My Favorite Distraction (Distraction #1)

by Stephanie Jean

  I pressed play on the message and her voice began to play in my ear. “Hey, my horse is in labor and the vet, your dad—giggle—says it will be anytime now and I knew you wouldn’t want to miss it. Come over right away.” The next message was similar, but more frantic: “I need you here; where are you?” By the third message, she was a mess. “I have called your house and your sisters. I am starting to worry; you didn’t tell me you were going anywhere today.” Her voice was all squeaky and whiny. I put the phone away.

  “She’s found out you have been sneaking behind her back and seeing me.” Dave laughed, thinking he was funny, but I just wanted to punch his face in. Aggressive I know, but being an eighteen-year-old filled with testosterone, and other than hours of basketball, I had no other form of release. Jacy, my wonderful girlfriend, didn’t believe in any form of sex before marriage. So other than kissing and light make-out sessions, she didn’t help with the buildup of male hormones racing through my blood. So, right now, pounding my best friend's face in for laughing at me sounded great.

  “No, she doesn’t know. Besides, she’ll have me for the rest of my life and you can have a few hours before you abandon me for four years.” I pushed him and he lost his step as I laughed. He gathered himself, gave me a sideways glance, and rolled his eyes.

  “Sure, man. Once she has her hooks in you, you will never see daylight. You will be like a walking Ken doll, doing what she wants, and acting like you are merely an extension of her. She will wear your balls as a necklace. Dude, the girl has control issues and you can’t even tell her we play basketball. She thinks I am competition for her; that’s a little messed up.” Dave thought he was relationship savvy, but I knew what he was spilling was complete bullshit. He didn’t have what I had with Jacy; we were soul mates. She was the best thing to ever happen to me. I grinned at the thought and waved casually at a familiar face in the parking lot. It was William, Jacy’s older brother. She would know by now what I had been up to; William had loose lips. He was the definition of man drama. I was sure he reported back to Jacy every time he saw me at school. Jacy went to a private all-girl high school, but I knew she kept tabs on me.

  As we made our way to Dave’s Camaro, he continued to talk about what relationships were supposed to be like. I chuckled at the irony as he spoke. Dave wasn’t known for hanging on to a girl for very long. We drove together because we lived close enough and today was his day to drive. I played with the stereo, turning it up as we rolled down the windows and pulled out of the high school parking lot. We were singing loudly to Tesla’s “The Way It Is” on the radio. A fire truck passed us, followed by an ambulance, and I saw more flashing lights ahead. Dave slowed as we got closer and pulled over. I got out right away and ran up to the site of the accident. It was a country town with one lane in and out of school and there was one stoplight at the beginning of the small town. With all of the emergency vehicles around, you couldn’t see the town. I quickly jogged through all the traffic. Dave was beside me and I think he saw it before I did. It was her car. It was Jacy’s, except the side of it was completely crunched in. I took off in a run as Dave tried to hold me back. I saw blood everywhere — all over the concrete next to her red Honda Civic. Firemen were moving the BMW that was smashed against it, just enough to retrieve Jacy, who was still in the car. There was blood on the concrete right next to her car, pools of it, but it was far enough away I knew it wasn’t hers. My eyes blinked in the sight; it was too much to handle and the blinking allowed small visions instead of one blurry one. I spotted an old man on a stretcher covered in blood. Dave started talking and for some reason, in this slow motion, very loud moment, he was all I heard.

  “Jason, it looks like her car lost control and skidded into his. I bet she hit that pothole.” He pointed out at the skid marks around a small hole in the asphalt. “Dude, I think I see her phone in the center of the intersection.” I slowly trudged over to where he was pointing and picked up her phone. It was smashed. I dragged my feet back over to her car. This was my worst nightmare. Jacy’s body was lifeless as they pulled it from the car and placed her on the stretcher. They treated her like a fragile doll. I tried to move in close. I wanted to hold her hand, but they pushed me away. There was so much blood. I fell to my knees and grabbed my face in my hands. They shoved her into the ambulance, and after that, I looked around and my eyes met his, the old man. I walked up to him, anger filling me to my core. I closed my eyes because all I saw was red, red blood, a red smashed car, and red seeping down like rain clouding my entire vision. My eyes popped open and I felt a rush of adrenaline potent enough to kill someone.

  “This is your fault. You killed her. She was going to be mine and you killed her.” My teeth clenched so hard pain radiated around my jaw. I stalked toward him, and when there were only inches between us, I took a swing. My fist was itching to hit something; two large men moved in front of him and took the punches I delivered. They stepped back at the old man’s command and he spoke directly to me.

  “I…I,” He swallowed and closed his eyes before he continued, “am sorry, son.” His eyes empty resembling stunned disbelief, his face blood red. “I tried to stop the bleeding.” My anger boiled again at the reminder that I lost her. This man would pay. I would make sure for Jacy’s sake he would pay.

