Jayne Doe (6 page)

The smell. That perfect, heavenly smell fills the cab of the truck. I miss food. The desire is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.

I'm still a junkie.

Jayne cruises through the round-a-bout and sneaks into the city park next to JoAnn Fabrics. The engine idles in a frozen cloud of fog as she places the juice on the pile of college textbooks between us. She takes a napkin and unfolds it in her lap before gently opening the small square box. After inspecting every inch of the burger, she presses it against her parted lips.

Her pace is driving me crazy. I would never take this long. I would’ve had that thing slammed down by now, thinking about the next thing I could eat. But with Jayne, it’s different. She actually enjoys every delicious part. The tangy sauce mixing with the crunch of pickles and lettuce. The perfect balance of three sliced buns. Though I'm sure I've never noticed them before, even the sesame seeds are perfect.

She reaches down and grabs three French fries, cramming them in her mouth to mix with the remainder of her burger, the way I used to.

I’m so enamored with the food, I don’t see the little girl until she's between Jayne and me.

She’s weeping.

“You can never come back after you start seeing others,”
Stephen's words echo in my mind. I already knew I was staying with Jayne, but I never thought about having to see other dead people.

I close my eyes and pretend she will go away if I ignore her.

She rustles around, moving closer to Jayne.

This can’t be good.

I open my eyes and concentrate.

She’s lost. Alone.

“Why are you here?”
I ask.
What am I thinking?
If she answers I'm going to freak. And I can't help her; I’m barely figuring things out for myself.

Her eyes turn to me.

I freeze solid.

Those eyes.

Those intense, blue eyes.

Stephen.

I suddenly realize who she is—she’s the little girl with Stephen, the one from the swing when I first saw him.

Then she disappears.

“Come back,” I say out loud.

Nothing.

Jayne slurps the last of her juice, breaking the silence. Then she rubs her hands together and lets the crumbs fall onto the plastic floor mats.

I look around, searching everywhere.

Why was she here?

My mind reels, grasping for an answer. I’m trying to clasp onto something that makes sense. Conversations. Fights. Thoughts. Anything. My chest warms in frustration.

Almost instantly Jayne disappears.

I’m outside now. Not sure where, but it seems familiar. My foot catches on a thick root and I trip, catching myself against a wide tree. I figure out what’s going on. It’s like hours have passed in seconds. I stare at the railroad tracks. The river just up the hill tells me that I'm about a mile from home. And I'm in the middle of the woods. A large barrel contains a blazing fire and a man watches it burn from the shadows. Bits of ash float in the frozen night while he chugs a beer.

I move closer, craving warmth that even fire can't give me. He chucks the bottle into the steel barrel. It crashes to the bottom and I jump, startled at the obtrusive sound.

The man steps closer to the barrel and the flames light up his face.

It’s Johnny.

He’s alone.

His boots crunch against the icy snow as he passes the barrel and makes his way over to his father’s truck parked under a canopy of trees. It’s hooked up to a snowmobile trailer. He reaches down and lifts the backdoor, letting it slam open.

My heart sinks.

Every piece of my bedroom furniture is crammed into the back of that thing.
How did he get it in there?
He tugs at my old sheets, tearing them from the mattress. Then he grabs a small white daisy with pink glitter on the petals. Jayne made it. Along with all of the other little flowers artfully glued to my headboard.
A shrine?

Johnny grabs at the tender little objects and crushes them in careless palms.

My breath comes out in short, uneven gasps and I feel a tightness creeping up my chest. I don't want him to touch anything.
Why can’t he just leave what’s left alone?
He can’t get away with this, with everything he's done. I’m going to find a way to show everyone what he’s done.

He grabs another beer from the ground next to the trailer and twists off the top. The stale, musty aftertaste of cheap beer leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as he swallows. I’m closer than I should be.

I reach out and place the tips of my fingers on his shoulder, but steer clear of his chest.

I want to know what he’s thinking, but his thoughts are all over the place. He’s angry. Or maybe afraid. I can’t tell.

Why did you get in my car, Jill?

Why did you let me touch you, Jill?

Why can’t you just disappear, Jill?

Get the hell out of my head, Jill.

