by Jill Cooper
A breath of laughter escaped Jenna’s lips. She gazed into his reflection as he gazed into hers. Jenna pinched his cheek when she wanted to hurt him—really hurt him. But there was nothing she could do except smile.
“C’mon, slow riser.” Jameson took her hands and helped her to her feet. “I made breakfast this morning so you wouldn’t have to.”
“That’s . . . that was kind of you.” Jenna tried to think of something else she could say or do, but couldn’t bring herself to as Jameson rubbed her belly. The look in his eye . . . well it made Jenna feel like his property. She wanted to tell him off, push him away, but couldn’t yet. Not until she found a way out.
Otherwise, they’d take her to the barracks and Jenna didn’t know if she’d even remember after that. The barracks meant nothing for her but death. After they had the baby, they wouldn’t need Jenna anymore.
She had to get out of here.
So, when Rick leaned in to kiss her, Jenna couldn’t do anything, but comply. Her body tensed as his tongue entered her mouth and her stomach rolled, vile with sickness.
The kiss ended abruptly when she clamped down too hard on his tongue. Rick covered his mouth. “Did you bite me?”
“Sorry, honey. Just a small nick, well, I didn’t mean it.”
“That’s all right.” Rick smiled and Jenna thought he might be scared of her. Or at least scared of whoever was in charge, holding his leash. “C’mon, I made your favorite.” Rick offered Jenna his elbow.
And she had no choice but to take it. Her personality, her freedom, she had lost it all. Now Jenna had to buy her time so she could win it all back.
****
The kitchen table was set with white, everyday China and Jenna found a simple breakfast of eggs, toast, and hash browns lying before her. A glass of orange juice rested on a lace doily that Jameson set out—a doily of all things. Jenna couldn’t reconcile this version of Jameson with the truth.
He’s a slimy scoundrel with the penchant of betrayal.
All of this was nothing more than an act, Jenna knew that, but her head was still foggy. “You did all this for me?” Jenna couldn’t help but cradle her belly, feeling protective of her baby—of Dirk’s baby. Months, she had lived with Jameson and he cared for them all the while, knowing it wasn’t his? All the while, planning to turn the baby over to New Haven?
Jenna wouldn’t lose another daughter, especially not to the machine of New Haven. Prison was still prison, no matter how many lace dollies and teacups you threw around it.
“Not just for you.” Jameson reached across the table and stroked her fingers. Jenna gripped her thigh with her other hand so she wouldn’t flinch away at his touch. “Our baby girl needs to eat too, right?”
Jenna laughed and turned her head. Without looking at him, she picked up her fork. “You’re not going to be late for work, are you?”
“Nah.” Jameson was distracted as he poured her a second glass of juice. “Everyone knows the baby will be here soon. I’m afforded a little luxury, after all. Here you go, one tall glass of juice.”
He placed it on the table, close enough, so Jenna could smell it, but she didn’t even want to look at it. The blood sloshed around inside of the glass tumbler and her stomach churned. She didn’t want to drink that—to think New Haven had her hooked on the juice and who knew what else, made her sick.
But if she didn’t drink it, . . . Jameson would suspect something was wrong.
If he didn’t already.
Jenna picked up the glass that was cool to the touch. “Bottom’s up.” She brought it to her lips and took a dainty sip.
“More than that. The baby needs it too, you know.” Jameson nudged her on, a happy glint in his eye, or maybe it was something else? Smugness, a knowledge that he was in control and Jenna wasn’t.
She wanted nothing more than to rip her fingers through his flesh and tear all of it straight off his bones, but she had to bide her time. Jenna took a gulp of juice and wiped her mouth with her napkin to hide her disgust. The taste of cold blood rushed down her throat. “I’m stuffed . . . Rick. I don’t think I can drink anymore right now.”
“The baby is taking up a lot of room.” Jameson smiled. “Eat some breakfast and I’ll call it a success.”
Jenna could do that, but she fumbled with her fork, thanks to her shaking hand. She covered it up by clearing her throat. “And you, what are you going to be doing today?”
