by A.R. Rivera
48
-What Happened
A knock sounded at the door. Avery hadn't been in the room for more than a few seconds. She was still in her clingy clothes, wet from her night swim in the motel pool.
She opened the door minutely and saw Band Chick-Angelica.
"Hey," Angelica said with her perfect lips, "it's getting way too naked over there. You mind if I crash in here?"
"Things not working out with Andrew? And don't you have a room?"
A smirk perked up one side of her mouth. "He's playing hard to get, I guess. I have my own room, but not at this shithole and I drank too much to consider driving."
Avery shook her head, unsympathetically noting the guitarists wobble. "I got a headache. A real bad one."
Angelica's shoulders dropped. "Fuck it. Guess I'll just go pass out in my car."
"Well, I took some pain reliever. Probably come back in about an hour?"
Angelica smiled, "Maybe I can hold out a little longer. Feel better."
Avery closed the door, aiming to change out of her wet clothes. She was just slipping into a dry set when another knock sounded. This time, it was louder and immediately irritated her. She wasn't expecting anyone and she wanted to keep the noise to a minimum to avoid waking Angel.
"Just a second," she whisper-yelled at the door and ripped her dry shorts up the rest of the way.
Jake was standing outside. His arms were crossed and he wasn't smiling. Avery rolled her eyes. She could never take mild-mannered Jake seriously when he tried to look angry. It just didn't work with mellow demeanor.
"Keep your voice down." She mouthed, setting a finger over her lips.
"Why are you whispering?"
"Because I have to, Jake."
He tilted his head to one side. "Headache?"
Avery nodded.
"Convenient." Jake walked inside and sat on the bed, leaning up against the headboard. "You know," he kept his voice low, "I've got a couple things I need to talk about."
"Like what?"
"Heavy stuff. Like something Andrew said to me this morning." His eyes met hers and something flashed in them. "We never talked about when you broke the news to Deanna, either. I know it's not the best time . . ." His voice trailed off, but his gaze was sharp.
"Perfect." Avery snapped, the hair at the back of her neck straightening with the mention of the Foster. "Let's have a deep conversation." Her words gave off that perfect sarcasm she employed as she turned to face Jake with her legs folded. Face to face, both sitting on the bed.
"First: Andrew said he saw you groping two guys from Anemic Psychos."
Avery put up a hand, stopping him. "They did it to me first. It was a revenge grope."
Jake sighed, nodding. "I heard the same from them. But . . ."
"Spit it out, Jake."
"It pisses me off that you'd do that. You're my girlfriend. You should fucking act like it." He met her gaze, a muscle in his clenched jaw twitched. "Andrew also told me he saw you in town a while back."
Avery knew when Jake said town it meant the larger of the two; Eager, not Carlisle.
"Well, isn't Andrew full of useful information? I can see how that might bug you." Jake scowled, but Avery didn't care. "See, I have this little thing called free will and sometimes I use it to go into town."
"He said you were walking into that abortion clinic down on Cactus Street." The hard look in Jakes' eyes faltered. "I told him he was crazy, that you might do crazy stuff sometimes, but you wouldn't do that. I didn't tell him about how you can't have kids. That's not his business. Besides, if something like that ever happened you would tell me."
Avery kept her eyes down, wondering how to handle this. Could she sweep it under the rug? Keep it from Angel in the long run?
"Right?" Jake asked, his voice rising. "You would tell me if I . . . if you were . . . Right? Normally, I wouldn't even ask, but you've been acting really weird, lately. More weird than usual. But I told Andrew that he was wrong." He paused again. And then carried on, "You would never do that to me. He's wrong. Isn't he?"
Avery shrugged, deciding on the fly to roll with the punches. He'd already promised to marry Angel, there had to be some security in that. "I might have been there."
Suddenly, Jake shot up from the bed. His hazel eyes turned black as he stared down at her. "Getting a . . . ?"
She crossed her arms.
"But-but I thought . . . how? You were?"
