Love Thy Neighbor

by Dellwood, Janna

  Chapter 7

  But Janna hurt worse that night. The agony hit her repeatedly, like steady, oncoming waves. She lay crying in bed for hours on end, the thought of committing suicide bouncing around inside her head, the dark thought stronger than before, building and growing and twisting and devouring. And so close! Wasn't that it? The woman had been so close to establishing something she had wanted so badly for so damned long: passion, closeness, belonging. He had had her in his clutch, and now it was she who'd leaned away to avoid the kiss. Why couldn't I go through with it? Am I that stubborn? That much of a wimp? That stuck on times past? Stuck on what happened over a damned decade ago!

  She knew Baron was a completely different person than Ben and anybody else from her younger days. Yes, he might hurt her some day. Then again, maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he was 'the one'.

  None of that mattered to her anymore—so she 'told' herself, or rather, what she tried to make herself believe. She decided she would hurt tonight and wake up healed tomorrow. By morning, men, relationships, romance, sex, marriage, kids, and happily ever after would not be her priorities anymore. She would be alone, stay alone. She'd already done it for eleven years. What was another forty? There were many people on earth who never married or developed romantic relationships.

  She fell asleep before dawn, but did not remember when, and was sure she was still crying as she made the transition from consciousness to unconsciousness.

  ***

  Morning came soon enough—sunny and hot to anyone else, but drab and cold to Janna. She didn't want to deal with life today. The pain was still there, looming, lingering, piercing. Impossible to ignore. But she tried to, so the same.

  After rolling out of bed and glancing at her watch: 2:02—she walked downstairs.

  Eggs, toast, sausage, and orange juice were her breakfast this afternoon. Sometimes it was Special K. Sometimes it was oatmeal and a banana. Sometimes it was nothing until closer to evening, when the hunger really struck. She had no reason to stay on a health kick, so who cared if she packed on the pounds? Who did she have to impress? Men were ancient history as of today. The make-up in the bathroom was useless now, too. She had nowhere to go, so why keep it? I'll just throw that crap away later when I'm not so tired.

  After eating, she went to the living room and sat on the couch. The mushed cushions, old and worn, groaned under her body weight. Her hand reached for the remote on the floor, but stopped an inch away before touching it. What was the point of watching TV? Enjoyable, yes. Constructive? No. I don't deserve to be entertained. I don't deserve any of the pleasures of life. Instead, she just loafed around, staring at her despondent-looking reflection in the blank screen, letting time elapse. In her eyes, she looked like a dead young woman cursed to live about her years as a vampire, who needed blood to thrive but was damned to a world where blood wasn't in supply. Nobody could help her, because everyone was scared of her, and she couldn't do anything to help herself, because her powers were wasting away. The only thing she could do? Live out her days this way, in silence, wallowing in her own self-pity.

  An hour passed.

  Then another.

  Her gathering stack of thoughts gave way to a headache, and her depressed feelings produced a bigger hole in her heart.

  Before the tears came, she finally turned on the TV to distract herself from the torment she was causing herself.

  Judge Judy filled the bright, colorful screen as it clicked on. The brazen old woman was busy insulting the defendant, a tall, burly man dressed in a three-piece suit. “Put your listening ears on, Sir. How many times do I have to tell you that you have to pay Ms. Parker for her services?!”

  He licked his lips and sneered. “I'm listening, Your Honor, but everything she said over the phone was nothing what I expected or wanted. Why should I have to pay for something that's been falsely advertised?”

  Judy Judy smacked her desk. “Because, it's what you agreed to. See this paper? You signed it. You signed the contract—“

  “Yeah, I did, but—“

  “I'm speaking! When you sign a contract, you're supposed to read it first. It says here, here, and here, exactly what the terms of agreement are. Everything you object to is bologna. Yes, it may not have been what you expected or wanted at first, based on the ad. But it's here in the contract! You signed it! Uncross your arms.”

