Canary (24 page)

The bedroom door was open now, light coming in. Someone was standing in the doorway.

“Jack?” I tried to lift my arms, but they didn't budge. I couldn't move and felt tangled in the sheets.

The door opened wider to let him in and then shut again, leaving the two of us in the dark. He sat on the edge of the bed, and my stomach heaved as the mattress bounced slightly.

“I'm sorry about earlier,” I mumbled, my words sliding together.

He pulled the sheets back and ran his fingers down my arm with slow, gentle pressure.

Goose bumps spread all over, a familiar tingle traveling throughout my body. “I'm so cold,” I told him, trying to welcome him in.

The bed shifted, and he was beneath the sheets.

I pressed my body against his warmth, trying to still myself and stop everything in the room from moving.

He smelled different, of smoke and beer and a mix of something new, but I didn't care. Jack was here with me. Jack was next to me, and it all felt okay again. At least it did for a moment. My stomach heaved, and I sat up.

“Wait. I think I may need to go to the bathroom. I don't feel so well.” I tried to sit up, certain I was going to be sick.

He put his hands above my chest and pushed me back down roughly.

I gasped.

He pulled at my bikini top and struggled to get the back untied.

It seemed impossible to do anything. It was too hard to move. I lay still as he took off my top and then yanked off my bottoms.

I was sick and dizzy, but I wanted Jack. I wanted to know he wasn't mad at me anymore. As his mouth fell over mine and his hands moved everywhere, I wished for the room to stop moving, for my life to stop spinning.

He kissed me again, and I yelped when he bit at my lip. Jack wasn't usually this forceful, but my nausea clouded any more thoughts.

I stayed still, unable to kiss him back. His hands explored me. It felt different. It was as if it wasn't me; it wasn't as if it was him.

I kept my eyes shut, forgetting where we were, who we were, and tried to pretend we were someone else. We were Jack and Kate but the Jack and Kate from months ago. The Jack and Kate who met outside a hotel, who stayed there until the sun came up; the Jack and Kate who kissed for the first time on a driveway in the middle of a crowded party; the Jack and Kate who first showed each other how they felt when it really did seem it was all about love and each other. I closed my eyes and pretended he was that Jack and I was that Kate. I let myself remember and remember and remember in order to forget, forget, forget.

“Jack,” I whispered as he moved over me and nodded. 

He was breathing heavy, a funny noise that sounded as if he had a cold.

He started to unwrap something, and as he shifted, I realized it was a condom.

I grabbed at his wrist to stop him and opened my eyes, everything clear for a moment. It was then I realized what was wrong. Why Jack felt different.

“Luke,” I whispered.

“Hey, baby,” he drawled lazily and held me against the mattress, his hand pressed against the sore spot on my chest where he had pushed me down.

“Stop.” My voice came out tiny and weak. I needed to stop him. He was moving over me. 

“Just enjoy this,” Luke said, his breath hot and wet against my ear.

“Jack,” I called out for help.

Luke laughed.

My mind told me to punch him, hit him, kick him, but it was impossible. My body seemed to be made out of rubber. 

“Hey, I'm up for playing games if you want to call me Jack.”

“No,” I screamed, and I felt my voice coming from deep inside.

Luke put his hand over my mouth, and I bit him as hard as I could.

He slapped me. “You bitch.”

I kept on screaming. This was not going to happen. I would not let it. I screamed and screamed until the room was once again flooded in light.

This time, Jack really did appear.

 

“What the hell? Can't a person even get laid in peace?” Luke hissed, pushing me away roughly and covering his eyes with the hand I'd bitten. “Close the goddamn door.”

“Kate?” Jack asked sharply, as if he were scolding someone. He walked in. Right up to the bed where I was lying with Luke.

“I hate to break it to you, man, but she was begging for it,” Luke said. 

“Go to hell,” Jack said. He was so close to the bed that if I reached farther, my fingers could brush against his skin.

Luke shifted, and then he was sitting up. He laughed softly.  

