Vicarious

by Paula Stokes

  “And what do I treat you like?”

  “A wounded animal,” I say. “A victim.” I know Jesse can’t help it. He’s protecting us both. I know he means well, but I refuse to be a victim anymore.

  I stretch out in the bed, staring up at the textured ceiling of the hotel room. Jesse doesn’t have anything to say about how he treats me. We both know why he does it. We both know he might always do it.

  We both know it’s never going to work for me.

  Tears rise up like a flash flood. I don’t want to lose Jesse completely, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life constantly being reminded of how broken I am, either.

  He sits on the edge of the mattress and watches me cry, one hand brushing my hair back from my face. Finally he says, “Tell me what I can do to make this better.”

  “You wish I’d never told you about my past, don’t you?” I ask.

  “No.” He shakes his head violently. “As much as I hate the thought of what you went through, I want to know all of you, Winter. I just don’t want to hurt you more.”

  “I’ll be fine. I just need a few minutes to calm down.” I wipe my eyes with the back of one hand. “I think I might get some air, walk down to the pool.”

  “You can have the room to yourself if you want,” Jesse says softly. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “All right.” I stare at the ceiling again until Jesse disappears into the bathroom. When I hear the water start to run, I cry harder. I hate that I hurt him, but it needed to be said. I know he wants to be with me. It’s better he know now why it might never happen.

  I think about what it felt like to be so close to Jesse, to almost be loved. A wound opens inside me at the sheer loss of possibility. I fight back another wave of tears.

  Slipping out from beneath the covers, I trade my sweatpants for a pair of jeans. This room is suffocating me. I put on my shirt, finger-comb my hair, and grab one of the keycards.

  I unbolt the door and open it. A blast of chilly air wafts in from the hallway and my skin turns to gooseflesh. The hotel must keep their air con on about sixty degrees.

  Letting the door fall shut, I turn back to survey the room. The only hoodie I brought is full of sand from the day’s outing. I glance around at Jesse’s side of the room. He’s replaced all of his clothes back into his duffel bag, which is half tucked beneath his bed.

  He won’t care if I borrow a sweatshirt. He’s always trying to get me to wear his clothes. I cross the room and start to unzip his bag, but then I notice one of his hoodies folded neatly behind it—all the way under his bed, almost completely out of sight.

  Grabbing the sweatshirt, I tug it over my head, comforted by the faint scent of Jesse’s deodorant that holds fast to it. As I’m heading back to the door, I slip my hands into the hoodie’s middle pocket almost without thinking. My fingers graze hard plastic. A lot of hard plastic.

  I pull out a handful of blue memory cards, my insides going even colder as I see my neatly labeled numbers on them.

  CHAPTER 34

  It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing, but then dread washes over me. Does this mean … No, it can’t. I swallow hard. But there’s no other explanation. Jesse staged the hotel room burglary in order to steal the ViSEs. That’s what he was doing when he left me in the lobby at breakfast and went back for his headset. It was all a lie. Which means there must be something horrible on one of these recordings—something that implicates him in Rose’s death.

  My throat feels thick. I struggle to breathe. Should I try to play them right now, before he gets out of the shower? If I do, he might catch me. I’ve been so sure Jesse would never hurt me, but someone who would craft such an elaborate lie could be capable of anything. I could go out for that walk like I planned, but I don’t feel safe vising in a public place. I could wait until he’s done showering and lock myself in the bathroom to play them. That’s a smart idea. A rational idea.

  I am not feeling rational.

  I have to know what he’s hiding from me.

  Stripping off the hoodie, I take the ViSEs back to my bed. One at a time, I slip each of the cards I haven’t played into my headset. It doesn’t take me long to find it. A ViSE of Jesse and Rose.

  Jesse is standing in the hallway outside the penthouse. “Your hair is wavy,” he says.

  I remember the wig I wore to Zoo. Rose must have been wearing it to record this.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Sure. But I like it regular too.” He looks down at me. “Are you going to let me in?”

