by Olivia Grey
“You haven’t asked a question yet,” I snapped. The sound of my voice was snappy, but somewhere, deep deep down inside, I just wanted to hug her; to throw my hands around her and to tell her to try with all her might to be a good mom; to raise a kid so unlike her that the universe would furrow an eyebrow at the possibility.
64
Axel
Whatever question Jemma was going to ask, Frances scared it away from her lips. I can’t deny that I wanted to hear it. I also can’t deny that I was buying this new and- dare I say- improved Jemma. It wasn’t the pregnancy either. Sure, seeing her with a belly as round as a basketball was a surprise that shocked each speck of a plan right out of my head but that’s not what did it for me. The voice, the purity, the sadness. Those who know pain; those who have been hurt by someone know what it’s like to hate. I was hurt by Jemma and I hated Jemma- past tense. Now, standing here that hate turned into pity. I’ve seen lots of pregnant women, walking around the mall, burying their faces in ice cream at the local creamery, going for jogs in my neighborhood. There was always one common denominator when it came to them, a smile. Even the sweaty ones -the ones who were urging their bodies to stay in shape, bouncing their tummies up and down with each step- they smiled. Maybe not with their lips that were parted in an O, sucking in breath after breath, but they smiled with their eyes. Jemma, she was hurting. And how could I, how could anyone enforce any kind of misdemeanor on someone in her position? This, from what I’ve heard, having life grow inside of you, it’s one of the most precious moments in a person’s life. It’s what gives women the edge over men and she wasn’t taking that edge.
Frances stared her up and then down and then up again, wanting to find it in her to muster up the same hate she had before. She huffed, shook her head and then started, “she needs to pay for what she’s done. Axel, this is what we decided, isn’t it? She needs to pay.”
“I do,” Jemma answered before my mouth could form a single word. “I need to and in a sense, I already am. You have no idea what it’s like…”
“No, you have no idea what it’s like, Jemma. Everyone hates me. Everyone thinks I’m some kind of murderer.”
“But you two are…”
“Yeah, we’re together,” I answered, not wanting Frances to deny our relationship. We weren’t together together, at least not as together as I wanted to be, but still, she didn’t need to deny us.
“And everyone hates me for it. You know the last thing I had to deal with before coming here? His mom, barking down my throat about how much of a horrible person I am. I had to deal with myself thinking that maybe I am a horrible person, maybe I was the one to pull the trigger.”
“I’m sorry,” Jemma started, her voice breaking to bits. “This is what I wanted, it’s what I intended and I won’t sit here and deny that. And that, Frances,” her tears were freefalling now, “is what a horrible person is. You’re right, from day one, I never wanted to be your friend, I just wanted Axel gone. He knew too much and I… I just couldn’t have someone knowing that about me.”
I could see in Frances’ face that she still had no idea what kind of a truckload was resting so heavily on Jemma. Maybe my own face didn’t show an expression very different from Frances’, after all, the reason had just been supplied by the distributor and I felt, at least somewhat, that all my questions had been answered.
“That’s the problem with people like you. You’re selfish enough to think some stupid damper on your life is worth more than someone else’s life. Well it’s not Jemma. It really isn’t. All I wanted was to be your friend; to get a smidgen of the attention that you had.”
“And I’m sorry,” Jemma said for the millionth time. “I know that now. I know how little everything in high school mattered. I know how little my family,” family she said with a choke as though the word got stuck in her throat- hard to spit out. “Do you still have that, Frances? A family, who loves you? Who would fight for you til the end?” Frances nodded. “Well, I don’t,” Jemma sniffed. “I don’t have that. I’m not trying to steal whatever anger you came here with. I’m not trying to… I dunno… make you feel sorry for me. Or maybe I am. But even through everything you went through, you had people who love you and I want that. I want… I just… I want someone to love me.” She dropped her head in her hands, coughing and crying, sniffling and moaning. “I don’t have that. Money, that’s all my family cares about. Money and reputation. I told them, you know… that I was the one who… the one who hurt Axel. And you know what they said?”