His eyes are glassy and he looks down at the brown bottle in his hand. With a whip of his arm, the bottle flies through the air, shattering against the trailer. I pull my hand from him, step back, and put up my guard, afraid of what will happen if I touch him again

He’s drunk and his skin is darkening with swirls of shadow.

I can feel them, their poison emanating from him.

Loud shrieks rumble from the ground. Black fog rises like steam. Dark figures climb all over his body, whispering and chanting, feeding from his emotions.

Bile rises to my throat and I force myself to choke it down, rubbing my hands over my arms to make sure that the shadows haven't found me.

I want Jayne.

Johnny shakes off the blackness, and steps toward the trailer to pull out my mattress and box spring. He wants to burn them.

When they don't fit into the barrel he grabs a chainsaw. The shadows, still hovering close to him, shriek at the noise, a frightening cadence piercing the night.

Beads of sweat drip from his face.

When the mattress and box spring have been reduced to sawdust and chunks of particle board, Johnny returns to the trailer and slams the chainsaw down on all of my furniture. His eyes are wide, feral. Anything that won’t catch fire gets doused with gasoline and it all goes into the barrel

Hysterical laughter bubbles from his chest as he stares at the sky.

I’m terrified.

I want Jayne.

I want to go home.

I close my eyes and focus on Jayne’s face. Her smile when she wakes in the morning. The soft touch of her hands when she braided my hair. The nights she’d cradle me in bed and remind me everything was all going to go away someday. I need her. I want her to cradle me now. Tell me
this
will all go away.

A smell of fresh paint makes me open my eyes. I’m no longer in the woods. But I’m not exactly sure where I am. I recognize the carpet, I think. I stare at the bare white walls and rust colored floor with bits of Cheetos, candy, and gum wrappers. It’s completely empty except for a few Legos in the corner along with an earring. Jayne’s earring. The indents on the carpet where furniture has been. Johnny kneeling over my dead body.

I’m in my room.

The puke stain on the wall is now a clean primer white.
How convenient.
I reach for the door handle, and quickly remember I don’t have to use it. I press through the wood and metal fibers, feeling all the processes they went through to become what they are.

I’m looking for Jayne.

She must have answers.

I make my way down the hall into the bathroom. Jayne is on the floor. She’s squeezed herself between the olive-green bathtub and toilet. Her knees crush into the gold speckled linoleum as she vomits. She lifts her head, that’s when I see it. A fat lip and bruised mouth.

She’s been hit.

I’m instantly next to her. I can taste the warm acid flavor in the back of her throat. It’s the least of my worries. I want to know who hit her.

“Jayne, open up to me,” I say, hoping she’ll let her guard down. She doesn’t. I’m frustrated. “Who did this to you.” I close my eyes and concentrate. She’s hiding something. But it’s not who hit her. It’s something different.

Her phone buzzes on the olive-green counter, next to all of Martha’s Wet 'n Wild make-up. It’s Johnny.

Her lip.

Anger rages through me. The picture is crystal clear. She fought him for a few of my things. He back handed her. She blames herself for making him upset.

I hate him.

So much it drips from my skin and I know I'm going to hell, but I don't care. I only want to take him with me.

There’s a light tap at the front door. There’s only one piece of crap who makes that sound. Jayne pushes up to her feet.

“No, Jayne. Don’t open the door for that dirt bag,” I beg. “Call the cops.”

She brushes past me, toward the kitchen and living room. I remain in the bathroom, staring in the mirror. No reflection. The blank image is a reminder of death. No existence. I can’t help her. I can’t help anybody. Jayne didn’t need me. I needed her. The sudden realization makes me think of Stephen and our forest.

What have I done?

Johnny’s voice lures me into the living room. He smells of cigarettes and booze. I back up, giving him and Jayne some space. He grabs her hips, pulling her close to him. She fights, but he’s too strong. She gives in like she’s always done. I hate knowing how things have been for her. Anger pounds in my head, the steady
thrum
of blood whooshing behind my eyes.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he says. “You know I’m just trying to help you and your family, right?”

She nods.

“The sooner we clean everything out, the sooner you guys can move on.” He leans forward to kiss her.