"Yes." She didn't even have the courtesy to look ashamed.
"Damn it!" Jake raised his hands over his head, raking his fingers down his face. "I am so sick of defending you all the time. You fucking lied? What the hell?"
"I didn't think I could get pregnant. I was wrong and I took care of it."
"Without telling me?"
"Why would I tell you?"
"Why?" Jake scoffed. "Because I deserve more respect than a fucking dog. It was part of me, too."
His words were forceful. He was pissed and Avery eagerly fed on that rage like a cat lapping up cream.
"No it wasn't."
The acid in her voice ate right through Jakes' heart. She could tell by the way he jerked back as if he'd been sucker-punched. His whole body deflated.
She felt a little guilty, but part of her was also interested. Angry Jake was a curious thing, an anomaly she was unfamiliar with. Usually, when Jakes upset met her indifference, he dropped it, or caved into her demands. But here he was, looking for a fight and that got Avery curious. Of course, she knew she should apologize, but what if she didn't?
The room became deathly quiet as Avery wondered. What would Jake do then?
Jakes' mouth opened, but no sound came out. He ran his hands up and over his stubby, velvet hair and took a deep breath. "I know that sometimes you say things you don't mean. So I need an explanation before I get righteously pissed."
Avery stood, stepping away from the side of the bed, but said nothing.
Jakes' patience withdrew, leaving only rising anger. His mouth cracked into a grimace. "Not a baby at all, or not my baby?"
"Jake." Avery walked backwards towards the dresser where Angels' purse was set. She knew Angel kept a pocket knife in there. She did not know what Jake might do next, but she wanted to find out. She wanted to be ready for anything.
"What the fuck did you mean?" Jake pressed, pointing a finger in her direction.
Avery felt the smooth handle of the pocket knife against her palm and a ripple of anxiety as she answered. "It was not your baby. Not ours."
Everything inside him seemed to break at once. "Really?" His breath hitched and back bowed, his head fell into his hands.
When he looked at Avery a moment later, the impossible happened; Jake was fuming. And it was not funny at all. He looked so disgusted, so disappointed, it made Avery's self-hatred swell. She knew that Angel would hate her for it, too. But she didn't want to back down. As a matter of fact, she shoved her chin out.
Jake lunged at her, taking her by both shoulders and shaking. "Who was it?"
Avery remained resolutely quiet.
Jake repeated his question, shaking her again as he shouted, "Who? Who?" Tightening his grasp on her arms, his face went red.
It was always very simple for Avery to shift the hate she felt for herself onto others. It was as easy as changing the direction of a loaded cannon. The fuse was always lit and all she had to do was pivot the giant weapon, shift her hateful aim.
She didn't like the way he looked and touched her. His fingers were a vice around each arm. She's was already on edge, thinking too, of the euphoric cloud that had engulfed after she let loose on Deanna.
Avery focused, going for a direct hit. Aimed and fired. "Troy Bleecher dropped me off. He was the one I called because he was the one who was involved. Not you."
Jakes' breathing was harsh. He loosed his grip on her with such force, Avery's back kissed the dresser and it shook. At that moment-the second she was sure Jake was more angry than he had ever been-wa
s the same moment Avery realized the depth of what she was doing.
The irreparable harm she was causing Angel.
"What the fuck are you doing to me?" Jake was shaking. Stuttering, he pointed at her. "Troy Bleecher?" He came closer, pushing her against the dresser, pinching her face in his enormous hand. "You little fucking-" he stopped, his face almost purple. "I would've done anything for you. You take what's mine and give it to someone else, then act like you're so fucking proud of yourself?"
Jake's breathing slowed, his tight angry scowl loosened. He dropped his hand from her face took several steps back. "You're not gonna make me lose my shit. You're wrong and dead-fucking evil, but I shouldn't put my hands on you." Jake turned as if to walk away and then stopped, coming back to finish. "Just know: there's no coming back from this. We are over. Done."
