What Unbreakable Looks Like

by Kate McLaughlin

  I think of Ivy’s dead, battered face and it makes me sad. Sick. I’ll never forget those photos. Doesn’t matter that she was clean and on a medical table; dead is dead, and she didn’t deserve to go out like that. What they did to her face …

  She didn’t deserve a lot of things that happened to her. None of us did.

  “I heard Mike’s afraid you might knife him.”

  I smile a little. “I doubt that’s true.”

  “He’s also afraid of Zack.”

  “That I believe. Zack’s a pretty big guy.”

  “Mm,” my friend says, glancing at me. “How big do you think?”

  Shit, I actually blush. Elsa starts cackling like an old witch. “Don’t talk about him like that,” I say.

  “Why not? This is how straight girls talk about hot boys, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but Zack’s a friend.”

  “Right.” There’s something in her voice I can’t identify. “Wanna go for a coffee?”

  I shoot her a sideways glance. “Bean Queen?”

  Now she’s the one turning pink. “Maybe.”

  The Bean Queen is where Maisie Kaye works. She’s a first-year Wesleyan student who refers to herself as “Jewnesian” because she’s Jewish Chinese American. She’s also been flirting with Elsa for the last month.

  Not long after she came out to me, Elsa wanted me to know that she wasn’t being a creeper. She wasn’t in love with me and trying to woo me to the “dark side.” She didn’t have hopes of us being “fuck buddies.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Just in case you were worried,” she added.

  I wasn’t, but that was why she got so angry when Mike suggested she have sex with me. We’ve never really talked about my experiences at the motel with women. I’ve never been attracted to another girl, though if I had to choose to have forced sex with a guy or a girl, I’d take the girl. No girl ever hurt me. Sometimes there was a little kink, but they never left me sore or bleeding. One time, it was even kind of nice.

  Sometimes a few of the girls would pair off and do things to each other. It was never my thing, but if it made them feel better about the situation we were in, whatever. I had my pills. Regardless, I’ve got no problem with people who are gay, lesbian, trans—any of it. Just don’t hurt me, and we’ll get along fine.

  I don’t really want to go to BQ because I find it a little pretentious. Plus Mike likes to go there. But I do want a coffee, and I’d do anything for Elsa, so I start heading in the direction of downtown. Okay, if I’m being 100 percent honest, I don’t want to go because of Elsa and Maisie. I’m a bitter, vicious bitch who doesn’t want to see other people flirt. It’s another reminder of something I’ll never be able to have.

  I liked Mike because he was cute, but that was all he had going for him. I don’t know how to be attracted to someone anymore. I don’t trust myself when I think a guy looks good. It doesn’t mean he is good. I don’t know if I’ll ever have “normal” sex again. And for me, normal means sex that feels nice and is invited. I mean, how can I have normal sex when the idea of being with anyone is enough to make me dissociate? I just open a door in my head and run away by habit.

  Still, I’m not broken enough that I don’t want it, that I don’t have any sex drive at all. There’s only so much a girl can do on her own, though. Sometimes, I think it would be nice to have someone to curl up against—someone to kiss. That’s why I get angry when I see other people who seem to take such things for granted. I can’t kiss someone without wondering if he’s going to hurt me.

  Or worse—do something I might like. That happened a couple of times at the motel, and it made me feel dirtier than anything else. Once, I actually came—and I cried for hours afterward …

  I push the memory back in its box. I don’t want that one to go any further. I turn my attention to Elsa. “You going to ask her out?”

  “If I can get the guts up, yeah.”

  “Okay then, let’s go.”

  Downtown Middletown has an old-timey feel to it, that quaint small town thing you see on TV. Bean Queen is off the main drag, on a narrow side street. The front is almost entirely glass, making it easy to see how busy it is inside. It’s always busy, but the main area is big enough that you can usually get a seat. It’s a big hangout with the artsy crowd, so it usually smells of patchouli and aspirations.

