by Olivia Grey
48
Axel
More reserved, more afraid than I’d ever seen her, Frances didn’t allow a very obvious revelation to become her truth. I could understand that with all the hell she’s had to deal with, she’d gotten used to walking on thin ice. Every move she made was one that needed to be calculated, over and over again- until it made sense, not only in her eyes, but in the eyes of everyone looking down on her. And that’s what they were doing- looking down on her. She could have been the talk of the town. Frances goes to college, Frances makes the world proud. Smarts, unfortunately, don’t have the upper hand on gossip.
To be honest, I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe it’s the meds. Maybe I’m really supposed to hate her, stay away from her, want her to pay for what she did. And I guess if I really believed it, if I looked into her eyes and saw what everyone wanted me to see, I would have. But to me, she was just Frances; the girl who went above and beyond to help me even when I didn’t deserve to be helped. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have gotten that scholarship. I wouldn’t have found my way out from under Jemma’s wing. And yes, there’s the probability that I’m just hoping she wasn’t the one who took the shot. But even if she did, hasn’t she paid enough? I got to sleep away a year of my life. I look in the mirror and I see a fresh face; someone who understands that life can be erased within seconds. And if nothing else, that makes me want to live. I want to be able to look at the world, knowing that I can conquer it. I need to be able not only see the one that I love from a distance, but to be able to love her up close. Frances, she’s the one I want and if I have to disprove what has now become a fact, then I’ll do that- as long as it means I get to have Frances in the end.
“Settled,” I tapped her on the leg.
Her head shot up, like she’d been lost in thought and thunder clanged her out of it.
“What’s settled?” she asked.
“We’ll prove that Jemma did it. Shouldn’t be that hard. Together, you and me, we’ll nail her for my, almost murder and then you can feel good about being in love with me.”
“It’s not so simple, Axel,” she said, shaking her head.
All I wanted was for her to smile; to brighten up a bit but she was so torn apart that even faking it seemed too difficult.
“It is that simple,” I assured her. “You said you went to the cops confessing, telling them that you did it, right?” Frances nodded. “Then tell them that you didn’t.”
“Seriously,” she rolled her eyes. “I just walk to the police office and say, hey by the way, I didn’t shoot Axel. They don’t caaaaare. You’re awake, it doesn’t matter. Case closed. Time served.”
“It matters to me. And most importantly, it matters to you. Even if I forgive you. And I do- regardless of the fact that I don’t think you did it- you’re still going to beat yourself up about it.”
“What do you suggest?” she shrugged.
“Well… Because you confessed openly, they didn’t have a reason to look at anyone else- like Jemma, who was standing right there, with a motive a lot bigger than yours. So, if we open their eyes to the possibility, then…”
“I’m sure the newspapers would love to run with that kind of gossip, but not the cops. Plus, with all the pull that her family has in this town…”
“Yeah, you’re right. Then I guess we just have to find her.”
“No,” Frances shook her head fervently, like the very thought of seeing Jemma would render her lifeless. “I…”
“Yes, Frances. We. Find. Jemma. She’ll be so shocked to see us, together and you know what, I don’t doubt that a confession will come spewing out of her soon after. We’ve just got to make sure we have every word captured.”
“Okay,” Frances agreed and a smile- albeit a small one- crept upon her face.
49
Frances
Axel and I had a plan. Really, it was Axel plan but he liked to refer to it as ‘our plan’. One might say that the guilt that clung to every wall inside my stomach, like fat to the bottom of a frying pan, was what made me say yes to him. If the guy you almost kill requests something, the least you can do is comply. For a while, I thought that all I needed was his forgiveness- that and for him to be okay. But the more the sun traded places with the moon, I realized that I needed much more. What that more entailed, I had no idea and so, I was his, to boss around, to do with what he pleased. I would say ‘yes’ to anything he wanted, hoping it’d make me feel a little less like the nothingness I’d become.
So, early the next morning, I set out to follow through with the first part of my plan. Goodbye moving away from Florida, goodbye savings, goodbye extra cash to stash in a shoebox underneath my bed.
I walked, through the sticky kitchen, my flip-flops clamping to the floor with each step. I made my way past the chitter-chatter, the laughter, received a usual bump to the shoulder from Henrietta and stood, panicky in front of Gregg’s office door. I took a deep breath of burger meat and onions, allowing to sizzle in my longs for a few second before releasing it.
“Here goes nothing,” I whispered to myself, rolling my fist into a ball and releasing them on the frail wooden door in front of me.
“It’s open,” I heard Gregg call back lazily.
I pushed the door, revealing an office filled with boxes, a desk stacked with paperwork and a half eaten hotdog pushed to the side on a napkin.
“Hey,” I say to Gregg, my eyes lingering on the hotdog.
I was hungry, but too nervous to eat.
“Frances, love, how great to see you,” he smiled. “Come, have a seat.”
After pushing the door closed behind me, I pulled a metal foldup chair from the side of his room, dusted my hand over it and took a seat.