“Just work, then rush home to you.” Jameson leered at her across the table. “How about you?”
Jenna shrugged with a mouthful of egg. “Errands around town. I thought I might stop at the cupcake bakery for a little treat.”
“Get enough for me.”
She rushed a sip of orange juice down her gullet and couldn’t keep a playful smile off her lips. “Oh, I always do. I’m going to have a special treat for you tonight too, darling.”
“I can’t wait.” Jameson pushed his chair in as he headed to the front door. He paused for a brief moment to give her a peck on the lips.
Jenna watched him go with relief. When the front door slammed shut, she snarled. “I bet you can’t.”
****
Tiny Bites Cupcakes
New Haven 57
The bakery was the epitome of 1950's small town fun; black and white towels, pastel-pink walls with powder-blue counters. Soft music played in the background, while the glass case gleamed with pastel, cupcake wrappers towering with mountains of buttercream. It was so sweet; Jenna’s teeth hurt just looking at them.
The server in the blue uniform and paper hat was wearing dainty, white gloves and her crimson lips smiled wide. She handed Jenna a pink box wrapped up in string. “Have a nice day, Mrs. Jameson! I hope you enjoy those cupcakes! They might be the last for a while.”
“What do you mean?” Jenna tried not to sneer, scowl, or do anything that she really wanted to do. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t who she was, but she had to pretend. She had to keep it together, or else New Haven would make sure the last of what made her Jenna Morgan, was snuffed out for good.
The server shrugged, but leaned forward. She glanced left and right like someone might be listening, but in New Haven, someone was always listening. “The rations for sugar and flour have gotten smaller and smaller. Then, yesterday Chris said no rations came at all. When he asked the officials about it, they told us to mind our own business.”
Rations were always tight in New Haven, but to have no rations at all? Jenna’s stomach clenched tight. “Just here? Or?”
The server shook her head. “That’s the funny thing, Mrs. Jameson. I’ve heard it’s been everywhere except, well except for where Mr. Jameson works, over at the Bar and Grille.”
What did that mean? Jenna was afraid to even speculate. “Things will bounce back.”
The server nodded and her curls bounced. “They always do. You’re right about that!”
Jenna started her way over to the door and her mind flashed for a moment to the last time she was in that bakery. Jameson was there, helping her pick out cupcakes for BINGO night at the grand hall church they attended.
Jenna was indecisive, glancing from vanilla cupcakes to chocolate cupcakes and back again. Her? Unable to make a decision about cupcakes? They really had stripped everything away that made her who she was. They all looked so delicious, she couldn’t make a simple decision.
Rick leaned in, ever the good husband, his hands running down her arms and along her back. She still wasn’t that pregnant yet, and only a small belly pushed out her dress, but he rested his hands on it as if he owned her. “Why don’t we just get two of everything?”
“You’d do that for me?” Jenna asked, the red hat tilting on her head and the black veil delicately covering her eyes. It covered up the bruises that New Haven left on her temples that hadn’t yet healed, as well.
Her husband just smiled as he kissed her cheek. “I’d do anything for you, baby.”
Jenna shuddered as the image faded. Still standing in the
bakery, she put her hand on the glass door and glanced over her shoulder. Two glistenings sat at the back by the window, sharing a milkshake and holding hands.
Glistenings. She was bagged and tagged like an animal, wasn’t that what she always said? Except now, Jenna was the animal, and she was the one who needed to find a way out of this glass-boxed zoo. The ticking time bomb in her belly was telling her she needed to do it soon. Things were getting cramped, uncomfortable. Soon Jenna would be at New Haven’s mercy.
And she couldn’t have that.
Jenna slid the cupcakes into the passenger’s seat of her car before she slid behind the wheel. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but there was still some room for her swollen frame. She made a show of opening the cupcake box and taking a deep breath. No matter what she thought of glistenings, the cupcakes did smell divine; fresh and sugary with that hint of sweetness, only a real bakery could achieve.