Shit, Avery thought. She had always known things between Angel and Jake wouldn't work in the long term but she couldn't be the one to break them, at least not in such a direct way. Angel would never forgive her.
Avery took a conciliatory step forward and said his name in the same soft way that Angel always did. But Jake stepped back with both hands up as if Avery was made of some contaminating substance. The gesture was plain: he wanted nothing more to do with her.
"I'm not wasting another second with you. And just so you know, Deanna's on her way to get you."
Avery felt her jaw go slack. Jake had to be lying. Avery had hit Deanna hard. Really hard. And laid her in her room, on her bed, as if she were asleep. She'd even taken the time to place some aspirin and a glass of water on her bedside table, to make it look like she didn't feel well, hoping to buy them time to get away. She wasn't supposed to wake up.
Jake's posture straightened, as if he were proud-or pissed-while Avery's shrank.
"Oh, I talked to her." He gloated, "I called to thank her for her generosity in letting you come with me. Imagine how surprised I was to learn that you didn't. That you just fucking ran off!"
"You had no right checking up on me!" Avery backed away and steadied herself against the dresser, keeping the folded pocket knife in her grasp. Was he lying? Did he really talk to Deanna? If by some miracle he did, had Deanna told Jake what happened? Was that the real reason he was so angry?
"Because you're so trustworthy." His hands rolled into fists. "You can tell Deanna all about how shitty I am when she gets here, in a few minutes."
Jake shrugged, as if the news was nothing. As if Angels' plans, as if her life, didn't matter at all.
That was unacceptable.
Avery couldn't flinch, now. The situation was beyond hesitation, beyond the point of return. She couldn't take back what she'd said to Jake. Or what he'd said to Deanna. Angel would suffer, either way. So there was no point in trying to settle anything, was there?
All that was left was the unanswered question: what if?
Avery was too curious to stop pushing. Her compulsion was born of a wonderment that would not be satisfied until the confrontation reached crescendo and completion. Avery had to know what Jake would do next. She had to.
"I'm not leaving with Deanna."
"I'm not going to jail for you. I asked you to move in with me. To marry me!" He nearly screamed at her.
"You can't make me leave."
And then, the impossible happened again. Angry Jake got more angry. So angry, that he laughed. He got very close-closer-stepping on Avery's bare toes with his big boot, and whispering in her ear.
"If I have to stuff you in the damn trunk myself, I will. And there is nothing you can do about it. You are a fucking liar and I don't want you here. Maybe you should call Troy, tell him how proud you are. You're his problem, now."
Avery knew his words were actually threats and reacted.
The first two times the blade stuck him between his ribs, Avery expected a big reaction. But it was as if he didn't feel it. Jake simply lumbered back, gazing at her as if she were speaking some unknown language.
His hand moved up over his abdomen. The rippling anger that made him laugh and threaten her pulled back like receding water. It was sucked too far out to sea, exposing too much beach. Jake broke his gaze, looking down at his hand.
"Angel?" He saw the red on his palm and stopped. He got that look on his face again, like she was an alien creature. "What did you do?"
If this were a normal conversation, Avery would have laughed. It was such a stupid thing to say. It seemed that Jake was in shock, but only for a second.
He went for the phone. Maybe because it was closer than the door. Avery's hand shot out to stop him. She was still holding the knife, moving it quickly, wherever she could find flesh. She got his back when he turned, his leg when he tried to jump over the bed and fell. It seemed he didn't want to fight with her and that made her want to keep going. How far would she have to go to make Jake defend himself?
But he kept backing away, like he only wanted out.
Avery saw the fear in his eyes as the blade slashed across his forearm, but she didn't stop. She moved faster, plunged deeper. She couldn't think of anything except, what if I keep going? When will Jake stop me? How?
The blade was sharper than it looked and she wouldn't let go of it. Not when Jake tried to take it from her, not when his back hit the wall, not even when he fell to the floor, begging her to stop. When he cried out for help, she just kept trying to make him be quiet. She didn't stop trying until Jake did.