  The man's eyes narrowed and his sneer turned into a long sigh. “I don't believe this. This is— bullcrap.”

  “Too bad! You have to pay Ms. Parker for her services, Mr. Baron.”

  Janna felt a solid wave of realization and uncertainty crash into her as Judge Judy spoke the name. Whoa.

  Janna quickly turned off the TV.

  Coincidence, she told herself. It's a coincidence that I turned on the TV, right when that name was spoken. That's all. Dumb luck. Chance. It means nothing.

  Deeper down, however, the doubt struggled to reach the surface to tell her she was wrong.

  So here she sat, in silence, but far from content.

  ***

  Janna fell asleep not long after that, and awoke four hours later to the sound of two closing car doors outside. Probably Baron and his sister...

  Oh, who cares?

  She really didn't want to care. She tried not to, but couldn't help herself. It poked at her, over and over.

  Forget him. Forget him. Forget him!

  You're weak. You're attached already, so that makes you weak, Jan.

  Or am I weak because I'm denying all my emotions?

  Subconsciously, she stood up on her tingly, drowsy legs and glided to the window in the dark. With her left hand, she pulled back the curtain. With her right, she pulled down a slat from the blinds. What she saw made her sick, inside and out.

  Baron... he helped a tipsy, giggling blonde bombshell up his porch steps. They were both dressed as if they'd come from a bar or a club. It was not his sister. This girl was even prettier than Amy, with mid-length blonde hair, a big, luscious booty, and boobs the size of watermellons. The two disappeared into his house. Lights burned to life in the downstairs window, then, a moment later, the right upstairs window. That window had no curtain or blinds to prevent any onlooker from looking in. Janna did just that.

  She watched with tears in her eyes as they kissed, fondled and ravaged each other in a show of ecstasy. She watched with a heavy stomach as the woman yanked off her top, grabbed his hand, and placed it on her breast. She watched them fool around until they moved out of her line of sight. I don't want to see any more anyways.

  Janna stumbled back from the window, crying, her steady stream of tears blurring her vision. In spite of the heartache, she now knew the truth. Baron was a player. Had things happened differently the night before, he would have fucked her and kicked her out. So maybe her decision had been the right one after all.

  It still hurt, though. She had developed feelings for him, and this was a shock she should have expected. There was a reason why women said Men Are Pigs. If they weren't pigs, what else were they?

  They aren't any good, that's for sure.

  ***

  Time went by, as always. It could have been nine o' clock or three in the morning by the time she came out of her little spell, Janna didn't know. Time seemed lost and unaccounted for. Crying did that to a person. You lose yourself in the passage, as well as some of your sanity. Then, when you find the groove back again, you're a little less of a person than what you were before your emotions wrecked havoc.

  Tired and drained, she lay on her couch in the inky blackness, unable to fall asleep. There was just too much to sort out, make sense of. She didn't really want to do either of the two; she wanted to break something, do something that didn't require conscious decision.

  But the sudden knock at the door distracted her from doing anything.

  It scared Janna. Her adrenaline picked up where her thoughts had left off. Who the hell could it be at this hour? A burglar? Someone who needed to call a tow? Laura? The cops? Ben? B—


  “Janna, open up. It's me—Baron.”

  Happily obliged, asshole.

  She answered it with the intention of telling him off. “What do you want?”

  The white shirt he was wearing was missing buttons and blotched with lipstick stains—it was hard to see without much light, but it was noticeable.

  “I have to talk to you,” he said. “Can I come in?”

  “Why? So you can take advantage of me?”

  “Look, I'm sorry about last night. We—“

  Janna interrupted: “This has nothing to do with last night, okay? I'm not an idiot. I know what kind of man you really are.” She pursed her lips, sharpened her eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Baron's brows lowered, came together. “I don't understand.”

  “Let me spell it out for you. Go to hell!” She went to slam the door on him, but he wedged his foot in before it closed.

  “What's wrong? Why are you doing this? I have something I want to tell you!”

