Lit

by C. B. Wiant

  Ramona’s eyes plead. “You underwent a mental break Aviana, it’s ok to be confused.”

  “Do you have a joint?” I ask Hudson, ignoring one of the rules Ramona set forth for me. Though being honest, in this new day and age, weed is essentially legal.

  “Where is everyone?” Asks an individual stranded in the kitchen. We all turn on the same swivel. Terra wanders the kitchen tiles. The eight years served her well.

  Ramona hesitates, her eyes dance between Hudson and I. “I’m going to go inside and give you two a few minutes to speak privately.” The sliding door opens—before it closes Ramona adds, “Av, your brother called to check in on you. I told him I’d send his regards.”

  I thank her and go back to impatiently waiting for the joint.

  “You have a brother?” Hudson asks while sparking the rolled paper. The man still keeps a pre-rolled joint in a blunt wrapper tube. It’s not the same blue plastic I’m familiar with, it’s orange, almost a mustard color.

  “Onyx,” I say.

  Hudson releases the spark wheel. The fire dies before the flames caught on. “Onyx is your brother?”

  “No, Ramona assumed, and I never corrected.” I snatch the lighter and continue with the regularly scheduled program. “Listen, no one is hearing me out. And that’s fucking fine. Extrapolate all the psychoses you want. No one needs to hear me out as long as you can hear me now.”

  “I hear you.”

  The sliding door opens and Terra pops her head through the vacancy, “Babe, did you eat breakfast?” Before Hudson can reply I aggressively side the door closed. Terra’s nose is millimeters from being clipped.

  Terra smacks the glass. “Did you see that, Babe? Did you see it? Goddamnit Aviana. She’s a Goddamn crazy bitch.”

  I stare at Hudson with the same crossed arms as Terra. Say something.

  Ramona bustles from the direction of the bathroom, saving Hudson from having to defend one of us. Terra spews a handful more Goddamnits at my expense.

  Hudson waits to scold me until Ramona and Terra turn face. “Fuck, Av, did you really have to do that?”

  I don’t respond. I ash the joint, tap tap.

  “Av, not everyone can take you.”

  I pass him the clean joint.

  “And you’re not theirs to take.” He holds the joint up to his lips. The paper pauses. His hand is in a formulaic thinker’s pose. “You’re my Goddamnit Aviana and I’ll be God dammed if I have to share you again. And I don’t want to have to fucking explain you either.” He takes a hit ignoring my impatient hands. “I’ll take your damn. Give me all of you, give me every God damned thing about you Av.”

  “You say that with the same mouth that dines on Terra.” I snatch the joint back. Puff pass. I don’t have the fortitude for the puff puff pass.

  Hudson’s hands stretch and clench, “You were in the forest. I thought I lost you for good.”

  Smoke seeps out between my chapped lips. “You were behind me.”

  “No, I wasn’t. The mirrors coated black with Teflon after you stepped through.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. I saw you.” He was only a few yards behind me. I looked at him as if he were an oasis. My mouth waters at the recollection. I take another hit.

  His eyes go soft as I excavate the skeletal remains of the truth.

  I chisel, “I saw you.”

  “No, I wasn’t there. The mirrors coated black after you stepped through.” He repeats gently, like a brush that swipes dust and rock particles away from the large bones.

  “What does that even mean Hudson?”

  “I couldn’t follow you. I couldn’t get to you. Onyx still kept you from me. Do you honestly think I would fuck Terra if I knew you could be on the other side of the wall? Ramona never told me about the few weeks you were in the hospital. I lost you in the forest.”

  I feel too incredibly stabby right now.

  “The surfaces blacked out the moment you walked fully through the mirror.” Hudson takes a deep fortifying breath. “I fought and fought until Onyx and I laid bleeding and panting in a mixture of our blood. I couldn’t kill him because he had you, but he felt my pain. And he held it against me. He never relayed information on your whereabouts except that you were in the forest.”

  Hudson had to follow Onyx’s rules. Because that’s what one does during hostage situations? Right?… right?

  “How did you know it was Teflon?” I ask on an exhale of just carbon dioxide.