  Without speaking, I open the door wide enough so that he can enter.

  “So did you mean those things you said on the phone?” he asks, his voice low. “Or are you just messing with me?”

  “Oh, you’ll know when I’m messing with you.” My lips curl into a grin.

  Jesse cocks his head to the side. “I have to say I’m surprised. You’ve never acted like you were into me.”

  “Maybe it just took me a while to figure out what I wanted.” I shut the door and lead Jesse into the living room.

  “You sound funny,” he says. “And you’re acting weird. Have you been drinking?”

  I let out a throaty, but girlish giggle. “I’m just happy to see you.”

  “Well, I’ve been drinking,” Jesse admits. “I needed a little liquid courage.”

  “Why?” My smile widens.

  “I don’t know. I’m nervous.” He clasps his fingers together in front of his body.

  “You worry too much,” I say, pressing him back against the living room wall.

  A sharp pain spikes through my chest.

  “Me? You worry—”

  I silence him with a kiss. His eyes widen but then fall shut. And so do mine. He tastes like liquor and breath mints. He wraps his arms around me. Heat radiates through me as his mouth traces its way down my neck to my collarbone.

  He groans softly. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

  “I can.” Opening my eyes, I break away and lead him to the sofa.

  The pain extends down into my stomach and up into my throat. No wonder Jesse didn’t want me to see this.

  I can’t play this.

  I have to play this.

  I can only bear to engage the recording in small snippets, opening my eyes wide every few seconds to block out some of the experience. The ViSE plays out like a movie montage, a series of separate scenes fused together by my beating heart.

  Beat.

  I pull him down onto the sofa with me.

  Beat.

  More kissing. “What are you doing?” he says. Instead of answering, I begin to unbutton my shirt.

  Beat.

  Jesse stares for a moment. Then he folds back the fabric, his mouth tracing the curve of my left breast. His hands are everywhere. Soft. Caressing. “You are so beautiful. So much more than I deserve.”

  Beat.

  He shucks off his shirt and then pulls me in close, his strong grip locking our bodies together. He kisses me hard as his hands explore the flesh of my back.

  My breath hitches; blood courses through my veins. I’m not sure how much more I can take. I pause the ViSE and open my eyes for a moment. The hotel room is quiet. Jeese is still in the bathroom. Bile burns in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut again. I have to know exactly how far this goes. I have to know how deep the secrets run between Rose and me.

  I lie back and pull him down on top of me. Our bodies twine together. I can feel how much he wants me. But still, his touch is so gentle. “Are you sure?” he murmurs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I rock against him and pleasure explodes in my brain. I exhale sharply. “I want you to hurt me.”

  “Winter?”

  My eyes flick open. Jesse stands in the bathroom doorway wearing only a towel. His face is ghost pale. I yank the headset off without even pressing pause, flinching from the shock. My face goes red with shame and then anger at the thought I should feel ashamed. Clearly, Jesse is the o
ne who should feel bad.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice wavers slightly.

  “Tell you what?”

  “I want you to hurt me,” I spit out. “That does sound like something my sister would say.”

  Jesse tightens the towel around his waist and steps toward me. “It’s not what you think.”

  I scoot backward. “Stay away from me.” I dig in my duffel bag and come up gripping one of my throwing knives.

  “Winter…” Jesse’s voice falters.

  I position both my bed and my blade between us. “If it’s not what I think, what is it then?”

  Jesse sighs. He slips on a pair of pajama pants and lets the towel fall to the floor. He approaches me again, both hands raised in surrender. “We both know you’re not going to throw that at me.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” I gesture at the headset. “Did I know about this? And block it out? Was I mad at Rose?” Finally a guy seems to like me and she has to go and seduce him. Maybe I care about Jesse more than I realize.

  Maybe some part of me hated my sister.

  Maybe I killed her.

  “It’s complicated.” Jesse sits on the edge of his bed, a storm of emotions flitting across his face.