  When we walk in, Maisie is behind the counter. She looks up, sees El, and grins. Elsa grins back. I sigh. She’s even got treats ready for the dogs, and they stare at her adoringly as well. She really seems great, but I’m selfish enough to wonder what I’m going to do when Elsa wants to spend all her time with a girlfriend instead of me. Maybe hang out with Zack, but that’s been a little awkward since the day in my room. And what happens when he finds a girl? Because a guy like Zack is going to find a girl.

  Maisie knows our orders—another point in her favor—and makes my chai perfectly.

  “You could join us when you get a break,” Elsa suggests. Her voice is a little shaky. God, she’s so cute when she’s nervous.

  Maisie’s grin gets bigger. She’s cute too—with her choppy dark hair, wide eyes, and pierced nose. The two of them together look like some kind of manga wet dream. “Sure.”

  I glance around the shop so I don’t have to watch them make eyes at each other. Sitting by the back wall is Zack. He’s bent over a textbook, scribbling notes, so he doesn’t notice me.

  I stare at him. I like his face and the tan of his skin. Next to me, everyone is tan, but his won’t fade in the winter. His hair is practically black and shines under the shaded lights. He has it tucked behind his ears so it doesn’t hang in his face. I really like his face.

  He looks up. “Hello, gorgeous.”

  It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to Isis, not me.

  The female pittie pulls at her lead, trying to get closer to him. I arch a brow, a little jealous. Then Cleo gets curious. Both girls walk straight up to Zack and shove their faces into him.

  He grins. I hesitate. He’s kind of beautiful. When his gaze lifts to mine, I can’t bring myself to smile. He doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he doesn’t care. “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi.”

  He glances over my shoulder to where Elsa and Maisie stand, still talking. “Are they dating?” he asks, curious.

  “Not yet,” I reply. “Listen, thanks for what you did for me at school.”

  He nods. “That girl’s an asshole. You want to sit?”

  I don’t, but Isis has curled up on his boot. “What are you studying?”

  “Middle Eastern history.”

  “Mr. Randall?”

  He raises a brow. “You take it too?”

  I nod. “Are you guys talking about Jesus?”

  “Yeah. I like that he doesn’t bring any religious stuff in—just talks about him as a man.”

  “Me too. You know, people think he actually married Mary Magdalene.” Score one for the whores.

  “I think that makes sense. They were definitely more than friends. Have you ever seen Jesus Christ Superstar?”

  I shake my head. “That’s a musical, right?”

  “Yeah. You should watch it. I think you might like it. There’s this great song where Mary talks about how she feels about Jesus.”

  I like musicals, or at least I’ve liked the ones I’ve seen. “I’ll check it out.”

  Elsa and Maisie join us, forcing me to move closer to Zack in order to keep the dogs’ leads from getting tangled.

  “Hey,” Elsa says to Zack.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Maisie asks.

  “Jesus Christ Superstar,” I reply.

  Maisie brightens. “Oh! I love that movie.” She starts singing something about a buzz and what’s a-happening. It’s all very weird. I stare at her as she sings and chair-dances a bit to a song I’ve never heard before.

  “Lex hasn’t seen it,” Zack informs her. “I was just telling her that I think she might like it.”
>
  Maisie smiles at me. “I hope you do. It’s awesome.”

  Elsa straightens. “I haven’t seen it either. Maybe we should have a watch party at my place. Next Friday night. What do you think?” She turns to Maisie. “You want to come?”

  I might not be really smart when it comes to love and romance, but I know when I’m expected to play a part in getting my friend more time with the person she likes, so I don’t protest. Besides, a lot can happen in a week.

  “Sure,” Maisie replies, her expression almost coy. Seriously, the two of them are so transparent, it’s pathetic and cute at the same time. I hate them even though they give me hope. I’m jealous and petty, but Mitch didn’t kill all the romance in my soul. Sometimes, I wish he had.

  A huge smile curves Elsa’s little lips. She surprises me by turning to Zack. “How about you? Want to join us?”

  He glances at me. I shrug. “I’ll check,” he says. “Can I let you know Monday?”

  “Sure,” Elsa replies. “You’ve got my number.”

  We sit for a little while longer, but Maisie has to get back to work, and I remind Elsa that I need to get home. There’s a show on Netflix that Krys, Jamal, and I have been watching every night this week.