And then, she took a deep breath.
Before she could gather her thoughts, before she felt that surge of peace she desperately needed there was another knock.
It was the busiest night ever, like Grand Central Station or something. Avery never had so much company in her life. When she began turning the knob to see who was outside-she wasn't going to let them in. She was only checking-but Angelica must have seen the door handle move and anticipated. She tried to barge in, probably desperate to get away from the orgy that had formed in the room three doors down and she wasn't going to spend another minute waiting to celebrate being the newest member of Analog Controller. It was the greatest night of her life. They were going to be huge. She was sure of it.
But Avery kept her body behind the door, wedging her foot so it barely opened enough to peek out.
"There's a chubby black lady looking for you." Angelica chuckled, her face falling when the door did not give way to her pressure. "Don't you feel any better?"
Avery's heart was racing. She knew it had to be Deanna. "Go away." She slammed the door in the girl's face and locked the chain bolt at the top.
As Avery paced, her confusion and anger grew. Angelica's message-'a chubby black lady looking for you'-verified Jakes warning.
And what the hell? Avery stomped her foot, enraged and impatient. Why was it taking so long? Why hadn't she felt the rush like before? Why was there no release this time? What was different? And what was she supposed to do about Deanna? Had the Foster called the police? She looked at her clothes, at the knife still in her hand, at the red-stained room, and realized she had messed up.
While trying to think what to do next, Avery noticed Angel standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring down at the mess she made in the far corner.
"I'm sorry," Avery mumbled and dropped the knife back into Angels' purse. Then apologized again. And again. Angel didn't respond, though. She crouched on the floor in a haze, hearing and seeing nothing but what was in front of her.
Avery had to fix it. She left Angel to her quiet panic and began thinking. Pacing again. Trying to match up the scene with a plausible scenario. Mid-way through planning what Avery hoped would be a plausible lie, came another knock on the door. And then a voice boomed through the wood. "I know you're in there!" Angelica squeaked.
Avery hesitated, but then thought better of it. If her plan was to appear desperate, she'd have to act like a desperate person and answer quickly. So she did. She opened the door wide and threw herself into Angelica's arms.
But, then as Avery tried to explain, the girl saw the mess in the corner, what was left of Jake, and backed away. Avery tried to look as weak and broken as Angel did, leaning over, faking a cry, and gasping as if her world was over. And then she gave the story she thought someone like Angelica would believe.
"He-" she cut off, thinking, would it seem too rehearsed to come right out and say it? Took a breath, the way Angel often did, and finished, "-he wouldn't stop! He tried to kill me!"
And that was as far as her plan had formed. But she'd said it and she couldn't back down when Angelica leaned out in to the motel corridor and called out for the police.
Not help, Avery noted, she said police. Avery did not want to involve authorities but reasoned if Angelica believed the accusation, calling the cops was the next logical step. And then Avery knew why Angelica had used that specific word, because she heard the sound of heavy boots in the cement corridor.
The room was suddenly a flurry of noise and activity as two, then three, then five officers rushed into the room. They were holding their weapons and shouting commands. Angelica was the first to put her hands up and so Avery did likewise. But the moment she gave an inch, Angel woke up from her stupor and began screaming for help. She was subdued immediately, just like Avery.
On the way out of the motel room, as Avery was shoved into the back of a waiting patrol car, she looked for the one person she knew had brought them there: Deanna.
She was across the lot, near the office. Her face was covered in bruises, and though she did not look at Angel, she begged for the police to be gentle with her, told them the girl was sick, that she didn't know what she was doing.
Avery thought, how ironic.
Because she thought she'd killed Deanna. Now Jake was dead and Deanna-who was supposed to be-was pleading, her eyes were filled with tears. After everything, she was still trying to protect Angel.
+++
I am done.
My tank is on E.
"I'm finished." I say, and wait to be taken back to my cell.
