Whatever normal means.
“I don’t know why you wasted your money on these stupid things,” Alex said to Jillian. “They don’t look real.”
“If I wasn’t driving, I’d kick your ass right now,” she threatened.
“Listen, I’m running away with you. Isn’t that enough?”
She exhaled as her mood shifted back to euphoria. “My God, you’re so good to me, Alex. You’re my saving grace. You know that, right?”
Alex and Robby
Robby felt his breath sharpen in his lungs. It reminded him of the second grade when a female classmate with crooked blond pigtails stabbed him in the left shoulder with a pencil. To this day, there was still a small piece of lead stuck inside him: a tiny black dot could be seen just below the surface of his pale skin.
Robby felt his throat tighten and his mind start to panic, as if he were going to suffocate, hyperventilate. The sensation only lasted for a few seconds. He wasn’t sure if it was because his ribs felt cracked or because Alex was touching him. Robby closed his eyes, exhaled. He concentrated on the tips of Alex’s fingers as they moved slowly across the top of his hand, trailing across his bruised knuckles like a cool breeze. Robby shuddered a little, opened his eyes, and looked out the passenger window as the car rattled through the rural outskirts of Harmonville.
“I really am sorry,” Alex said, now that they were alone. He braked, stopped the car at a lonely red light. The Geo Prizm was packed and they were on their way to Value Mart to rescue Jillian.
Robby glanced at the green numbers illuminated on the dashboard clock. They were right on schedule, just as Alex planned. The sun was just starting to set.
“You’re scared to look at me,” Robby said, expecting Alex to pull his hand away. Instead, Alex wove his fingers through Robby’s and gently squeezed.
“They hurt you real bad.” Alex shoved down the tears rising inside him. Silently, he swore in Armenian and ached again for his dead mother. “I wish I would have been there for you.”
Robby tried to smile, but his swollen mouth barely moved. “Then we both would’ve been in bad shape.”
“I can still take you to a doctor—the hospital.”
Robby’s words were unusually sharp. “No.” He pulled his hand away from Alex’s. “You said we were leaving. I want to go.”
“We are. We are.” Alex reached for him again, his right hand drifting up to the left side of Robby’s face. Robby flinched a little when Alex touched him, but he welcomed the comfort it offered. The left side of his face had been spared from the beating, but the right side was a brutal confusion of puffy and raw purple, yellow, and blackened skin. There was a thick gash across the bridge of his nose. The white of his right eye was speckled with bits of blood. His lips were cracked and split, bloated so his mouth couldn’t fully close. Alex noticed the back of Robby’s left hand was scraped, as if he’d tried to fight his attackers off. The words stumbled out of Alex’s mouth. “I love you.”
Robby turned to him, managing a smile. The sight of his wounds created a deep hollowness inside Alex. He felt like he’d been gutted alive. “I love you, too,” Robby replied, his words a soft whisper.
“I hate them for what they’ve done to you,” Alex said. “To us.”
“It’s a good plan,” Robby said, changing the subject. “To leave and go to Chicago. I’ve never really cared for Georgia. It’s never felt like home to me. But Pittsburgh didn’t either.”
The light turned green and the car lurched forward. Alex refused to switch topics, determined to stay on track. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”
“I’m not hurt,” Robby responded. “I feel numb.” It wasn’t the truth, but Robby knew it was what Alex wanted to hear. Pleasing people was a habit for Robby. Being well-liked was not important to him—he didn’t like those around him to feel uncomfortable.
“You’ve just gotten the hell beaten out of you,” Alex replied. “I know you’re in pain.”
Tears sprang to Robby’s eyes, surprising him. “I think there were three of them,” he stammered.
Alex made a left turn. His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Robby, you don’t have to talk about this,” he whispered, sorry to have brought it up again, for having pushed.
The words spilled out of Robby in a hot stream. “I was leaving drama class, the auditorium. I took the stage door exit to the parking lot.”
Alex felt the back of his neck throb with sweat. Guilt flooded over him, burned his cheeks. He was supposed to have met Robby—but was scared he was going to be late for his next class, so he hadn’t.