Frances’ eyes were wet now and I could feel the pressure building behind my own. I looked down, unable and unwilling to lock eyes with either Jemma or Frances.
“They said,” Jemma proceeded with a sigh, “they told me that if I admitted it to anyone other than them, they’d disown me. You know what it’s like not to have a family...” she paused, shook her head “well, I didn’t want to find out. And look at me now,” she threw her hands in the air. “Didn’t matter that I did what they wanted and kept my mouth shut because look at me now.” We both looked at her, Frances and I. Jemma tried to force her face into a smile. Her lips twitched and then the waterworks started. “Funny, I know. Ironic even. I did what it took to keep my family and I still lost them. Karma? Maybe. Maybe definitely, but then again, what’s their karma. Did you know, Frances, that they’ve been pawning me off. Yup,” she nodded. “Ever since I had more than just nipples on my chest, they’ve had me opening my legs to my uncle. That’s how they stay rich. Family secret,” she wheezed. “Family secrets. Fucking family secrets. My uncle, he showed up to the university. He took me there and you just have no idea how that felt, to be so vulnerable, so obedient. And I hated myself for not being able to say ‘no’. I was so scared and hurt and dirty... filthy. “
Frances was running her hands over her eyes, against her cheeks and finally on the back of her jeans. There were a couple of lumps developing in my own throat. I wasn’t usually a crier. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been a crier. Not when I was a baby. Not during my toddler stages. Never. But there were times when something would really hit the wrong nerve and I’d feel that pressure (the one only crying could release), but I’d push past it. I was pushing while listening to Jemma, except, the more I pushed, the weaker I felt. A losing battle. A tear slipped from my eyes as she continued to speak and I turned my head away, so no one could see it.
“It was too much,” she said, pushing herself out of the floral couch. She was standing face to face with Frances, sharing breaths. “I found another you. Alexis, she looks just like you and I… I had a repeat. I got a do over, can you imagine that?” She reached out, a hand gripping Frances’ hand. Frances let her take it, squeeze it in between hers. “I treated her well, so well. I was friends with her the way I should have been friends with you. I was open with her and I wanted to do better, to be a better person. I did charity work, lots of it, that’s where I met…” She rubbed her stomach. “He was poor but so rich at the same time. And something snapped in me. Money doesn’t make you. He made me understand that. I cashed out what I could from my savings account, told my family where to shove it and I bought this place. It isn’t much, but it’s a start. I’m okay here. I think I’m okay here. I have to be okay here. I get to be normal here, so I’ll be okay. I will.”
She pulled Frances in for a hug and I watched as Frances’ entire body filled with tension.
“I forgive you,” Frances muttered, her hands not making their way to Jemma”s back, but instead, pushing Jemma away. “We’ll never be friends,” she said matter-of-factly, “but I forgive you.”
It was time. The final words were spoken and we were on our way out the door, everyone in tears. Frances didn’t look back once, fearing something I wasn’t certain of. Jemma, she was right behind us. I could hear her footsteps, feel her breath reaching its way to my neck.
“Axel,” she called out, “can I ask you something.”
I stopped. Frances stopped but didn’t turn arou
nd.
“Yes,” I nodded.
“Do you think anyone will ever love me like that? The way you love Frances?”
“I… I think it starts with loving yourself and you seem like you’re on your way there.”
“Be a great mom,” Frances said, her body back still turned to us. “Do that for me. For Axel. Be a great mom and you’ll never have to worry about love because your child will never forget to love you.”
“I’ll never forget to love you,” came a voice from behind us- the same voice that had told us Jemma wasn’t there.
There was a peace that came over all of us that night. Justice didn’t need to be served because forgiveness is so much great; so much more powerful. And we, Frances, Jemma and I, we forgave each other, we forgave ourselves. The past was the past and we left it there.
Forgive but never forget because the mistakes you’ve made need to be remembered in order to avoid repetition.
THE END