  “You guys want a lift?” Zack offers. “It’s pretty dark out. I’m parked on Main Street.”

  It’s maybe a half-hour walk home, so nothing crazy. “We’re good,” I say before Elsa can. I don’t want to owe him more than I already do.

  Elsa says goodbye to Maisie, and the seven of us walk outside. The dogs are eager to get home too. We make it to Main Street when I hear someone yell at me.

  “Lex! Hey, Lex!”

  I turn my head in time to get slapped upside it. I feel the impact through my jaw and ear, down into my neck and shoulder. I hear both Elsa and Zack shout. The dogs go nuts. Cleo bares her teeth.

  Blinking through tears, I look into the enraged gaze of Amanda Fischer—Mike’s sister. She’s got two friends with her, but both of them are behind her, looking a little timid with Cleo and Caesar growling at them. My sweet little Isis is right in front of me, snarling at the girl who hit me. Amanda looks like she wants to kick her.

  “Hurt my dog, and I’ll mess you up,” I tell her softly. I survived for months with a bunch of scared, fucked-up, stoned girls. If you think girls can’t fight, you’ve never been on the wrong side of one of us.

  “I’m going to mess you up,” she tells me. “You got my brother arrested, you fucking slut!”

  I feel nothing at this news. I’m not happy or satisfied. I don’t feel ashamed or guilty. I’m just blank.

  “Your brother committed sexual assault, you stupid bitch,” Elsa fires back. Caesar and Trill strain at their leads, but she holds them close. “And shared child porn. He should be locked up.”

  “You better watch your back,” one of Amanda’s friends tells me, lips curled in a sneer. “Mike has a lot of a friends. A lot more than a little skank like you.”

  “You won’t always have your dogs to protect you,” Amanda adds. She gives both Zack and Elsa dirty looks. “You know, dogs get hit by cars all the time.”

  Elsa gives Caesar some slack. He lunges for Amanda, but she manages to jump back just in time. His teeth are wet as his muzzle peels back. There’s part of me that would love to see what he might do if she let him go.

  Amanda and her friends turn and stomp off. They’re talking loud and tough—like I need to be afraid of them. I’m not afraid for me. I’d have Amanda on the ground and bleeding from three different places before she could do any damage to me.

  “What kind of psycho threatens a dog?” Zack asks.

  “The kind that stands up for her rapist brother,” Elsa answers. She turns to me. “You okay?”

  I nod. I’m fine, but if Amanda hurts my dog, I won’t be. I turn to Zack. “I think maybe we’ll take that lift home after all.”

  “Yeah.” He jangles his keys. “That’s a good idea.”

  chapter thirteen

  “What’s your name?” the new girl whispered in the dark. Mitch told us her name was Ivy. It was early morning and we could finally go to sleep. Sleep was escape, and I looked forward to it every day. I only wanted to slip away.

  She had stopped crying. Daisy threatened to kick her ass if she didn’t. Maybe she’d stop talking next.

  “Poppy,” I replied.

  “No. Your real name.”

  I hesitated. “Alexa.”

  She took my hand, her fingers soft and cool. She was still in my bed, and probably would be until Mitch got her a room. “I’m Jaime.”

  “New girl,” came Daisy’s voice like a blade in the dark, “your damn name is Ivy. Ain’t nobody here cares who you were before. You don’t exist no more, understand?”

  Something hot and wet fell on my shoulder. She was crying again. “Shut up, Daze,” I said. I’d taken some pills before bed and my voice sounded faraway to my own ears.

  She grunted. I squeezed Jaime’s—Ivy’s—hand. For a second, I thought about touching her. Maybe if I showed her kindness, made her come, she’d settle down and accept her fate. And maybe she’d give me something in return, make me forget.

  But I didn’t really like girls, and I was so damn tired.

  “Jaime’s a nice name.” Maybe I liked it because it was sort of like mine—unisex. People used to call me Alex all the time, leaving off the final a.