  “Get your foot out of the door and leave, you jerk!”

  “Why? What did I do?”

  “You know what you did!” She kept trying to close the door; he kept keeping it from shutting.

  “You screw all the girls in town now, don't you?”

  That's when he grabbed the door and opened it up just far enough to poke his head inside. Pinpricks of reflected streetlight illuminated his eyes in their centers. “I was confused, okay? I'm not perfect. I went to the bar, had a few too many, and things happened. I make mistakes. I did it because of you, Janna. I wanted to feel what we felt last night. Yes, it almost happened, but I kept seeing your face. I kicked her out before anything happened. I made her leave because you're the one I want. For whatever reason, I can't take my mind off you. I don't know why. This... I never felt this way about anybody before.”

  No lick of response formed within her mind. No resolve. Any trace of rationale dissolved away. This was a new kind of brain fart. Words could not express the confusion brimming within her. Should she be more angry? Was he lying? Was this some sort of trick? Had he had his way with that girl and now wanted to sample another dessert?

  “Janna?”

  Speaking never seemed more difficult. Words did blurt out, but she was hardly aware of what she was saying or if they made any sense. “I don't know, Baron. I just... don't... think that...”

  Then she remembered Judge Judy saying: “Too bad! You have to pay Ms. Parker for her services, Mr. Baron.”

  She remembered the kiss.

  Remembered his hand creeping up her dress.

  Remembered watching his tush jiggle as he jogged down her porch steps.

  Remembered how glorious his smile was to look at.

  Remembered she was supposed to have given up on romance.

  “Why did you leave last night?” He smirked a comforting smirk that made her feel at ease. “You know I'm not going to treat you like that jackass did. You can give up on us guys—that's your choice. But don't shut the whole world out because of the bad.”

  Shit! He's telling the truth, I just don't want to hear it. “Where did you go tonight, Baron?” She took down her guard a little.

  “The Lounge. It's—“

  “I know where it is. It's a club.”

  “Have you been there before?”

  “No... not until tonight. If they're still open, that is.” She smiled and blinked and dropped her guard to the floor.

  He held out his hand. “I'd be honored to take you there. It's only one now. I don't think they close till two-thirty or three. I got wheels now, too.”

  She gladly took his hand, stepped outside with him, and shut the door behind her. Together, they walked toward the parked SUV across the street. Minutes later, they were on the road.

  ***

  The Lounge was a large brick structure located between the Denburg Fire Department building and Piker's Running Trail, a five-mile stretch of blacktop that ran from one end of town to the other. The Lounge, the biggest, most booming club in the area, boasted itself with big, bright, blinking neon letters that blinded some drivers when nights were especially dark. Tonight, the gravel parking lot was clustered with rows of vehicles spaced barely feet apart. The place was intimidating to Janna as Baron turned onto Vixon Street, braked at a red light, and continued when it turned back to green. There were so many people, so many bright lights. She could hear the thundering music blaring from half a block away. It was a lot for her to handle, but she was going to swallow her fears and deal with it. She was going to finally have fun like a normal person.

  Baron noticed her big, awed eyes. “You all right?”

  “I think so.”

  “You'll be fine. I'll be with you to take care of you, and if any asshole lays a hand on you, I'll punch him in the face again.”

  “Sounds good. Oh boy.”

  “Don't worry. It'll all be okay.”

  It'll all be okay... those words were as unfamiliar to Janna's ears as sand was to a penguin.

  “Well, here we are,” Baron said, parking the car and turning the ignition. “Shall we?”

  “Uh... I guess.”

  “Did you ever get out? I mean, out of your house? Were you always reclusive?”

  “No. I used to be an outgoing busybody. But that was in junior high.”

  “Maybe you just never had someone to show you how.”

  She smiled. Under the glow of the powerful neon lights, she, in Baron's eyes, looked more beautiful than a full rainbow or a colorful sunset or a cascading waterfall. No supermodel on her best day could look so appealing.