She smeared her finger through the fluffy, sugar substance and sucked it off her finger. The dainty sugar particles danced across her tongue, but it was tasteless grit. “Too good,” Jenna said aloud as her eyes trained outside the window. Straight ahead was the tunnel that led into the New Haven barracks.
It was nothing special. The land was sloped, so the tunnel was covered up with lush grass and pink, and purple paisley’s growing on either side. Two guards in 1950's style uniforms stood to attention in their rounded bolder helmets. Every two minutes they paced and traded positions, but that was it.
No one else appeared to be around. There were no squad cars, or unmarked vehicles. No one loitering about that appeared official in any capacity. Just the two guards, staring straight ahead—fatigued, bored. Probably off their game from having been on duty so long.
It wouldn’t be out of the question that Jenna could knock them both out, steal their ID passes, and get into the tunnel. Getting out, was another question; but one thing at a time. First goal was getting to the tunnel in the first place. It was the only way to get out.
Jenna gripped the steering wheel and started the engine back up. She couldn’t loiter around too much. Whoever was watching her might get suspicious if she spent too much time in her car, and there was always someone watching.
Recon was done, now Jenna knew what she needed to do.
But first, she needed to get her hands on a weapon.
****
Leftovers wrapped and now warming in the oven, Jenna started her search of the home.
Every drawer, every room, she searched for a gun, but so far it had turned up empty. Jenna tore through the upstairs and then the downstairs. She checked the blue sofa cushions and inside the flowerpots displayed in the windows.
Sighing with her hands on her wide hips, Jenna glanced around and spotted Jameson’s study. Why hadn’t she checked there before?
You’ve gone soft. You’re not Jenna Morgan anymore.
Racing inside, she turned the light on. The study had thick, brown paneling and a desk in the center of the room, with a rotary phone and a typewriter. She slid into the seat and tried the drawers. One was stuffed full of papers, but the other was locked—locked. This was at least promising.
Jenna took a bobby pin from her hair when a picture of herself and Jameson caught her attention. Their hair was blowing and her ‘husband’s’ gleaming, white teeth showed in the photo. His smile was relaxed and sincere, but her eyes were muted—appearing depressed and drugged.
Still, Jenna picked up the photo and her mind flashed to Dirk. Her real husband, but was he even looking for her? Jenna knew he’d never give up on her and if he hadn’t come, if he wasn’t there . . . she didn’t want to think about what that meant for him.
Dead? Or being held against his will too? Maybe somewhere in New Haven 57, he sat at a desk trying to piece together what happened to her. If only they could find each other and make their way out of this mess.
Time to pull herself together, Jenna placed the picture frame back and used her bobby pin to unlock the drawer. It snapped open easily, it seemed that she hadn’t lost her touch, even if she had been out of commission for six months.
Inside the drawer, there it was. The gun. She was going to need that to break out of New Haven tonight. Slipping it into her purse, Jenna locked the drawer back up. She was antsy to make her move, but couldn’t afford to yet. Eleven pm was when New Haven went on a graveyard shift and that was her small window of opportunity.
She didn’t know if she’d make it out, being so pregnant and unwieldy, but Jenna had to try. A life inside New Haven wasn’t the one her baby deserved; if New Haven let them live at all.
Pain inside her abdomen made Jenna pause. She sucked in her breath and grabbed the armrest of the chair, blowing out slowly.
Not yet, baby. Not yet. We need to get out first. Please . . .
The smell of something burning caught her attention. “Not the casserole!” Jenna leaped; well, as well as she could leap in her advanced condition, and hurried to the kitchen, her purse over her shoulder. The pressure in her womb was getting worse. There was always a toe sticking under her ribs and the fast walk made her waddle just enough to make Jenna feel self-conscious that she was not the fighter she normally was.
No longer spry, no longer able to push her body to the max, because let’s face it, it already was. Just getting in and out of bed . . . how the hell was she going to get out of this one?
Pulling the oven open, the kitchen filled with smoke. Jenna sighed and fanned the room with her bright, yellow oven mitts. “Oh, Nuts,” Jenna whispered and pulled the smoking casserole dish from the oven.