  The mellow I was feeling took the thought further. What would it be like to be a guy? To never have to worry about someone fucking you? Someone hurting you? What would it be like to know you could walk somewhere late at night? To not have to flinch from the breath of the guy panting in your face? There were guys in the life, I wasn’t so naive that I didn’t know this, but there weren’t as many of them. And guys could still put up a decent fight.

  Fingertips tickled my palm. “How long have you been here?”

  “New girl—”

  “Jesus Christ, Daze!” I yelled. “Put your fucking headphones on and shut the fuck up! The girl needs to talk, let her talk.”

  Daisy was the closest Mitch had to a top girl. No one talked back to her when she got pissed, not even Violet. Mitch listened to her, and no one wanted trouble with Mitch. I didn’t want trouble either, but Daisy being a cow reminded me of what she’d been like when I’d been the new girl, and I didn’t want Jaime to feel alone like I had.

  Daisy grunted, but she didn’t come at me. Maybe there was some compassion left in her after all.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “Months.” At least six because I was due for another pap smear soon. Mitch had a “doctor” who came in twice a year to examine us. We were tested for HIV and HPV too. All that good stuff. After, the doc chose which one of us he wanted as payment—usually whoever had the best checkup.

  She sniffed. “I’m never going to see my family again, am I?”

  “Probably not.” Shit, I didn’t really miss mine. I was better off by myself.

  Yeah, I was so fucking good at taking care of myself. I had an itch between my legs that told me one of the guys I’d been with probably had crabs. Great. I was going to have to get some of that shampoo from Mitch. He was probably going to make me shave too. He was too cheap to take me to get waxed. And too paranoid someone would notice something wasn’t right and call the cops.

  I wished the pills would hurry up. I groped for the baggy under my pillow. The smooth plastic was comforting under my fingers. I opened the Ziploc top and took out two, then put the bag away. I turned the girl’s hand over and pressed the little tablets into her palm. “Take these,” I told her. “They’ll help.”

  I shouldn’t have given them to her. I shouldn’t have made her like me, but it was the only thing I could think to do that might help. I didn’t want to hear her cry. I didn’t want to hold her hand every time a guy got on top of her. And I sure as hell didn’t want her to make me remember what life had been like before Mitch made me little better than a sex doll. Without the pills, those memorie
s would have made me cry, but I just lay there in the dark, the air smelling of perfume, girl BO, and spunk.

  She made a noise. “They’re bitter.”

  I closed my eyes. Her voice, the smells, the itch … they all began to fade away. I smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”

  * * *

  Krys and Jamal are making popcorn when I get home. Krys looks at me, then out the window at the headlights leaving our driveway, and asks, “What happened?”

  I unclip Isis’s leash. “We went for coffee. I ran into Mike’s sister, Amanda. I guess the cops arrested Mike earlier. She threatened to kick my ass—and to hurt Isis.” I pick up my puppy, even though she’s getting heavy, and hold her to my chest. She wiggles and licks my chin.

  Krys scowls. “Is the whole family a bunch of sociopaths?”

  “I didn’t think so,” I reply, “but I’m not a very good judge of character.”

  “I’m going to call Detective Willis. You need to tell her what the girl said.”

  I shrug. “Okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” my aunt retorts. I glance up at her sharp tone. She looks so frigging mad, I’m not sure what to do. She swipes a hand across one of her eyes. She’s crying. “I don’t know why the world can’t just let you have a fresh start.”

  Maybe because I don’t deserve one, I think. Or, suggests a tiny voice in the back of my brain, a fresh start isn’t what I need. Maybe I need to take what I’ve got and build from there.

  Jamal rubs a hand down Krys’s spine. “Who drove you home?” he asks.

  “Zack.”

  My uncle suddenly looks interested. “Oh, really?” The look he shoots my aunt is obvious.

  “Don’t be doin’ that. We’re just friends.”

  The microwave dings, and Jamal takes the butter out. “I imagine he’s a good friend for you, given his own background.”

  I frown. “What’s his background?” Zack hasn’t told me much about himself. I guess I haven’t told him much about me either—he sort of fell into finding out. We never talk about it, so I don’t even know for sure what he knows.