“They were waiting for me. Eric and Hunter…and Tommy. I think it was them. At least that’s what the nurse told me while I was waiting for you. Do you think they’ll get expelled?”
“It was them?” Alex’s left cheek nervously twitched a little at the mention of Tommy’s name. What a hypocrite, Alex thought.
“All three of them,” Robby continued. “They called me a fag. Said I should die. But…I didn’t.”
“What did you do? Did you run?”
“Not at first. But when I did…they caught me.”
“What happened then?”
“They told me to suck their dicks.”
“And? What did you say?”
Robby turned to Alex, his wave of emotion subsiding. “What do you think I said to them?”
“I hope you told them all to go fuck themselves.”
Robby shook his head. “I told them they weren’t my type.” Alex grinned, and the sight of his perfectly carved dimples eased the pain Robby was feeling in his ribs. “I told them you were the only man who was ever allowed to touch me.”
Jillian
Jillian had never been polite. It wasn’t that she went out of her way to be rude—she simply chose to speak her mind. She’d inherited the trait from her grandmother.
“Are you on a break?” Sue Ellen Freeman asked in her drippy voice, cutting through Jillian’s solitude.
Jillian looked up from where she sat on the floor in the middle of an aisle in Value Mart. There was a half-eaten can of Pringles in her lap. Jillian licked her fingertips, sucking the salt and vinegar flavor from her skin. Sue Ellen stood above her, like an overgrown road block in a red, white, and blue smock, black leggings, and ugly shoes. Her permanently damaged hair was a gnarled mess of blond frizz and frosted curls. “None of your business, sweetheart,” Jillian replied with a wink.
Sue Ellen’s chubby cheeks flushed. She took an uncertain step back. “I was just asking.” She stopped, and a strange look crept over her face, as if she’d just smelled something gross. “Oh my Lord, what happened to you? Your eyes. They look strange. They’re two different colors…” Jillian shot her a warning look, but Sue Ellen had to keep going. “Were you born that way? I never noticed before.”
“You know what?” Jillian continued. “You’re the nosiest woman I’ve ever met in my life. I mean, really…don’t you have anything else better to do?”
Sue Ellen huffed, folded her arms across her massive chest. “Your shift isn’t over yet, missy. You’re supposed to be on register twelve.”
“And where are you supposed to be?”
Sue Ellen gestured to the two rows of gardening tools and accessories spilling off the shelves of the aisle they shared. “I’m stocking lawn and garden,” she said with a sniff. Jillian contemplated smacking Sue Ellen over the head with a ceramic garden gnome or whipping her to death with a hose—both were satisfying thoughts.
“That seems fitting for a girl like you.” Jillian gingerly reached two fingers into the cardboard tube of chips and pulled out three. “I’m sure you have a lot in common with fertilizer.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Sue Ellen’s thick Southern drawl made Jillian cringe. “You’re sitting here on the floor, eating some Pringles like you own the damn place.”
“I wish I did,” Jillian snapped. “The first thing I’d do is fire your fat ass. You always
sound like you have snot up your nose when you talk. Go get a Kleenex.”
Sue Ellen straightened her red, white, and blue name tag and said, “I hear you’re leaving. You quit.”
Jillian swiped at some crumbs resting on the top of her pregnant belly. “Aw, are you sad to see me go?”
“I can’t say I am.” Sue Ellen smiled, smug. “Running away in shame, are you? A home for pregnant girls without a husband?”
If the words affected Jillian, she didn’t let it show. “I’m too young to get married.” She followed that up with, “What’s your excuse?”
Sue Ellen sighed, feeling superior. “For your information, I’m engaged.”
“For your sake, I hope he owns a restaurant.” Jillian laughed, amused. “An all-you-can-eat buffet. Otherwise, you might wither away to normal.”
The anger flashed in Sue Ellen’s eyes and her forehead turned a shade of purple. “If I weren’t a Christian woman—”
“Yeah, Sue Ellen, you’re a real good Christian. Snaking twenties out of your register every chance you get and giving blow jobs to George in automotive. I’m sure when the neighbors come by your house to say hello, you crawl out from underneath the porch and bark at ’em.”