I wanted to shout out and tell Jack that Luke was lying. That I had fought him off and I would never do something like that to him, but my mouth seemed full of cotton. Before I could explain anything, Jack left me. He walked out. He slammed the door and turned everything dark again. 

The bed bounced up and down as Luke got up. He got dressed and then kicked at the side of the bed. “Forget this,” he said. “I'm going to find Ali.”

I gripped the sheets tightly around me until he left the room, and then I threw up over the side of the bed.

 

I stumbled to the door and locked it. I wasn't sure what kind of protection it could offer, but I needed to do something to at least pretend I might be safe. I found the bag of clothes Ali and I had dropped in Jack's room earlier and put my pajamas on. I didn't want to wear anything that reminded me of the earlier part of the night. I lifted a leg to put on my pants and stumbled. I sat against the wall to pull them up. My body was vibrating, and standing was not working in my favor. I welcomed the warmflannel pants and sweatshirt, glad I hadn't let Ali talk me into bringing the sexy lace tank top she'd volunteered to pack for me. I fished my cell phone out of my purse and typed, AT JACK'S. NEED U TO GET ME.

I only hesitated for a second before I sent the message.

Brett replied almost immediately, BE THERE ASAP.

I let out the breath I'd been holding. Brett was still here for me. I wasn't so sure he would be after everything that had happened, but he was coming. I closed my eyes and welcomed the way my brain started to fade and everything disappeared. I was losing consciousness again, but this time I didn't fight it. It was a relief.

I didn't open my eyes again until I heard a pounding on the door.

I thought the worst. I pictured Luke outside coming back to finish what he had started or Jack wanting to break up with me or Ali ready to fight me. I curled into the fetal position, wound tight and protected. I prayed whoever was outside would leave me alone.

“Kate? Are you in there?”

It was Brett.

“Are you alone?” I asked.

“Yeah, everyone in the house is asleep. Are you okay? Open the door.”

I crawled to the door and unlocked it. I couldn't look Brett in the eye when he walked in. Instead, I looked around the room that only hours earlier had felt as safe to me as my own. Jack's basketball trophies lined a shelf over his bed, his framed picture with LeBron was on his desk, and a pile of clothes fought their way out of his laundry basket next to the window. When I had been in here before with Jack, I'd felt protected and loved, but now it terrified me. There was nothing comforting about Jack's bedroom.

“What's wrong? Why are you in here alone?” Brett stood over me.

I wanted to curl back into a ball.

“Did Jack do something to you?”

My voice came out low and gravelly. “Just take me home.”

Brett stooped down to my level. His hands were fists, and the muscles in his neck strained. “What the hell did that bastard do? I'll kill him.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“Damn it, Kate. Tell me what happened.” Brett walked to Jack's bookcase and picked up one of the many trophies. He threw it at the window and shattered the glass. Cold air flooded the room.

I buried my face in my arms. “Jack didn't do anything,” I said, and it hurt how true those words
really were.

Brett walked over the broken glass, the pieces cracking under his shoes.

“I need to leave. Please. People probably heard you, and I don't want to face anyone.”

Brett wrapped his arms around me and helped me up. I leaned against him and allowed him to maneuver me down the steps. Brett was moving fast, and I knew he didn't want to see anyone just as much as I didn't want to run into them.

He was silent until he'd driven us away. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“No,” I whispered. I wouldn't let my mind go there. I kept my eyes focused on where we were heading, not where we had been.

The streets were empty, a quiet dark. We moved down side roads without streetlights. In one house, I saw a light flash on for a minute and then turn off again. I wondered why it had come on. Was it a child who'd had a bad dream? Someone who needed to use the bathroom? A late-night phone call or maybe someone in love, watching their partner sleep.

I used to do that with Jack.

When we were in the movie theater, I'd look at him out of the corner of my eye. I'd watch as the screen lit up his face, watch him react to whatever was happening with the actors, and I'd smile because I was sitting next to him.