  “Oh, I bet it is.” I toss the knife, headset, and ViSEs into my bag and yank my sandy sweatshirt over my head. I can’t be here anymore. It’s not even the fact that Jesse was with her. It’s the way he held her, like she was made of porcelain. Like she was perfect. “If she was so much more than you deserve, what am I? Some cheap replacement?” I look away. “How long were you two—I mean, why keep it a secret? Everyone preferred her to me. I would have understood.”

  “I don’t prefer her to you,” Jesse says. “I never have. Just listen.”

  But I can’t listen. I keep playing the ViSE in my head, feeling his soft touch, hearing him say things that a guy would never say to a girl unless she mattered.

  “How come you’re not more upset that she’s gone?” My face is wet. I don’t even remember starting to cry.

  “I am upset, but only because of what it’s doing to you.” Jesse makes his way toward the foot of my bed, positioning himself between me and the door. “Winter, please. There has never been anything between me and your sister.”

  “How stupid do you think I am, Jesse?”

  “Did you finish the recording?”

  I shudder a little at the implications of that. “I saw enough.”

  “If you don’t believe me, you need to play the end.”

  “No thanks.” I push past him and head for the door.

  He grabs me before I make it out into the hallway. Spinning me around, he forces me up against the wall of the hotel room. “Your sister didn’t record that ViSE,” he says. “It was—”

  I cut him off, wrestling free of his grip. “Seriously? What is that? Some bullshit version of the ‘it wasn’t me’ defense? I know my own home. So try again.”

  I expect him to deny it, but he doesn’t say anything. He just waits.

  Watches.

  “Well?” I finally prompt. “You’re expecting me to believe some other girl invited you into the penthouse and seduced you?”

  “I can’t believe there’s no part of you that remembers. Not even after tonight. I thought maybe when I touched you—” His voice cracks. He buries his face in his hands. “Jesus Christ, what does that make me?”

  And then it hits me, like the fifteen-foot tiger shark ramming into our cage. “Me? You’re trying to say I recorded that?”

  Jesse stares at the plush carpet. “I didn’t know.” His voice is hollow. “I didn’t know you black out, that you forget things. Gideon told me afterward.”

  I laugh—a brittle metallic sound. “You’re trying to say I invited you over, seduced you, and then forgot all about it? Wow, you must not have been very good.”

  Jesse deflates like I stabbed him. “I deserve that,” he says. “Trust me, you can’t hurt me worse than I’ve hurt myself over this. Imagine falling for a girl who spends months pushing you away only to one night seem crazy about you.” He glances up at me. “And you know it’s too good to be true, but you let yourself believe it anyway because you’ve wanted her for so long. And then the next day she doesn’t remember any of it. And then you find out she’s got PTSD, that she represses bad memories. And all you can think is that maybe you took advantage of a girl with … problems. That if she knew what had happened she’d hate you, and you wouldn’t even blame her.”

  “Stop it.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and press my fingertips to my temples. “Just stop it. You’re lying to me. Rose lied to me. Next thing I know, Gideon will be lying to me.”

  “Gideon.” Jesse shudders. “I have never seen him so pissed in my entire life. He threatened to break every bone in my body. That’s the only reason he told me about your condition. The only reason he didn’t fire me—or murder me—was because I told him I was falling for you.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “They trained you in the army, right? To trick people. To manipulate. You’re really good at it. You staged a burglary to hide this from me.” My whole body is shaking. Words are flying out of my mouth, sharp, uncontrolled, a spool of barbed wire unraveling. “That’s insane. You’re the crazy one, not me.”

  Jesse continues like I didn’t even say anything. “Every time I see you, all I can think about is how it felt to be so close to you. How much it meant to me. And how to you it must’ve meant nothing. You apparently never wanted it to happen.” He rests his forehead in his hands.

  “Because it didn’t happen!” If I did that, then God only knows what I’ve done and forgotten about. Jesse is manipulating me. He has to be. I remind myself of the way everyone looked in his Phantasm ViSE. Like prey.