Jillian had pushed Sue Ellen Freeman past her breaking point. “You nasty little bitch.” She stepped forward and her scuffed high heels scraped across the dingy floor.
“What are you gonna do, hit a pregnant woman?” Jillian popped another potato chip into her mouth.
Sue Ellen recoiled. “I feel sorry for you. Only eighteen. Knocked up by your psycho teacher. You’re filthy trash, Jillian Dambro. So is your mother.”
Jillian laughed again and said, “Sticks and stones, fat girl. Sticks and stones.”
Sue Ellen lost all composure and suddenly shrieked, “What have I ever done to you?”
Jillian rubbed two fingers together, ridding them of salt and crumbs. “Well, back when you were skinny—about four thousand years ago—you were a complete bitch to me in high school. I was a freshman. You were an oversexed senior.”
Sue Ellen breathed deep, trying to regain control of the situation. “That was a long time ago. I’ve found the Lord since then.”
“Well, were you hiding from him? You’re kind of hard to miss.” Jillian swallowed, craving a Wild Cherry Pepsi. “You came up to me in the hallway one day and told me not to worry. You said I wouldn’t look like a boy for the rest of my life. You thought it was funny to embarrass me in front of your slutty friends.”
Sue Ellen did a poor job of feigning innocence. “I did no such thing.”
“You also told half the county I boned down on your ugly cousin in Riverdale. Like I’d even touch that piece of trailer trash. He’s almost as nasty as your brother.”
“I’ll have you know Tommy just found out this morning he’s going to college next year on a football scholarship. They paid for everything for him.”
Jillian tried to hold back her laughter. “Well, that’s a good thing, Sue Ellen, because Tommy is dumber than a box of rocks.”
“Is that why you wouldn’t go out with him? Because you think you’re better than us?”
“Despite my obvious state of pregnancy, I’ve never cared for the boys in this town.”
“Because you were too busy playing Barbies with your Middle Eastern homo. You’re no better than a terrorist, Jillian.”
“He’s Armenian, you dumb cow. Take a geography class, will you?”
“I don’t care if his mother did die, he’s still going to burn in hell.” Sue Ellen’s face looked sunburned, she was so mad. “And so will you for having the bastard child of a married man. He was your teacher, Jillian. For your information, it’s all over the news. I saw it this morning. They even showed his picture so everyone knows what a horrible man he is.”
Jillian felt weak. “What are you talking about?”
“One of those news stations did a big story about it. He’s a predator. They even said so.”
“It was just the local news, right?” Jillian asked. Her mouth felt dry.
Sue Ellen grinned and said with pleasure, “It’s national news.”
“Fuck,” Jillian said. “Did they mention my name?”
“No,” Sue Ellen said, disappointed. “Lucky for you they didn’t interview me. I would’ve told them the disgusting truth about you.”
“It doesn’t matter, because everybody knows you’re the one who gave Hunter Killinger a case of crabs.”
Sue Ellen’s nasal whine shot up again. “Are you the one who started that rumor?”
Jillian batted her eyes and replied in an exaggerated drawl, “Heavens no. I’m a good Christian. I’m just a simple girl from a small town in Georgia who dreams about marrying a bowlegged truck driver.” Jillian laughed again. “Get the fuck away from me. Let me enjoy my last few minutes in this redneck rodeo in peace.”
Sue Ellen took another daring step forward. “I hope your baby is born retarded,” she spat out. She turned quickly and made her escape, shuffling down the aisle.
“Go with God, Sue Ellen!” Jillian yelled after her. “Stupid bitch.”
Jillian took her time finishing the rest of her potato chips. When those were gone, she lifted the can to her mouth, tilted it up, and showered her tongue with crumbs. She chewed like a maniac, angry and anxious. She cursed the day Sue Ellen Freeman was born. She fumed with rage over Harley LaMont and the ridiculous affair she’d had with him. She prayed Alex and Robby were on their way so the three of them could get on the road to Chicago.