  I felt a hand on my arm as I stared at this man. It was a stare down and I couldn’t break my eye contact with him. William, Jacy’s older brother, stood next to me. He must have approached the scene like I did. I should have comforted him for the loss of his sister, but I was fuming and compassion was not my strong suit.

  Through gritted teeth, I said as I pointed, “That’s the man who killed your sister.” The two tall men appeared in front of me again and William tugged my arm and led me to his car. He opened the car door and before I got in, I leaned over and threw up. The vomit kept coming. I waited a second, got in the passenger’s side of his Mustang, and rolled down the window. It was silent between us both and our eyes were set on the old man. He pushed off the stretcher and removed his bloodied shirt yelling at the people attempting to help him and then his body guards moved in quickly and loaded him into a black sedan. William followed in his Mustang.

  The sedan pulled in front of the state college’s theater. We parked the car and watched the old man get out with a clean shirt and crisp new pants on. His hair was perfect and he looked immaculate. Life is a crazy ride. One minute, it’s a beautiful sunny day and I am hanging with my best friend; the next second, it’s dark and gray outside. I watched the old man exit the vehicle and I felt the gray growing inside me; he was going to pretend that he didn’t just kill my girl. He was acting like he did it every day. Well, he had another thing coming because revenge was going to be an ugly bitch.

  He walked in with one of the large men and the sedan drove away. I got out. My vision was tunneled. All I saw was the door he’d just entered through. Dave grabbed my arm attempting to slow my movements. Where the fuck did he come from? I turned to face both him and William. Dave was talking but I couldn’t hear anything, only the blood rushing in between my ears. Rage was something I felt when someone told rumors about my sister, or attempted to kiss my girlfriend. What I felt right now was closer to a new form of delirious anger, an unbalanced fury. I turned and moved swiftly toward the front of the theater. William stopped at the door and paid for tickets before we entered. The lady directed us upstairs to the second floor, the balcony. We found our seats in the dark and scanned the room for the two men. I spotted them down in front, first row. I spied on him. My vision darken as I zeroed in. I tasted blood where I had bit down on my tongue in an attempt to calm the growing fury. The slosh of blood going on in my head started to slow and the outside noises leaking in slowly. I heard low piano music and clapping. My body was completely numb.

  The show was going on, but all I could see was this man, this perverse man, who killed a young girl and then went to watch a ballet show afterward. He stood at one point and clapped, his bodyguard holding on
tightly to his arm and then the old man had a seat dabbing his face with a handkerchief. My stomach was about to explode again, but William’s whispered words in my ear calmed me. “He’s here for the girl. He focuses only on her during the show, no one else.” I followed William’s shaky pointed finger to the stage and found a young girl, definitely too young for college. And if I had to guess, too young for high school even. She was dressed as a fairy, a little blue fairy. I started flipping through the pamphlet they handed us at the door. My fingers felt uncoordinated as I traced the dotted line over from the blue fairy to her name: Katarina Covington.

  “One day…I am going to break her heart just like he broke mine. She will love me and I will…kill it,” I said this low and under my breath, the pamphlet crumbling in my hand. My thoughts were completely unreasonable. Here was this innocent girl; she didn’t deserve any retaliation for what the old man did, but the words were said, because like my fingers, my brain was also uncoordinated. My brain heard revenge and went for the one thing the old man valued above everything: the dancing fairy. What about my Jacy?

  William was pale after the performance; he could have been that way all along, but I was too selfish to pay any attention. I was an ass for keeping him from his family any longer. I asked Dave to take William home and told William I would follow in his car. I just needed a little time, alone. My thoughts were dark and lacked any clarity. Dave spoke a little before leaving but I didn’t hear anything he said. My head was all fucked up. Why would I go home when, I didn’t have Jacy? My world was without a forever; and what I felt was the need to make the person who did this pay. That was all that mattered. When I squeezed my eyes shut and saw Jacy on the stretcher devastation took over the rage. I never wished for death before but right now, I wished for death. The pain of not having hope for the future was too bleak and I wanted the easy way out instead of feeling…lost. When they left, I snuck back inside and made my way to the back until I found them. From a distance, I observed the old man and the blue fairy talking. She nodded at his words and I think I saw her give him a small smile before he left. He used the assistance of both body guards one on each side and appeared white as a ghost when he moved toward the exit.

  I followed her limo home that night. She lived in a mansion behind a gated driveway. So once the vehicle disappeared, she was gone. I sat in the car, my hands viciously gripping the steering wheel. I couldn’t control my need to squeeze the life out of something. I didn’t know what to do. My phone kept ringing, but my vision still had red spots and I needed longer to clear my head. I let out a couple long sighs, resigning myself to the fact that I needed to go home and face reality.