  I will not be prey.

  “You’re a liar.” I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder and grab my backpack from the floor. “I might black out after a shark nearly eats me, but there’s no way I would forget something like us … whatever. There’s no way I would do it in the first place.”

  “Really? Because it seemed like you were going to do it about thirty minutes ago,” Jesse says softly.

  I think back to the two of us in bed together, to the way my body called out for his. He’s right about that moment and I hate him for it. But he’s not right about this ViSE. “What kind of person tries to use someone’s psychological problems to manipulate her?” I snap. “But that’s how you’re wired, isn’t it? Everyone is just a collection of vulnerabilities.”

  “Not everyone,” Jesse says. “Not you. You really didn’t feel anything … familiar about what happened?”

  “Stop talking.” I refuse to acknowledge the multiple times Jesse touched me and it felt comfortable, like it was meant to happen. Or had happened before. No. That just means he’s good at … touching girls. I can’t even look at him. “If that were me, the card would have ended up with my ViSEs, not Rose’s. Nice try, though. You’re very convincing.”

  “Winter. Don’t leave. Just think about it for a couple minutes.”

  “Screw you, Jesse.” I rip open the door to the room and flip one last glance at him over my shoulder. “Oh, wait. I guess I already did, right?”

  I barely remember the stairs to the lobby, the cab ride to the airport, the ticket counter, the security checkpoint. I spend six hours at the gate waiting for a standby spot to open up, but it’s mostly a blur. The only thing I remember is sitting with my back to the terminal, so I don’t have to see the display of snow globes in the souvenir shop across the corridor. Normally I’d want to examine them all, to pick them up and shake them, to buy the one that called out to me the most. Unfortunately, this is one memory I don’t want captured in glass. This is one trip I just want to forget.

  CHAPTER 35

  When I get off the plane in St. Louis, I follow the trail of people in front of me down one level to the baggage claim area. Snatching my duffel bag from the wide silver carousel, I head for the nearest bathroom. I du
ck inside a stall and pick through my folded clothes until I find my knives. I tuck one in the center pocket of my hoodie and the other into my left boot. At the sink, I splash a little water on my face and pull my hair back into a ponytail. Then I head for the taxi line.

  The wind slices between the terminal and the parking garage, cutting through my clothing, chilling my blood. I raise my hood over my ears and pull my arms inside my sleeves, hugging myself to stay warm. Around me, sagging travelers tuck their chins low against the bitter cold.

  “The Lofts,” I say when I make it to the front of the line, waving off the cabbie’s offer to put my bags in the trunk. But as he pulls away from the curb, I decide I don’t want to go home. Gideon might be waiting for me. Who knows what Jesse told him? He’ll yell at me for leaving Miami on my own when I could be in danger. He’ll put me under house arrest in the penthouse and call it protection.

  My chest aches. I’ve spent years learning to protect myself, trying to make myself invulnerable. And yet I let Jesse close enough to hurt me. He told me himself that he wasn’t a very nice guy, that he did terrible things in the name of getting what he wanted. I guess I thought I was an exception to that.

  Sighing, I sink back against the cracked vinyl seats. I’ve got twenty minutes to figure out where to go, but right now my brain is fixated on one thing, and I can’t find the strength to lock away my feelings.

  Ignoring the talk radio blaring from the speakers, I close my eyes and give myself over to the pain. I think about what it felt like to kiss Jesse, to be held by him. I let the tears fall. How could I have misjudged him so badly? Could he have faked the emotions in our Phantasm ViSE in order to fool me into believing that he cared? Could he have faked everything since the day we first worked together? I don’t want to believe that.

  The cab leaves the highway and turns left onto a two-lane road. Clusters of houses and shops are replaced by trees. We’re skirting the perimeter of the Green. A row of gated streets hides an entire network of sprawling estates.

  “Wait,” I say. “Let me out here.”

  The driver looks at me like I’m crazy. In my jeans and hoodie I definitely don’t look like Green material.