by Olivia Grey
I nodded, not feeling the need to stay much more. Axel continued, going on and on about how his mom will love me, how she’s just confused right now. I believed him; that if and only if, I were exempt from the guilt of hurting Axel, she’d warm up to me. But that was a long shot. The video proved that Jemma had a different motive with the threesome, but it didn’t mean she tried to murder Axel.
It’s horrible, I know, to wish something bad on someone. But how horrible is it, if you’re only wishing these things to save yourself. The person, I think, that you’re hoping to see sink, has a lot to do with the degree of wrong you’re doing. Jemma, she could handle the heat, she’d already had her time cooking up steam in the kitchen. Had it been anyone else in the world, I think I’d even consider the option. It could be an accident, sure, like I’d believed it to be. But if Jemma had been the one to shoot Axel, then everything she did before was calculated.
I looked over to see that Axel was snoozing, his head rested on the window.
“We’re here,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder.
58
Axel
Frances drove slowly, onto the campus of the great Georgia Tech. Students, some older than us and some the same age, wandered around, carrying backpacks, textbooks and smiles as wide as a rainbow.
“This will be us soon,” I turned to her.
She shrugged, meagerly, but I could tell that she was warming up to the idea of finally being able to fulfil her dreams. It was kind of crazy to think that this- college- is what started it all. Our desires to be great in life can lead us down regret ridden paths and it’s no secret that mine led me to Jemma but it also led me to Frances and for that, I was thankful.
Like ants in a pool, we swam through swarms of students, drowning in the chaos but struggling to keep our heads above the water. We were on a mission and failure would not be accepted. Frances was in front of me, pushing a shoulder against the glass door. I could see it- her being here, or in a familiar setting. Even without the backpack, she already fit in.
“I think it’s this way,” she glanced over her shoulder.
In front of us, a sign read, Registrar’s Office. Frances knocked on the door and not long after, a stout lady swung it open. Her hair was short, cut in a bob, her eyes beany but bulged out by spectacles that looked like a magnifying glass.
“Hi guys,” she chirped. “What can I do for you today.”
She thought we were students, that much was obvious.
“Um…we’re looking for our friend,” Frances said. “She’s been here for about a year and a half and hasn’t been home for the holidays so we thought…you know… that maybe we’d pay her a visit.”
“How sweet of you,” she smiled. “Come right in and have a seat.”
Frances pulled out a chair for herself, pushing the other one toward me.
“Now,” the lady said, tapping her fingers on her keyboard, “what’s your friend’s name?”
“Jemma,” Frances said.
“Jemma Meyers,” I added.
“Jemma Meyers,” the lady repeated, typing one letter at a time. “It’ll just take a minute.” She lowered her glasses and smiled at us. “I’ll have to get someone to escort you to the dorms, hopefully she’ll be there. Oh and you’ll need a visitors pass. I’ll take care of that now.”
She opened her drawer and pulled out two pins that read visitor on the front and placed it beside the keyboard.
“Oh lordy,” she said, staring at her computer screen. “Looks like your friend has dropped out.”
“Dropped out!” Frances exclaimed, her jaw dropped wide.
“Yeah, left over a year ago.”
“Are you sure?” Frances asked, leaning herself over the desk.
“Very sure,” the lady said.
Frances was about to say something when I cut her off.
“Sorry for wasting your time,” I read the sign in front of her desk, “Mrs. Stewart. It’s just that we drove all the way from Florida, so it’s kinda disappointing that she’s not here.”
“Give her parents a call, why don’t you. Students do this all the time. Can’t handle the pressure and decide to backpack through Europe or something before they return to college. But whatever is up with your friend, I’m sure she’ll figure things out.”
“Backpack through Europe,” Frances grumbled under her breath.
“Again, thank you,” I said, pushing my chair back and heading to the door.
Frances followed, hesitantly, confused.
“I just don’t get it,” she said once we were in the hallway. “How can she just drop out of college?”
“I dunno, Frances. Maybe she partied too much. Her grades got shitty. She… I dunno.”
“Her parents would pay for her to get good grades.”
“They probably don’t have much pull here.”
Frances was shaking her head constantly now, the way a child shakes a snow globe.
“We have to find her,” Frances said, stomping her foot on the ground. “We just have to. If she really did… you know… then we have to find her. I can’t just live my life thinking.”
“It’s okay,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
We got back to the parking lot where, rather than entering the car, Frances took a seat on the hood.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” I said, running a hand through her hair.
“It’s so chaotic,” she replied, “that it’s almost soothing. Like there’s so much to look at that my brain can’t go crazy with all the other things that are on my mind.”
I nodded.
59
Frances
There was some form of commotion, a girl running and pushing her way through the crowds. It caught my attention for a while and I watched as she ran, toward us- toward the parking lot. She looked like me, just shorter, plumper- or at least plumper than I am now. Her hair was messy, the kind of messy that I knew all about. I could see myself as her, wanting to be early for each class and panicking when I thought I wouldn’t make it before time. I belonged in college, absorbing knowledge and making new friends- new experiences. The girl was through the crowd now and so close to us that I could hear her panting. Another thing we had in common- out of shape. I looked at her and smiled and she smiled back. Friendly. College was a friendly place, unlike high school.