He'd catch me staring at him across the room at a party, give me a wave, and come over.

In the beginning, it seemed we were never far away from each other.

And some nights, when we had his house or mine to ourselves for a few hours, I would watch him when we were kissing, his eyes closed. I'd keep mine open and think, 
This is what it is to be loved; this is what it is to be lucky.

I laughed at how stupid I had been.

Lucky? What did I have to feel lucky about now?

I thought about how Jack had reacted when he walked into the room. He didn't yell or fight Luke. He didn't wrap me up in his arms or even listen to me. Instead, he walked out.

“He just left me there.”

I said it so quietly Brett didn't even hear me. He kept staring forward as we drove home in the dark, and my words disappeared into the air.

www.allmytruths.com

Today's Truth:

Those who once made you feel
 
everything
 
can make you feel like nothing.

I AM

what's under the rocks outside in our garden,

the ones we played with when we were young,

daring each other to lift to see what was
underneath.

Outside, I may look normal.

I blend in.

Below the surface, I'm different.

I'm dark.

I AM

the moist dirt that, when the rain pours, becomes mud.

Thick, black, and

nothing but a mess.

Posted By: Your Present Self

[Saturday, December 14, 4:37 AM]

Brett put the car into park on our driveway but left the engine on.

“Dad's not here,” I said. “You don't have to run out of here as if he's going to chase you down.”

“Do you want me to come inside?”

I shrugged. The only thing I wanted at the moment was for Jack to show up. Or maybe for Luke to drop dead. I'd take either.

“How about you tell me what happened? I know it wasn't just about you having a few too many drinks.”

“I didn't drink a lot.”

He raised one eyebrow.

I spoke loudly, practically shouting, “It's the truth.”

Brett shrugged, and I knew he didn't believe me. “It doesn't matter,” he said. “I told you I wouldn't judge. I'm just glad you called me.”

“Thanks for coming to get me. I know it's late.” I touched his arm lightly, which felt weird and out of place for our family, but I needed to make some kind of safe connection with someone.

“Nah, it was late when you first called. Now that it's almost five. It's early morning. I've got a good start to my day.”

“And I need to sleep.” I looked at our house and thought about my warm bed in there. I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and never come out.

“Kate,” Brett said, turning all serious. “Do you know by not telling me what's wrong, I'm imagining the worst?”

I knew what he was saying was true. It wasn't fair to not say anything after Brett had come in the middle of the night to get me, but I couldn't tell him. He'd go nuts. He'd want to protect me. It was as simple
as that.

Once, when our cousin had taken a marker and drawn all over my favorite doll, Brett went after her Barbies. She went home with a bagful of bald
Barbies, crying.

If I told Brett, I wasn't sure Luke would make it out alive.

“I'll be fine,” I told him and stepped out of the car. I grabbed the door handle, still feeling a bit shaky.

I stopped and considered telling him the truth. Brett would understand. He would listen.

But the truth shamed me. I was the one who had let Luke come into the bed. I had let it happen.

There was no way I could tell the truth, so I stayed quiet.

I felt like a robot walking toward the house. My insides were nothing; my body was a machine working to keep me moving. It took one foot slowly in front of the other to get me to the front door.

The house was quiet and dark when I walked inside. I flashed the front lights at Brett and watched him drive away. Dad had left a Post-it on the microwave:
“There's leftover pizza in the fridge. Be back tomorrow afternoon. Hope you had fun at Ali's house.”
 I ripped down the note and crumpled it, thinking about all the fun I had.

I went directly to my room and called Jack. I left a message trying to explain, asking him to call, wanting him to forgive and help.

I waited. I didn't sleep; I didn't think; I didn't anything. I just lay there, my mind blank, waiting for Jack to tell me everything was going to be okay.

I hid in my room all the next day and stared at my phone. I called Jack again and told him I needed to talk. After, I expected his name to flash across the front of my phone and his voice to say my name. I needed him to fill the rest of the space with words that would make everything better.