I watched, she was completely oblivious.

  When we were done, I paid and Marley didn't put up a fight like I thought she would. I wondered how much after tuition would she even have left over. I couldn't imagine it would be much. The one class I took cost a small fortune on its own.

  I checked around and then towed her to the truck swiftly. I hoisted her inside and ran to my side. My arm was throbbing, even after taking the pills. I was trying to hide it because if I told her how much it hurt, she wouldn't leave and I was unable to make her.

  I drove carefully, my hat pulled low over my forehead. The key wasn't to keep turning your head in looking, that was suspicious, it was to face forward and let your eyes wander. When we made it back to the bar, I was a little worried. My white knuckles ached from their steering wheel grip as we passed the tree line and saw the demolished bar. Marley gasped and glued herself to her window to get the best look. I shook my head. Biloxi cared for no one or nothing. I was going to find out one day what he wanted from me. What was so daggum important that he'd risk killing people for it? For me?

  And then I saw him. The cops and fireman walked around under the whirring lights of all colors, but it was the man digging through Marley's car that had my attention.

  Biloxi.

  "Hell," I spouted in an angry whisper.

  "What? Wha-" She saw him and stopped. "Why are they looking through my car?" She looked at me and she believed now. "Is that the guy?"

  "Yes."

  "But why..."

  "Because I took you with me?" I wondered aloud. "God, Marley..." What had I done? It was too late to save her. "I'm so sorry. I thought I was keeping you safe by taking you with me, but I was wrong. Now he thinks he can get to me through you. He knows who you are now."

  "It's not like I have an address he can find me at, Jude."

  "What address did you give the bar when you applied?"

  She looked sheepish and tucked her hair behind her ear. "This little abandoned house on Oxford. But it's all locked up. I've never slept there or anything."

  Biloxi slammed the door to her car in anger and then jumped in the front. In no time, he had it hotwired, unbeknownst to the cops who were preoccupied, and was spinning in the gravel heading out the back entrance.

  It clicked. I had an idea where the bastard was going and so, I followed him slowly. When we came to Oxford Street, I slowed even more. Biloxi was there, out of the car already, and I waited for him to go knock and interrogate Marley, because he figured either she was there or we were hiding there.

  Instead, he pulled his gun that I knew all too well from inside his jacket, the silencer on the end making it protrude, and opened fire on Marley's supposed house.

  I stared in shock. He wasn't even going to interrogate her to find me? He was just going to kill her? But...why wouldn't he try to lure me back with her, or hold her hostage to make me come back? My truck wasn't there...he knew I wasn't there with her... He knew that we left together...

  Something wasn't adding up. What the hell did he want with Marley?

  The trembling on my side registered too late. I looked over at her. She was pressed to my side, her eyes wide as she watched this man demolish her supposed home. It wasn't the home that was upsetting, it was the fact that he obviously thought she was inside it.

  The sob seemed to be stuck in her throat and her breaths were ragged. Her fingers were wrapped in my shirt and she was hanging on for life.

  See, this was what I was talking about. I didn't know how to take care of somebody. I wasn't capable of doing and being all the things a girl like her needed me to. But I pulled my arm around her, ignoring the sting and ache from moving the wound. She melted into my side and got as close as she could get, but she couldn't look away. I pulled her face over with my other hand, keeping my arm firmly around her. She looked wild and unhinged.

  "Hide right here," I told her gently and pulled her face to my neck. "You don't need to see that."

  With her face pressed into my skin, I slowly edged us down the street, Biloxi none the wiser.

  Damn, damn, damn.

  I didn't even know what to say. I was so angry at her right then for all of a sudden becoming my problem.

  But she was so vulnerable and open and alone and raw. It didn't feel right to be the guy I always was with her. But I had to be, for her sake. So, fine. We'd skip town and then I'd find her somewhere to go and... We'd cross that bridge when we came to it. For now, I just drove and tried to remember that the girl in the seat was not my girl and though she wanted my comfort, the line was drawn right there.

  And I refused to cross it.

  Five

  Dawn broke over the road as we trudged down the highway into the next town. She was asleep in the seat, laid down like a child in the fetal position. I tried to
toe the line between speeding and following the law because I knew we needed to get the heck out of dodge, but we also needed to not get pulled over. I imagined Biloxi was behind me somewhere, catching up and right there behind me like he always was. There were four main roads out of that town, and I hope he picked the wrong one and was a hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction.

  But since when was luck on my side?

  I looked down at Marley and got angry all over again. Now I had this girl to look after. It was always me after my mom died. I never even had an inkling to add someone to the mix. Now when Marley got hurt or killed because of this, I'd have another death on my conscience.

  What a friggin' tragedy I'd fallen into. Boy meets girl, girl makes boy question everything for a split second, boy gets girl killed. I didn't like the sound of that. So, though I knew I was being cliché and would ultimately hurt her, I knew what I had to do. I just had to make her see that it was a good idea to get away from me. I could help her get set up somewhere else and then skip town as quickly as I'd come.

  Being hated wasn't the hard part. It was living with myself when it was too late.

  x

  "One room, please," I spouted. I didn't dare look around the place because I knew the film of gunk and stench would just make me regret stopping. But at $39.99 a night, you couldn't really be picky. We both needed to sleep and get a shower before we started on the road again. I was sure we'd have to start roughing it at some point, but hopefully, she would be gone by then.

  "Cash only," the man replied dully and looked at my neck, not my face. "We have too many issues with stolen cards and bank fees."

  "That's all I got so that's just perfect, now ain't it?" I handed it to him and wanted to shake my head. It was no secret that these pay-by-the-hour dives were shady and yet they still wanted to keep up the pretense of civility and propriety.