“Hi,” she said, stopping in front of us.
She really did look like me.
“Hey,” Axel offered, his hands busy with his cellphone.
“Frances,” she said, reaching out a hand and I froze.
Her name couldn’t be Frances too. Things like this just don’t happen. I know that some people believe that somewhere in the world, there’s another them- not me. I was the only me, except…
“You’re name’s Frances,” I said, taking her hand.
I heard Axel chuckle. Obviously he recognized the oddity.
“No. No. I’m Alexis. Your name’s Frances, right?”
“Um…”
“Yeah, this is Frances,” Axel answered for me.
“It’s strange, I get it. Random girl walks up to you, calls you by her name.” She lent a hand to the hood of my car and sucked in a breath. “Long run. Sorry. Yeah, it’s weird but not that weird. Such a pleasure to meet you, though I kinda feel like I already know you.”
I was dreaming. I had to be dreaming.
Alexis continued. “Jemma, she’s my best friend. I guess, second best friend if I count you. She told me all about you and…” she looked at Axel, “you must be the Frances’ boyfriend.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “I’m.”
“Axel,” she chirped, “heard all about you too. So… what are you guys doing here?”
I couldn’t believe it. This girl looked just like me and not only that, she was Jemma’s best friend. Something was going on; something that I could, by no means, wrap my head around. I looked up, making sure that the sky was still above me; that the earth di
dn’t just transform into something unrecognizable.
Axel answered, “we came looking for Jemma, but…”
“Yup, you’re about a year late,” she laughed. “No…” she shook her head. “It’s not funny. I don’t mean to smile, I’m just happy to meet you guys.”
“What are we late for?” I chipped in.
“Jemma left. Over a year ago.”
“Why!?”
“It’s not my place to say,” Alexis sunk her lips into a frown. “But I know where she is. At least I think she’s still there. It’s been so long since I’ve heard from her. I guess a part of me was hoping that you guys came with news. I miss her, I really do.”
“Unfortunately we’re a lot more out of the loop than you are,” Axel added.
“Yeah. I guess so. Can’t believe she didn’t contact you guys though. She was always taking about you guys, excited for you, with the wedding and all.”
“Wedding!?” I gasped.
“Yeah. You guys got married. Last summer. Can’t remember what she said. But,” Alexis leaned into my ear, “she did say you were the most beautiful bride to ever.”
“Jemma Meyers?” I asked. “Jemma Meyers told you that?”
“Yes,” Alexis arched an eyebrow in confusion.
I could hear Axel giggling in the background. Now it could be for many reasons. The fact that this girl looked just like me, the fact that she thought she knew us, the fact that she thought we were married.
“Jemma never shuts up about you guys.”
“Jemma’s great,” Axel added, with sarcasm I could easily decipher. Alexis didn’t catch on.
“Isn’t she. She like… doesn’t even know how pretty she is, how smart she is… Can you imagine, once…she even said she wished she had my body. Like, seriously?”
I wanted to shake my head, fast and hard. I wanted Axel to clamp a section on my arm and squeeze. Now, I knew Jemma, I just didn’t know the Jemma she was talking about. I guess…in a sense, it’s the same Jemma I would have described when I was smitten with her acceptance. But what was with all the lies.
“Well, Alexis,” Axel spoke up, hoping from the hood of the car, “Frances and I have got to get going, we need to make it back to Florida before tomorrow.”
“Jemma’s address,” I interrupted. “You said you knew it.”
“I suspect,” Alexis said, dropping one strap from her backpack and pulling the bulky part to the front.
“Here,” she reached her hand out, releasing the paper she’s scribbled on into my grasp.
“Thank you so much,” I smiled.
Unexpectedly, I was wrapped in her arms. She hugged me like she’d know me for hundreds of years and I hugged her like I had no idea what was going on… because I didn’t.
“You guys get home safely and uh… Frances, I wrote my number on the paper too. Send me a text message, lemmi know how Jemma’s doing if you find her, okay?”
“Absolutely,” I nodded.
“I’m so happy I got to meet you guys,” she looked from me to Axel- who was now sitting in the passenger seat, one leg thrown clumsily out the door. “I just wish,” she pouted, “that we could grab some coffee… sneak a beer… Get to know each other a little better.”
I nodded. “I’m happy this happened too,” I smiled.
Was I really happy I met her? Definitely. The fact that we showed up to find that Jemma was college-less made me angry. The registrar lady could have been right and that would have made me even angrier. A Jemma who was backpacking around Europe wasn’t a Jemma Axel or I would be able to find anytime soon. But that Jemma was a liar, the one who tried to recreate her life in Florida with a girl who looked just like me- she was a lot easier to find (thanks to the girl who looked like me!). I didn’t want to think of the reason she did it or the scars she left Alexis to hideaway. Undoubtedly, there were things that girl would never figure out; not through all the brainwashing that Jemma was known for.
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to kick myself for not serving Alexis a dose of reality. She deserved to know. If I was her- knowing what I know now- I would want someone to tell me. I would want someone to pry my eyes open and shine a beam of reality into them.