“It’s nice to see you’re doing okay,” he said, clearing away a stack of papers, perhaps to get a better look at my face.
“Yeah, I’m doing okay,” I replied, “and it looks like you’re keeping yourself really busy so I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Alrighty, go ahead then.”
Gregg plopped his elbows on the table, twisted his neck around a bit and then settled his chin on his palms.
“I’m thinking about taking some time off,” I said apologetically, “just a week or so. Of course, it’s completely up to you if you say yes.”
I think a part of me might have wanted Gregg to deny me leave. Perhaps that’s the reason I was so disappointed when he clapped his hands together and said, “yes. Absolutely, as long as you need.”
Or maybe, it was the fact that I realized that he really didn’t want me there. I knew, deep down, that he’d only agreed to give me a job because of my parents. However, for some reason, I thought that maybe he was indifferent to my being there rather than opposed to it.
“Okay, good, then that’s that,” I said, pushing the chair back.
“Hold on a minute, Frances,” he reached a hand out a hand, his five fingers pointing up. “I don’t want you to think that I’m just okay with you leaving. I mean, I am okay with you leaving but it’s not because I don’t like you. As you know, your parents have been my friends for a very long time. I met you when you were a baby, practically watched you grow up and well… now you’re grown.”
“Yes, I know that,” I agreed.
“So… my reason for being so happy about you taking some time off is because… well… to put it lightly, the others who work here aren’t very fond of you. It’s not your fault. You know, shit happens, as they say. Basically, I understand that this isn’t your environment. You should be at college, becoming a doctor, a lawyer… an astronaut, for crying out loud. So, I’m happy to see that you’re doing something else. Even if it’s sinking your head in a book at home and not coming up for air when it’s done, I just want you to get the motivation you need to do something other than wash dishes.”
“Thank you,” I said, fighting back the urge to wrap my arms around him and moisten his thick neck with fresh tears.
Gregg wa
s the first person, outside of my parents, to show me any compassion ever since things got bad. And even though this gesture is long overdue, I appreciated it, more than he would ever know.
“I mean it, Frances,” he smiled again.
“And I really am grateful to hear you say such nice things.”
“Alrighty. Go figure things out. Show the world that one stupid mistake doesn’t define you.”
50
Axel
Frances had it easy. All she had to do was show up, tell her boss she was sick of washing dishes and walk out. Me, I was in a whole different ballpark and one where I didn’t belong. The Meyer’s mansion, large and majestic, on a lot of land that could house a neighborhood. In a way, it was like the witch’s house. When Halloween rolls around, no matter how desperate you are for candy, that’s the one place you know not to go knocking. But then, I started to date the witch’s daughter- the witchess? Little witch? Witch princess? Whatever witch daughters are called, I started to date to, and the doors of the haunted mansion were opened wide, enabling me to take as much candy as I pleased. But just like Hansel and Gretel, sometimes, no matter how inviting or how appealing a house may be, your demise can be hidden in the very thing you crave. There I stood, before that house that I’d entered time and time again, wondering what to say and how to say it. Everything, no matter what trundled off my tongue, it would be a lie.
Having worked up the courage, I took the necessary strides to the front door, pressed a finger against the doorbell and waited. Ten… fifteen… maybe twenty agonizing seconds went by before the front door glided open.
“Axel Hawk,” Jemma’s mother exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me like we were long lost friends.
I didn’t know her. I’d seen her, offered my hellos, sipped tea with her, but I didn’t know her. I don’t think anyone did, not even Jemma.
“Hi,” I said, releasing my grip.
“Oh dear, don’t stand by the door, come in. Come in. Greta,” she called out, tagging me along, her fingers wrapped around my pinky, “I have a guest. Tea. Coffee. Cakes. Bring us something to munch on.”
I was guided into a black and white living room. The room I knew, the color scheme, however, was unfamiliar.
“I see you’ve redecorated,” I turned to her, carefully sitting down on an oversized leather armchair.
“Oh, you know, girls get bored,” she said, waving her hand around like she was tossing fairy dust. “But let’s not talk about that. How are you? The recovery, going good? Gosh, I’m just so happy to see you’re okay. Jemma was worried sick about you. And to think that her best friend was the one who,” she stuck two fingers out to mimic a gun, “tried to out you. Oh that poor girl. Yes, of course, poor you, as well, because, you know… you’re the one who caught the bullet.”
I opened my mouth to answer one of the many questions, to add to the conversation, but Mrs. Meyers continued, “I just can’t imagine…” she swooped a hand over her forehead, “I can’t even begin to imagine what I would do if she’d turned on Jemma too. Lucky, that’s what Jemma is. But I guess she’s always been lucky, ever since she was worn. A preemie. So tiny. So fragile. And one of the nurses managed to drop her. I had the entire staff fire her.”
“No way,” I said, my eyes wide in disbelief.
“Well… They all denied that such a thing happened. But a mother knows. A mother always knows. She had this red dot on the back of her head and… anyways, I’m talking too much. Making up for missed time, I guess you could say.”