  Movement from out the corner of my eye distracted me; it was a small figure on a bike. I turned my car around and followed the petite silhouette down two blocks until she reached an ice cream parlor. I pulled in after her as she leaned her small bike against the outside of the building. I parked and hopped out, anxious to meet this little creature that was so important, that the death of my Jacy didn’t prevent the old man from attending her dance show. I cautiously walked by her and held the door as she made her way inside. It looked casual and appeared to everyone inside that we were together. I attempted to swallow the huge lump in my throat.

  “So what’s good here?” I asked her, but she didn’t talk. What the fuck? She wasn’t going to ignore me. I tapped her impatiently on the shoulder, and nothing happened. I cleared my throat and spoke a little louder.

  “I have never been here and you seem to know the place.” She peered up through her long eyelashes and I lost my ability to breathe. Her eyes were big and blue, and there was a mixture of sorrow and annoyance in them. I instantly forgot my purpose for being there and debated bolting. Her head fell back towards the floor and she was remained silent. My hand started to shake and I quickly shoved them in the pockets of my sweatshirt. I eyed the tiny, blue-eyed creature before me to take my mind off this fucked up day. She wore jeans and a black hoodie, her black hair spilling out the sides of the hood before her tiny hands reached up and she pushed the hood down completely. When she reached the front of the line, she spoke to the clerk only.

  “I want two large hot fudge sundaes with the letters K and J cookies on the side. I also want two waters.” The lady listened, entering everything into her register before turning to me.

  “That will be $16 and 80 cents.” I glanced at the girl and then the lady, confused. I then pulled out my money and handed her a twenty.

  Blue eyes made her way to the back of the restaurant. She sat at a round table and I snagged a seat across from her. It was uncomfortably quiet between us and she flashed her eyes at me again. Her face was expressionless, yet her eyes held pain and sadness. I couldn’t look away. It was like knowing a train accident was going to happen, but not being able to move or look away from it. She dropped her eyes, organizing her silverware. She took her napkin out and opened it, placing it over her small lap. Her movements were stiff and proper. The way she smoothed her napkin on her lap made me think she had done that same action a million times. She peered up at me again after straightening her silverware for the third time. Her eyes made me feel uneasy and nervous, like she could see directly into my soul.

  “I lost someone today,” I blurted out, but her face didn’t change at all. It just remained expressionless. “She was my girlfriend…my forever.” I paused as devastation surges through me. I bit my tongue hard trying to suppress the complete loss of what my future was supposed to be. I pressed the surfacing tears down giving myself a stomachache. I wouldn’t cry, I repeated in my head I wouldn’t cry right here, right now. I needed to be strong, I needed to be angry, anger was something that I could focus on; anger blocked all vulnerability, anger was intimidating. I closed my eyes blocking out the inner voices wishing I was closer to a brick wall where I could bang my head a few times to stop the head talk. I continued to ramble trying hard to explain my hurt, my anger and I wasn’t sure who I was justifying it to her or me. “We were supposed to get married.” She blinked and it was a slow blink. Her eyes shifted away, but landed back on mine. “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I can’t control anything. It’s like my world is spinning out of control and I can’t stop it.” Again, I watched as she repeated the slow motion blink and peered up at me with lifeless eyes.

  Our ice creams arrived after that and I studied her as she ate. She grabbed a straw, slipped the wrapper off, and then slowly placed it into her water. Everything she did was precise, planned. She was methodical in every action. Her long hair fell forward slightly as she leaned in to take a long drink, and then she placed the straw on a napkin next to her fork. We ate in silence. She would look at me occasionally, but it was weird, empty almost. She stopped halfway through and began eating her K cookie. When she was done, she removed the napkin from her lap, folded it neatly, and placed it by her plate. She stood up and nodded at me. I pushed away from the table, grabbing my untouched J cookie. I followed her to her bike.

  “Why J? How come you picked this cookie for me?”

  She paused, her eyes traveling to the J cookie then to my eyes. “It’s my favorite letter.” She lifted her arm to take her hoodie off. Her undershirt lifted up in the process and I saw marks, dark blue and black bruises on her back and side. I flinched at the sight. My face was frozen in shock, looking at the spots on her, until she removed her hoodie and tied it around her waist.

  “It doesn’t hurt, J.” She paused until my eyes connected with hers. “It never did. I’m numb.” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but couldn’t. “Would you like a twelve-year-old’s advice, J?” I just nodded, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling nauseated all over again. “Pretend,” she said clearly, but I was still confused. “Pretend you have control.”

  I repeated out loud, “Pretend.” I stared at her as she climbed onto her bike.

  “How long do I pretend?”

  She gave me a small smile, one that touched her sad eyes before she answer
ed, “You pretend, until you don’t have to pretend anymore. Until, you are what you pretend to be.” She turned around after that and disappeared under the streetlights. I looked down at my J cookie, crumbled in my hand. My mind focused on her words: “Pretend you have control.”