  “When we were down and drained in the white room, Onyx said we were in a nonstick box. Hungry and in too much pain to move, he said if you were still around, he’d ask you to use your fire skills to cook him two dippy eggs.”

  28

  Take a shot

  Hudson and Terra never broke up because they were never together. Their relationship was status fluid.

  “I hope it was all worth it,” Terra screamed in tears on Monday, the day they found out I still existed. Instead of Hudson driving her back to Columbus, she paid an exuberant amount of money to be driven out of the sticks. Hudson remained tethered to his phone that night. He paced his borrowed room of the farmhouse. I spent the night kneeling on my bed, ribs digging into the wrought-iron headboard with my ear plastered to the chipping wallpaper. I heard him pleading, “If you really loved me, you’d let me go.” Whatever her response was broke his phone. I barged into his room when I heard the collision. He stood, chest heaving, arms at his side and staring at the accused device. The screen disintegrated into tiny macramé webs. Terra’s contact image, her frozen grinning face on the screen, smiled splintered on the floor.

  Today, Tuesday, is equivalent to suffering from allergies with a face full of makeup—rubbing raw eyes and then forgetting about the tedious cosmetic application can ruin a day. I pass the brass Dr. Morgan nameplate nailed next to her office doorframe. My reflection marred its surface. Clean, but not so fresh.

  “Hello Aviana, you’re right on time.” Ramona sips her coffee with one hand and puts down a notepad with the other—in exchange for notes on me. My inventory is no longer taken in a spiral yellow notebook, but a soft black leather binder. I take a seat on the coach. Ramona’s office is a typical therapist’s office. There is a brown couch and three tweed pillows to clutch if desired. A desk angles out from the corner. Ramona wheels her office chair into her desk and takes the black leather binder with her as she reseats herself in an armchair across from me. The lights are soft; the walls are a creamy marmalade hue.

  “If you could wave a magic wand, what positive changes would you make in your life?” Ramona asks in her customary icebreaker fashion. Every visit is the same as the first day of school. Awkward small talk with icebreakers that only give the speaker comfort. It’s a classic maneuver, like telling someone you’re sorry for their loss. Death doesn’t parallel to loss. A human isn’t equivalent to lost keys. The apology is for the speaker. The recipient gets bereavement whiplash and has to struggle through the wave to respond. Keep your apology, don’t break the ice.

  “I have little control over my life right now, so I couldn’t make any changes, let alone positive changes with a magical wand.”

  Ramona nods, “If we could find ways to make the problem better-”

  “What problem?” I ask shaking my head, both upset with the question and perturbed I talked over Ramona. I stepped into her proverbial foothold trap. The spikes of the jaw clamp my ankle and hold me to her attention. I couldn’t help but bark a retort.

  “With Terra.” Ramona says like she needs to preface: “But of course you have a problem-”

  I rise, annoyed.

  “You can’t leave Aviana; you need to stay for the full session. I’ve discussed your treatment with Hudson—I believe we have a solid plan-”

  “You discussed my treatment,” I shriek. “What happened to patient confidentiality?”

  Ramona restarts, “Your situation-”

  I backpedal to the door.

  Ramona slips out of her professionalism
and says with a bit of a bite, “I will not chase you; this is not a behavior I’ll give attention too.”

  I leave. I remove myself from the office premises before the only female that can handle me aborts the mission. I enter the kitchen and see Hudson and Terra standing close enough to slow dance by the island.

  They both turn to acknowledge me, and while Hudson’s face lifts, Terra’s drops and pales.

  I walk over to them and open the fridge and remove a can of ginger ale. I walk away without saying a word and return with a confiscated bottle of Jameson and a shot glass. Jameson and I will work through this together, just like Jack and I have previously—before the Arena, before the dilapidated barn—back when the most convoluted aspect of my life was where is Hudson?

  Ramona stays in her office. I monitor her office door while I toss back two shots in quick succession.

  Terra whispers to Hudson, “Isn’t she supposed to be in therapy?”

  “Am I late to the party?” I’m asking Jameson.