  “Let's go,” he said.

  She opened her door. He opened his. They both got out and walked toward the entrance, where, together, they entered.

  The place was jam-packed with well-dressed twenty-somethings dancing, drinking, making out, shouting, laughing. Lights of every color lit the room in rapid succession from all directions. It reminded Janna of the funhouse she once walked through as a teen. The techno music could be felt as well as heard. Assault on the ears; constant thumping in the chest. Nothing about the entire scene was anything like she'd expected. There were no drunks causing trouble, no public fornication, no couples arguing. Everybody was happy, joyous, celebrating life. And she'd spent the majority of hers by herself, quietly, miserable?

  What have I done?

  Tonight, now, she swore she would shed her old skin. Join in where she did belong.

  “Ever dance before?” Baron had to shout to make himself be heard.

  “No!”

  “No?! Are you serious? Come on, let's try it.”

  Baron took her by the hand and led her out into the sea of thrashing bodies. You couldn't move an inch without bumping into someone. A woman to her left screamed in laughter. A guy to her right danced dirty with a scantly-clad red head with bad acne. The music raged on. The lights ignited the room.

  “Okay,” Baron said, coming to a stop.

  “How do we dance?”

  “You let go, let your body move and express itself any way it wants to. Here.”

  He grabbed her hands, and they started their dance. She didn't know what she was doing, how well or how poorly she was doing it, but she let go and did it. He guided her, twirled her, brought her close and back out again, made her laugh without cracking a joke or doing anything that funny. Janna forgot about her impositions and problems. This was what she needed. For a while, the only thing that bothered her was one simple fact: that she hadn't done this sooner.

  “Having fun?” Baron shouted through the noise.

  “Can't remember when I had so much fun. Thank you!” Her eyes glittered.

  “It's my pleasure, Janna. I'm just glad you got out and tried something new.”

  “We should come here every night.”

  He tilted his head back and laughed. His Adam's apple bobbed. “Anytime.”

  ***

  The night went on. They danced themselves out of breath and into a sweat. Baron asked her if s
he wanted a water; she decided she'd have her first beer. The thought of drinking alcohol scared her, but so had coming to this club. Lordy, what didn't scare the woman?

  “I'll be back in one sec.” He walked away from her, fought his way through the crowd and to the bar.

  Janna remained on the dance floor, closed her eyes, and, for a moment, danced by herself. For herself. She owed it to that hurt little girl inside. That girl needed freed.

  The music stopped, restarted, and swelled. The lights began flashing like strobes. People bumped into her, knocking her around. Her thoughts went askew. They all got too close to her. A shoulder made her stumble. An elbow brushed against her upper arm. “Sorry!”

  She suddenly felt overwhelmed, smothered, lost again. This kind of environment was too much for her too soon. These people were strangers, and who knew what their real intentions were? The lights were too hard on the eyes, the music and noise too hard on the ears. It all caught up with her, engulfed her like an evil shadow. It's when somebody's hand—she knew it wasn't Baron's—grabbed her ass and squeezed it for a quick, cheap thrill.

  Janna turned and pushed through the herd, shoving people out of the way, knocking beers out of people's hands, the EXIT door the prevailing thing on her mind. Soon enough, she reached it, opened it, stepped out into the crisp cool air. Some of the panic went away. What she wanted more than anything was to go home—her ultimate security blanket.

  “What the hell happened?” Baron said, coming up behind her with two beers in either hand. “Why are you crying?”

  She wasn't aware she'd started to do so. “I gotta go back home. I don't feel well.”

  “Why? Did something happen? Did someone—“

  “Dammit, don't you know yet what kind of basket case I am? Why do you like me? You're not supposed to.”

  “That's the bullshit talking.”

  “No, this place is bullshit. It's just not me.”

  “Five minutes ago, Janna. Five minutes ago I saw a different person. A confident person. A beautiful woman who was starting to come out of her shell. What changed?”