My eyes land on my phone next to my table as I climb into bed. I want to call Bobby. I don’t want us to end. I don’t know what we even are to one another, but when he walked away today, the earth fell from under my feet. He is the only security I have in this world. I can’t lose him.
Do I fight my fear? Triumph the terror wracking my mind and soul and gamble on the chance that Bobby can reset it all, make me forget my past and actually restart and build a life without being afraid? Or do I do what I know best, resisting, and run home behind my door with the security of three deadbolts and wonder what if?
I have tried therapy, tried stupid medications to overcome what scares me every day, hoping one day, I can find a great guy and extend our little family, but none of it ever works. I have nothing because of the terror that lives within me, and I have no idea how to get rid of it. But Bobby, he wants to help me. He wants to make me better. But how? How can he make it better when nobody else can? He doesn’t even know why I am the way I am. I sigh, close my eyes, and feel the loneliness creep into my soul.
Bobby
I roll a joint, trying to escape the thoughts of Jessica plaguing my mind. I reach for my lighter as my cell phone rings, stopping me. I fish out my phone instead of the lighter, and answer it.
“What do you want to know?” Jessica asks, her voice soft and shaky. I drop my joint to the floor, my mouth parting in shock. Did I hear her right? I have tried to get information about Jessica’s past for years, and here she is asking me what I want to know, like an open book. I run my hands through my hair and sit up straight in my chair. Why is she wanting to tell me now? Is my walking away a big deal for her, too?
“Why are you willing to tell me now after all these years?” I question. I have to know. I need to know what’s different.
I hear her inhale through the phone as she prepares for her reply.
“Because, you’re the only person who might be able to free me from my past, from the fear that plans my daily agenda. I trust you,” she replies. I nod, knowing exactly what she means. Even with me not knowing a lot about Jessica, she is always safe with me. I could never fully walk away from her, even if I really wanted to, and it really pisses me off sometimes.
“I want to know where the marks on your back came from. Why they are there. I want to know why you sleep with me in only one position and with the lights off. I want to know why you are so afraid of living.” The questions that have played through my mind every time I see Jessica spill from my mouth uncontrollably.
I hear her choke as a sniffle sounds through the speaker. I hear her breaking, making me second-guess this whole thing. Jessica is a strong woman. I haven’t heard her this wrecked since the day she showed up at the club, it guts me.
“Why, why do you want to know those things so badly, Bobby?” she whispers painfully.
“I killed a man for a woman I knew nothing about; still don’t. But with killing him, I thought I would save you, set you free, Jessica, but I didn’t. Something still haunts you,” I answer grimly.
She sniffles through the phone, her breathing trembling in short spurts.
“Let’s start out small. How did you meet your ex-husband?” I ask, trying to ease her into the difficult memories. The line is quiet, making me wonder if she hung up.
“Travis wasn’t always a monster. I loved him at one point,” she laughs bitterly. “That’s what makes it so difficult. You really think you know someone, only to discover you were so fucking wrong.”
I have come across a few people like that inside the club before, so I know where she is coming from.
“I understand that, believe me,” I mutter.
“My father was an ambitious man, wanted what was best for the family. I was to walk in his footsteps joining only the best of the medical practices in the state. But that all took flight when my father met Travis Norwell.” Her words grit with anger as she says her ex-husband’s name. “Travis was my father’s golden ticket to the board of the most prestigious hospital in the state. Gone with what was best for his daughter and family. The only thing that mattered was what was better for him. He told me I would marry Travis, and do my family the honor of taking on the Norwell name. When I met Travis, he was strikingly good looking, smart, and very kind. I could do a lot worse, so I didn’t resist. Things became serious between us over the summer. I was very inexperienced, where he wasn’t. We grew hot and heavy for one another quickly. After some short months of puppy love, we decided to get married,” she replies, her tone a little less strained. Travis sounds like a fucking Ken doll. Where did it all go wrong?
“Where did the marks on your back come from?” I question, jumping forward. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the marks aren’t from the husband.