  Hudson doesn’t have time to reply because Terra interjects, “This is all your fault.”

  I cheers to her response, tap the shot glass on the island, and shoot the liquid down my gullet. Not sure who’s fault she’s referencing—Hudson and I are both damaging. But I’ll take the hit.

  The bite of whiskey lets me go. “That’s what they all say,” I say.

  “We were happy-.”

  “I know, I heard you fucking.” I take another shot.

  Terra turns, horrified, in Hudson’s direction, “You told her!”

  She wasn’t listening, and I’m not correcting. Hudson opens his mouth to express words when Terra slams down her vocals, “I can’t believe you would talk to her about us! After everything that I’ve done for you—what we’ve been through. You seriously will throw our relationship away—for her.” She points accusingly at me as if we desire clarification. Her.

  I take another shot. Terra is just like Karen, the bitch who tells you to pull the door when you attempted to push in error. It doesn’t matter that the door clearly reads ‘pull,' I push. She’s the individual who assumes they’re helping; ‘you have to pull’. Obviously pulling is the only other mechanical option, no one will try to lift the door like a trunk to a hatchback. Fuck off, Karen. You don’t know me. I’d rather break through glass than listen to Terra for a directive.

  “I’m not abandoning you.” Torment bleeds through Hudson’s vowels, extending his drawl.

  “Is this because I hover? I won’t spaz if you don’t reply right away. I swear to God, Hudson, I’ll be better. I can change.” She pushes her sleeves up like her personality is a literal construction project.

  Hudson lowers his head, “I don’t want you to change.” He can’t lose her. I see the desperation in the fine thread between them. But she’s insecurity driven. And I’m too defiant. Someone will leave here crying.

  “You just don’t want me.” It’s not a question, but a statement. Her eyes shine and widen. Her expression is childlike in fear of not being picked. The possibility was never plausible. Their relationship was a marathon. Always has been—Always Hudson & Terra. Her eyes well with un-shed tears. She thought their relationship was experiencing shin splints. Common enough concern. She tried to cover too much ground too fast. She demanded too much of him. Add in my reappearance—Hudson is switching directions on Terra. There was no stretching. Zero preparations.

  Harsh truths make everyone uncomfortable. I take half a shot and give the backwash half to Hudson. He pounds it and pours himself a fresh shot and tosses it back.

  Terra straightens her stance. She is not worn-out. Her eyes dry with determination. She can go the distance—it’s only shin splints. She languidly stretches to Hudson. “No one will love you like I will. I’m your first love.”

  Gah, the hearts and flowers of Terra makes me nauseous. She’s envisioning herself in a different romance.

  Her hand holds onto his bicep. She squeezes. Her fingers impress into his muscle. “She has no family. No one cares about her. She’s been on the run for eight years and shows up at a mental facility under a different name. She’s nothing but a liar. You can’t trust her.”

  Hudson crosses his arms, keeping his hands to himself. Yet he’s listening to her.

  “And you bend to her will?” Terra’s palm slides down his bicep to slip into the crook of his elbow. “You want to be there for her, but who will be there for you Hudson?” She pulls her lips to his ear, “Who will take care of you?”

  I take another shot.

  “She doesn’t talk, and when she does she’s fucking hostile. Why would you even want to deal with her?” Terra lowers her heels back to ground level. “She’s more of a headache than what she’s worth. She’s too strange, she doesn’t belong with you.” She takes a step back, severing their connection.

  I want to grab her throat and ask her how much it hurts.

  Terra moves to stand in front of him—she’s changing her angle; she’s no longer comforting but confronting. “She needs medication and more help than you can provide.”

  “Terra-” Hudson starts.

  She injects, “Hell, Ramona can’t keep her in line—Hudson, you’ve told me yourself that she’s fucking crazy.”

  I swing heavy-handed—a baseball bat to Terra’s perfectly blushed cheek.

  Terra flinches. I smile like the Cheshire cat and connect with Hudson’s shoulder. He moved to intercept, a classic martyr shift on his part. I should have anticipated him wanting to take the hit.