“For Pete’s sake, doesn’t this take the cake?” Jenna said loudly. She was always having to perform, always having to keep the show going. New Haven could see anything, anytime. Jenna had to keep playing the part, even when she didn’t want to, but how long could she keep it up?
How long could she stomach to keep it up?
The front door slammed. “Honey, I’m home!”
“I’m in here!” Jenna didn’t miss a beat, her heart sinking into despair that the act was just starting for the night. What if Jameson wanted . . . she was nearly nine months pregnant, could she fight off his advances? Or would Jenna have no recourse but to go along with it?
She shuddered violently, her mind ticking through all the times they’d made love. All the times Jenna had . . . her mouth filled with bile and she swallowed the burning liquid back.
“It’s a wonder the smoke detector hasn’t gone off yet.” Her words sounded flat.
Jameson slid his briefcase onto the counter and sighed as he stood beside her. “Well, I guess I know what isn’t for dinner.”
“I’m sorry.” Jenna did her best to sound meek, humble. “I wanted it to be nice for you. I know tuna casserole is one of your favorites.” Was that true? Jenna didn’t even know, but the words tumbled out, so she guessed they must have been.
“It’s okay, hon. you tried.” Jameson rubbed her shoulders. “We knew I didn’t marry you for your cooking.”
When he nuzzled the top of her head, Jenna went rigid. “I’m no Joan Clever, that’s for sure.” She sucked in her breath and wasn’t sure if she should have said that. Did Glistenings still watch Leave it to Beaver re-runs? She felt so unsure of herself in this position, Jenna didn’t know what was the best thing to say and do.
But the smile on Jameson’s face put her at ease. “I’ll order us a pizza if you’ll make some of that peach iced tea you like so much.”
The mix in the container? Jenna wouldn’t be able to mess that up. “I can do that.” She smiled and adjusted her earrings as she headed to the counter.
“Good,” Jameson lifted up the receiver, “then rest your feet, babe, and I’ll take care of the rest. We can’t have you wearing yourself out before the baby comes.”
Wasn’t that the truth?
“You going somewhere, babe?” Jameson asked.
How did he know? How did he? Jenna glanced down and realized she was clutching her purse tight
. “Oh, no. I just thought . . . pizza might be a good idea too. But, if you’re going to get it . . .”
“We always were on the same wave length.” Jameson grinned.
Hardly, Jenna gently gritted her teeth. “Well, I’m going to go use the restroom. Be right back.” She didn’t wait for his answer, but quickly escaped through the living room and into the small hall.
The blue powder room was her secret garden. Jenna slid her back against the locked door and counted to ten. She could do this . . . she could do anything to get out of New Haven—anything—even pretend to love a slime ball like Rick Jameson.
*****
Incredibly nervous, Jenna waited outside for the pizza delivery truck.
Outside, the air was cool and the sun began to set. The swing creaked as Jenna sat on it, lifting her feet, allowing herself to rock slightly. Across the street, Jenna’s eyes caught sight of the neighbors just returning home, a small, little girl between them. Her hair done up in pigtail braids. Happy, bright and smiling.
But it didn’t hide the fact they wore harnesses, or that they were living under a microscope.
Jenna couldn’t allow herself to forget, or be further deceived. Somewhere, everyone was watching. A camera on an electrical pole, a car coasting by, with a camera attached to its windshield. Even, Jenna thought as she gazed down at her flowerbeds, the blooming of roses that she had tended to with such love.
How could Jenna allow this all to happen? Hadn’t she been strong? One of the toughest girls, that’s what her mother always said. But she was no different than any other glistening. Under torture, duress, Jenna believed what they wanted her to. She forgot herself, became complacent, and one of those that she despised so much. Once upon a time, Jenna mocked glistenings, for falling for the simple lies and the simple life New Haven provided.
And now? Jenna was one of them. How could she get herself out of this situation, if she couldn’t even trust her own judgment?