“I quite like hearing you talk,” I smiled, not wanting to be rude.
Jemma’s mom, from what I’d heard, didn’t take too well to rudeness and I didn’t want to watch her façade come down right before me.
“No, really, Axel,” she reached over and patted a jeweled hand down on my knee, “you speak. Tell me how you’ve been.”
“Umm,” I replied, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. I needed this to go quickly, my intention wasn’t to spend an entire day trying to get to know the lady, I just wanted one small bit of information. “I uh… I’m doing good, better every day, according to my doctor.”
“And Frances?” She arched an eyebrow, “have you seen her?”
“God no,” I lied, my chest tightening as the words escaped. “To be honest, I don’t get out that much. Outside of going to physio, I’m home. So, I guess you could call this the first place I’ve been, apart from the hospital and home.”
Greta entered the sitting room, her hands occupied with a large tray. She set it on the glass center table, plucking the items away one by one. A plate in front of me, a plate in front of her master. A cup in front of me, a cup in front of her master. Master, I know. It’s a bad thing to say, but she really was treated like she was owned rather than hired.
“Coffee? Tea? Mr.”
“Axel,” I finished for her. “Not Mr. Just Axel. And I’ll have some tea please.”
“Mr. Hawk,” Mrs. Meyers insisted.
“Sugar?” Greta asked?
“One cube please,” I nodded.
Greta went on to tip coffee into Mrs. Meyers’ cup without question. I imagine she’d done it hundreds of times and knew just the way she liked it, even with her eyes closed.
She said a quick goodbye, gave a smile and then exited the sitting room, her apron flapping against her hips as walked.
“You can’t let them think you’re on the same level as you,” Mrs. Meyers whispered, “that’s why people get disrespected by their maids. They treat them like friends and the next thing you know, they’re doing what friends do: borrowing your clothes, gossiping and frolicking with your husband.”
I smothered a laugh. The paranoia was strong in the Meyers’ household.
“So… Jemma?” I asked. “How’s she doing? I heard she spent a lot of time with me when I was out, pity she wasn’t there when I woke up.”
“Oh Axel, sweetie, that girl loved you to the end of the world and back. It was ruining her, really. Being in that hospital all the time, she started to smell like death. Like death and disinfectant. Not that it’s a bad thing. Had her father, my husband, been admitted, I would be by his side all the time. But you understand, for a young girl like that, it can be damaging. She wouldn’t talk to anyone. Whenever she got home, she’d just play a recording of your voice, over and over again.”
“A recording?” I sat up in my chair, nerve ends reaching for signal.
“Oh yeah. I dunno, some fight you guys had and then… the make up.”
“I don’t understand,” I shook my head.
“It’s a bit strange, really, for a mother to hear her daughter listen to such a thing. But a girl’s got to grieve and I guess that’s how she did it.”
51
Frances
I waited for Axel. Two impatient hours, sitting on a bench outside the Regal Coffee, an umbrella blocking the sun but not the eyes. I had no idea what took him so long, but my mind didn’t cease to give me a few options. Jemma was likely a college student by now but college students do return home. Maybe, she was there when Axel popped up- batting her eyelashes and guiding him in with her long, glowing legs. I could imagine that she had offers he couldn’t refuse. I could imagine how it’d be easy to forget our plan when Jemma’s bed offered not only comfort but also pleasure. Axel’s a guy and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that guys find have two brains and the one at the top isn’t the one always doing the thinking. I tapped my fingers on the table, wishing I hadn’t chewed off the last fingernails. Terrible habit, I know, but anything to buy time, to seem occupied.
Jemma doesn’t have to be the reason he’s not here, I told myself. The alternative, however, wasn’t much brighter. Axel passed out on the sidewalk in front of her house, waiting unconsciously for someone to notice him. My breath caught in my chest and I struggled to inhale and exhale. I couldn’t have a panic attack. Not at the café with so many people sitting around- so many people who wouldn’t help me. Axel was fine, I knew that. Or, wha
t if he did make it into Jemma’s house? What if she was there? What if she finished what she started? Axel could have confronted her, told her the crazy theory he’d come up with and then… it would only take her a second. Her parents are hardly ever home, her neighbors are few and far between. They wouldn’t hear anything if a gun went off. She’d have ample time, space and opportunity to discard of his body. I felt my blood start to boil, my skin flushed red and my palms moistened.
I breathed. Just stop thinking, I tried to console myself, Axel’s fine, you’re fine, everything’s going to be fine. Except, if something did happen, I would have the blame pinned on me again. No one would even think of looking in the other direction. Someone would confess to seeing us together, if not my neighbors then my own parents. My boss would let on that I’d quit only hours before. And his cellphone… his cellphone would have shown phone call after phone call between us. I could already see the headlines on the newspaper, Frances Hilltower Finished What She Started.
“Why are you hiding those beautiful eyes away from me,” a voice came, soothing but surprising.
“Axel,” I sighed. “It took you forever. You could have picked up your phone or something, I was worried.”