Jillian looked down at the dirty floor, smudged with grime and shoe marks. She hoped her daughter would never have to work in a place like this. A job at Value Mart had been her last resort. She had filled out the application and accepted the position two days after her visit to the Tanglewood County Department of Health. “You’re eight weeks pregnant…do you know who the father is?”
The first person Jillian had told was Alex. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” he’d promised, holding her in his arms while she cried. Alex had kept his word. That was the type of guy he was.
Jillian glanced to her left at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Hey, Tanya,” she said to the petite, rail-thin brunette with braces. “You seen Alex?”
Tanya seemed unusually nervous: hands on her tiny hips, drumming her fingertips against her studded belt. “No. Why? Is he supposed to be coming by here?”
Jillian tossed the empty can of Pringles onto a shelf close to the ground, where she sat like a garden statue. “Yeah. He’ll be here later, but I’m kinda hoping he decides to rescue me sooner than we planned.” She extended a hand up to Tanya. “Help me up, will you?”
Tanya obliged, struggling to heave Jillian back up to her feet.
Jillian fluffed up the back of her hair, brushed remnant crumbs from the front of her red, white, and blue sleeveless Value Mart smock.
Tanya suddenly glanced down both sides of the aisle as if she were making certain they were alone, out of earshot of gossipy coworkers and customers. She leaned in toward Jillian and whispered, “I need to tell you something. It’s about Mr. LaMont.”
The seriousness in Tanya’s voice shot a chill down Jillian’s spine. It was a premonition of sorts, as if she knew something terrible was about to happen. Jillian felt her breath quicken as she tried to dismiss the intensity of her feelings and said, jokingly, “Are you pregnant, too?”
Tanya’s blue eyes grew a little wider. Her left hand went up to her ear and she toyed with one of her silver hoop earrings. “Jillian, he was here.”
The panic began to pour through Jillian. She felt it in her chest, spreading like brush fire. Her palms started to sweat, strands of hair stuck to the back of her neck. Stay calm, she told herself. This has nothing to do with you. She feared the answer when she asked Tanya, “At the store?”
Tanya looked as if she might cry when she replied, “Yes.”
Jillian’s face paled. Her heart started rattling, pulsing like a pounding
knock on a closed door. She placed a protective hand over her belly, certain her baby was realizing she was scared. “When?”
Realizing Jillian was concerned, Tanya said quickly, “George said he came in a few minutes ago.”
“For what?”
Tanya’s shoulders tightened with tension. She wiped the corners of her mouth with a shaking hand. “I’m not sure if I should tell you. I don’t want you to get upset. You’re pregnant and—”
“Did he buy something, Tanya?” The girl was silent. It seemed like she desperately wanted to speak, but couldn’t get her words out. Jillian pushed on. “What did he buy?”
Tanya’s voice cracked when she answered, “A Winchester.”
Jillian felt the back of her knees weaken. The shelves around them seemed to be caving in; the aisle was shutting tight like a mouth devouring food. “A rifle? They sold Harley a gun?”
“I just heard about it—”
On impulse, Jillian started to move. Tanya followed quickly, trying to keep up. Jillian hurried down the aisle, toward a wider main aisle cutting across the store from front to back. “I want you to call the police.”
Tanya could barely breathe. “What?”
The words of a desperate man rang in Jillian’s mind, catapulted from the grounds of her memory. “If you ever try to leave me, I’ll go crazy…don’t worry, I know your work schedule by heart…I’ll know where to find you.”
A grave realization flooded Jillian in a cold flash. She said it aloud, terrified by her own words: “I switched schedules.”
Tanya’s jaw clenched with confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Jillian and Tanya reached the main aisle. They stood in the center, both of their eyes darting around, frightened. Jillian tried to get her thoughts out calmly. “Today is Friday. I usually work from seven until midnight. I came in at four instead. I switched schedules with Amber.” Jillian looked around, her head snapping from right to left. She scanned the faces of the shoppers, searching their eyes to make certain none of them were him. She turned back to Tanya. “What time is it?”
Swimming to Chicago Page 14