Go for it, dip face, enjoy the taste of vomit.

“I need to brush my teeth,” she says. “I haven’t been feeling well.”

“Baby, you need to get in bed. Let me take you to your bed.” Testosterone courses through his bloodstream. Gross. “Come on, Babe, let’s get you in bed.”

Fight him, Jayne. Make him go away.

“My mom is still awake,” she lies. “I have to help her get ready for bed.”

“Whatever.” He pushes her back, full force, and points his finger in her face. “I ain’t putting up with this shit for much longer. I’m not going to let you treat me like this.”

“Johnny—” she starts.

“No, Jayne. I’m sick of you feeling bad just so you can make me feel like this. And all I’m trying to do is help.” He twists the door handle.

“No, don’t go.” She grabs the front of his coat.

What the hell are you thinking? This guy is a creep.
For some strange reason, she’s afraid of being dumped. That’s the part she hides. A bulldozer couldn’t knock down the concrete walls guarding her secrets.

“You need to get your head on straight,” he says. “I’m trying to get you out of this trailer park and you thank me by acting like this. That don’t work for me, Jayne”

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I’m just having a hard time right now. It’s not your fault. I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to treat you like crap. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll call you in the morning,” he says before closing the door.

Just let him go home to his porn. That’s what he wants anyways.

Jayne runs to the bathroom. I follow her. She turns on the warm water and fogs the mirror as she squeezes the toothpaste from the bottom. She looks at herself in the mirror. Her limp, blond hair. Her hollow, bloodshot eyes. “What am I thinking?” She cries. “Jill, why did you leave me? I need you right now, more than I’ve ever needed anyone.”

My heart shatters as I watch her gag over brushing her teeth.

I’m right here, Jayne.
I place my hand on her back. She jerks at the sensation and looks around the room. Her lips turn into a smile and she laughs. “I swear it feels like you’re here standing right behind me like you always did. Like you never left.”

I am. I didn’t leave.

She moves into her bedroom and pulls the covers around her face. I sit next to her on the bed and stroke her skin.

Go to bed, Jayne, this will all go away in the morning.

I watch her eyes drift to the back of her head and smile. She’s at peace now. Tomorrow we’ll solve our little problem.

Eight

A thick sheet of ice covers the ground like a frozen blanket. Jayne slept through her alarm clock and now she’s rushing to work. Imagine that. I wonder who could’ve messed with the switch, I laugh to myself. This is exactly how I need her. Frantic. Not thinking straight. Running on adrenaline.

Inside the cab of her truck, I begin to speak out loud, hoping she’ll be more open today. “Jayne, I need you to stop by Sinclair and grab a Red Bull.” She scrunches her face. She hates energy drinks. “Jayne, I need you to listen.”

She’s shaking her head as she drives down the street, but she pulls into the gas station right up to the drive-thru, disgusted with herself.

“What can I get you, Sweetheart,” Beth says. I stare at her for a second. I miss Beth. Her eyes haunt me with the reality of how badly men treat her.
How had I never noticed that before?
“How’s your mother?” She asks Jayne, her soft voice full of sincerity and worry.

“She’s doing alright.” Jayne smiles. “How 'bout you?”

“I’m alright.” Beth replies, smiling wanly.

They both know what’s going on, but it’s not the time or place to chat. Jayne decides she’ll come in later for a pep talk. “When do you get off?”

“Not 'til midnight,” Beth grumbles. “I’m pulling a double shift. The cold weather always has employees calling in sick.”

“I’ll try and swing by,” Jayne says. “Can I grab a Red Bull?”

“Red Bull? You feeling okay?”

Jayne laughs. “I know, crazy. Woke up this morning with a craving.”

“That ain’t good.” Beth winks. “Give me a second.” She closes the little window and Jayne turns up the heater. When she returns they finish the little small talk and Jayne pays.

I purposely make Jayne hit three red lights so she can finish the drink and have it settle in. The delay irritates her, making her putty in my hands. The second I see the bank, I scoot forward on the bench seat, eagerly awaiting her confrontation with him. She flips on the blinker. This is it. My chance to get her to leave Johnny. It’s a public place. He can’t hurt her here.