  I drop my fist, my fingers still clutch tight. My fingernails dig half-moons in my palm.

  “You think I don’t know those things?” My breath rages out between my teeth.

  “I know about you too Terra. You may be an only child, but you have parents. You have some form of additional family—more of your people. You must have a friend outside of Hudson. I’ll befriend all of them. I’ll show up at your holiday dinners. I’ll go to sports games. I will infiltrate your life. Do you want that? I’ll show you crazy. Is that what you want? Keep talking, I’ll take your family apart limb from limb, all generations. ONE MORE FUCKING WORD.”

  Terra’s mouth pops open with letter formations.

  “Don’t tempt me with a good time.” I step back from Hudson. He doesn’t need to hold me back.

  Terra storms out of the farmhouse, slamming the door in her wake.

  “Don’t slam doors!” Ramona hollers from behind her closed office door. I snicker.

  Hudson takes the Jameson and drinks a healthy amount. He lowers the bottle to his side and takes Jameson with him outside. Distraught and alone, I follow the men in my life into the burning sun. Hudson’s at Terra’s driver’s side door. She drove herself today. Her window is up and her vehicle’s gears are grinding as she attempts manually shifting in her breakdown.

  “Don’t drive off like this,” Hudson says to the glass. Tears stripe Terra’s face. She’s barely functioning.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  The glass doesn’t respond. The glass doesn’t capitulate to his pleas. Terra can’t have his words. Dust plumes. Her vehicle skids on the gravel and runs mere millimeters from driving over Hudson’s foot. My toes instinctively curl against my soles.

  Hudson and I watch the dust settle as if we’re in an Old Western. When he finally turns to face me, anger spreads like a wildfire.

  “I’m your God damn Aviana, right?” This is me. I’m a fire. Any extra breath inflames me. You want this?

  He drives his fingers through his wild hair and turns back in the direction Terra departed. The road traveled is empty. Jameson is still at his side, ever the companion.

  The front door opens. Ramona steps out. She shields her eyes from the sun’s rays. “Here you guys are.”

  “Here we are.” I mimic.

  Ramona walks off the front stoop and enters our scene. “What are you guys doing out here?”

  I shrug, “Just seeing Terra off.”

  Hu
dson laughs. Not because I’m funny, but because he should’ve known. I’m destructive. I load up the gun and force Russian Roulette on everyone. Bang bang.

  Ramona walks to stand shotgun from my perspective. “Aviana, are you okay?” We’re both watching Hudson. He puts down the Jameson bottle, the cap rests against the front door.“Is he okay?” Ramona asks me.

  “No, no, we’re not okay.” I turn to Ramona, “And that’s okay.”

  Hudson storms over to me, “We’re going to talk.” He grabs my arm, and all but shoves me in the cab of his truck. The framing rocks when he throws himself in the driver’s seat. He slams the door shut. I look for the window crank and realize he’s upgraded his truck. I press the button to lower the window and wave at Ramona. Gravel spews from beneath the tires.

  Ramona pulls her cellphone from behind her back. She holds it up to her ear. I watch her curse in the rearview mirror because Hudson’s broke his phone and I don’t own one.

  I lean out the window and enjoy the breeze. We drive out of the country and into the city. It’s like I’m interacting with the very first Hudson I encountered. He’s scared and tightening the reins on our environment; he’s losing control, so he’s controlling.

  We park in Kroger’s parking lot—the local supermarket in town. The backdrop is a hospital. Across the street is another grocery store. There are three gas stations within walking distance. Mothers cart small children with bows in their hair and sparkly shoes. I’m sure the hospital only services babies and Band-Aids.

  “They pulled me out of the Arena after the First Watch,” Hudson says. He unbuckles his seat belt and twists towards me.

  And it connects—Hudson was the Beast that saved me and murdered everyone that attacked me. He saved me but he didn’t rescue me because I also remember, “You made a deal?” I turn so that my back is against the interior of the passenger door. I pull my feet up and rest my chin on my knees.

  He nods, “If you lived, I would serve them.”

  “Who’s them?” I lean forward.