Turning back wasn’t an option but I did have Alexis’ number. I made a mental note to send her a detailed text message once we’d found Jemma- once we’d put our own ghosts to rest.
60
Axel
There’s one thing that I’ve always loved about Jemma. I know… I know… my heart didn’t like the words love and Jemma being thrown in the same sentence either. But the thing about her that never ceases to amaze me is the fact that she never ceases to amaze me. A Frances look-alike, seriously? Out of the thousands and thousands of boys and girls, men and women, who attend Georgia Tech, it couldn’t just be a coincidence that Jemma found herself a Frances. And let’s not forget the part about Frances and me getting married. Stories… Jemma knew how to tell a story but most of all, Jemma knew how to lie. Seeing that girl’s face gave me such a funny feeling- like I was watching someone walk their way into a lion’s nest and covering my mouth rather than yelling at them to stop. Talking and talking, about things she thought she knew- repeated one lie after the other to the people those lies were about. I just wonder, in my wedding to Frances, was Jemma the maid of honor? Did she brush Frances hair and help her to pick out a dress.
“What are you laughing about,” Frances interrupted my thought.
I couldn’t contain myself. I was banging my hands against the dashboard, kicking my feet as far as they could go. My abs were tight, my laugh was congested in a squeal.
“Something really tickled you, huh?” Frances rolled her eyes.
“She…” I tried
“Who?”
“She…”
“Axel!”
“She thought we… she… she thought we were married,” I finally spat out.
“Ah,” Frances chuckled, obviously not finding as much humor in the situation as I did. “I can only imagine the lies she fed that girl. And to think that she made it seem like we were all friends. Like we were just one happy group of friends.”
“She’s crazy… Sooooo, crazy.”
“Bat shit crazy. That girl needs to get her head checked, honestly. And did you notice how much that girl looks like me. Really now? Does she have a vendetta against someone who looks like me or is it just me? I don’t get it. I really don’t.”
“I’d probably kiss her and think it was you,” I joked.
“You would not,” Frances lowered her eyebrows at me.
“I would not,” I admitted. “But it’s uncanny how much she looks like you.”
“No. No. That’s not the strange part. It’s the fact that Jemma sought her out that’s strange. I’m sure there are many girls that look like me, but…”
“There’s only one you,” I completed her statement, giving her hand a squeeze.
I knew that’s not what she’d planned on saying but I just wanted to see a hint of a smile reach her face. She smiled, so I’d count that as a success.
“Maybe it’s a bad idea going to see her,” Frances said.
“Are you scared?”
“Scared, psshh… No. I’ve done a lot scarier things than... Anyways. No, I’m not scared.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I feel like… I might smack her,” Frances laughed.
“Well that’s not a good reason to avoid her. Jemma deserves to be smacked and I’m a guy, so, you know… It’s not like I can do it.”
“I won’t,” she shook her head. “But I might yell or maybe not. I dunno. I’m not sure how good our plan is. Maybe she won’t even confess and then we’re left with nothing.”
“Oh, trust me, the minute the both of us show up… together, she’s gonna crap her pants. The verbal diarrhea will indisputably come after.”
“Jemma’s good at keeping secrets,” Axel warned, “especially her own.”
“Frances,” I
said sternly. “Jemma hurt me. I know she did and I will make sure that she admits it.”
Frances drove some more, through a bad neighborhood and then a good one, down one highway and then up another. Jemma didn’t live close to campus. Maybe in the short time she was there, she managed to create a ghost that needed to run away from too. That was none of my business and I didn’t care how far away she moved, I just knew I needed to stop her. Of course, there were other dilemmas, hiding between the unwritten tales of Jemma’s disappearance. She could have moved from the address we had, she could have been innocent (if only of the one thing I accused her of), she could be ruthless.
“I think we’re almost there,” Frances muttered, more to herself than to me.
I could see the tiny bubbles of nervous sweat forming on her forehead and I understood why she hadn’t said a word to me in almost an hour. I watched her, for a while, taking in our surroundings, trying to pretend like she wasn’t bothered. Jemma was her kryptonite and the more she drove, the closer she brought herself to that poison.
Frances slowed the car and checked the map on her phone before veering into a tiny, unlikely neighborhood. I would have told her that she missed a turn or perhaps turned before her actual turn, but she was still scouring the directions with confused eyes. She looked, nodded, tapped, nodded, checked a sign, nodded.
“Yeah… Yeah… Yeah…” she agreed with herself, shrugging her shoulders as she stepped on the gas.
For the most part, the streets were empty and I wondered if it was solely because of the time of day or primarily because of the neighborhood. Jemma didn’t live where we were. Frances didn’t know it, but I did. The streets went from grimmer to grimmest, but soon, they’d pick up the necessary charm. There was barbed wire and broken glass, trash and untamed lawns. The cars we saw were broken down, burned or exposing non-existent engines. The people we spotted were just as grim as the neighborhood. Some lounged around in front yards with tied up pitbulls and others stumbled around like they’d had one too many somethings (not just drinks).
