Jack and Djinn

by Amber Sweetapple

  She clutched Jack’s arm, watching him get excited as the game progressed. He held her hand, sat with his arm around her shoulders, showed her affection for which she was starved. She felt something burgeoning inside her, a sense of contentment, strong and warm and all-enveloping, threatening to overwhelm her, filling her heart to bursting in her chest. Her instinct, when faced by such strong, positive feelings, was to shut down, to run away: such things never lasted. Jack would turn on her. There would be a moment of frustration, and he would scream at her, or raise his hand, maybe not actually hitting her, but the threat would be there.

  She fought the urge to create a situation where it would happen, just to get it out of the way. Once he turned, she could go back to her life as it was, painful and difficult, but familiar. She knew what to expect and how to deal with what came. Jack never responded the way she expected, never treated her in a way she understood. It scared her. The unfamiliar scared her; not knowing where things stood or where they were going was terrifying.

  Jack must have sensed her introspective mood, for he sat down despite the standing, cheering crowd around him. “What’s up, buttercup?” His tone was light but his eyes conveyed a serious concern.

  “Nothing.” He smirked and rolled his eyes. She should have known better than to think he’d buy that.

  He leaned close, his arm around her shoulders. “If you don’t want to talk about it, then say so. If you want to go, we can go. But don’t feed me the ‘it’s nothing’ B.S. when I can clearly see it’s not nothing.”

  She searched him for signs of frustration or irritation. The crowd around them was going crazy, but Jack seemed to have forgotten the game entirely. “You’ll laugh. You’ll tell me I’m being ridiculous.”

  “You probably are, but that’s no reason to discount how you’re feeling.” He finished his beer, tugging her hand to lead her up the steps and out to the concourse. The roar of the crowd was still loud, but distant. Clumps of people came and went through the concourse, buying snacks and beer, balancing cups and bags, laughing and talking and oblivious to Miriam and Jack. She watched the people come and go, trying to sort out what she was feeling and how to communicate it.

  “I’m not used to having a good time, I guess. I mean, I’ve had fun. It’s not like I live every day hating my life and moping around. And it’s not like Ben is always horrible all the time, either. He can be charming. It’s just getting less and less frequent, these days. He’s changing. The good times used to outweigh the bad, which is why I’ve stayed with him for three years. But recently he’s been drinking more, and that always leads to things getting bad.

  “Listen to me. I’m sure this is the last thing you want to hear about. I’m sorry.”

  Jack shook his head, squeezed her hand. “No, please, keep talking. This is important to you. It’s part of you. Do I like hearing about Ben? No, of course not. I wish I could just…snap my fingers and make him go away so I can have you all to myself. But listen, you have to make your own decisions, for yourself. I’m not just assuming you’ll dump Ben and be with me. Obviously, I’m hoping you will, but even that is complicated. I want you to leave him for you, not just because I want to be with you.”

  Well there was transparency for you. Miriam pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the hooks of affection and desire dig deeper into her heart. “I don’t know what to do, Jack. I honestly don’t. You’re so…I don’t know…so much more than I know how to deal with. I never know what to expect with you. You never act like any guy I’ve ever dated, and it’s confusing.”

  “Well I’ll take that as a compliment, then. But I’m not trying to confuse you, I promise.”

  “I know. And it is a compliment. I can’t just break up with Ben, though. It’s more complex than that. He won’t let it go. I’m honestly afraid of what he’d do. I’ve said all this before. I want to be with you, too, please know that. But I can’t just wave a magic wand and make it happen all easy and simple.” Miriam watched Jack process this, thinking about it before responding.

  “Okay, listen. Lemme put it this way. I’m here for you. No matter what. I want you to be happy. If you decide to stay with Ben,” this was hard for him to say, clear in the way he bit the words off as if they tasted bitter, “then I’ll respect that. But if you need time to figure things out, I’ll wait. I want as much time with you as I can get, in any way I can get it. And if you decide to leave him, I promise you, I will protect you, no matter what.”

  This worked the hooks even deeper, pulling her to him, into his arms. “You’ll protect me?” His hands went around her waist, resting with familiar affection on the swell of her hips.

  “Yes, Miriam, I will protect you. You don’t have to be afraid of him.” This brought a hard knot of emotion into her throat and set her eyes to burning. Tears welled up, stinging salt running down her cheeks, brought by a simple statement, said as if it were obvious, like she should have known he would protect her. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world, rather than a foreign concept.

  Jack pulled her close to him, standing with his legs spread wide and his arms wrapped tight around her, her body pressed against him. She wanted to believe him. She nearly did. It would be so wonderful to just pretend that Jack really could protect her from Ben, if she were to do the unthinkable and leave him. She laid her head against Jack’s chest, imagining it: telling Ben, I don’t want to be with you anymore, please leave me alone. Oh god, the thought was frightening. He would be confused at first, then disbelieve her, thinking she was joking. Then when he realized she was serious, he’d get angry. So angry. So violent. And Jack wouldn’t be there, would he? He couldn’t just stand next to her as she broke up with Ben. How could he protect her, then? He would find a way, something told her.

  She looked up at Jack, her chin on his chest, her arms on the back of his shoulders. He smiled at her, a reassuring, tender smile that broke down her walls, one brick at a time. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, a hesitant, questioning touch, asking permission. The featherlight tingle of his lips against hers sent butterflies trembling down her spine to flutter in her stomach, fanning the flames buried within her into life. She lifted up on her toes to deepen the kiss, putting her hands in his hair at the back of his head; this seemed to impassion him, turn him wild with desire.

  He slid his hand down to cup her backside and lift her up, easily and effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his hips, felt a rush of magic torch through her, trickling along her skin and setting the fine hairs to stand on end, filling her with a pressure needing release; the blaze of power expanded and burned hotter with every second that he kissed her, holding her aloft against him. She clutched him with her thighs, feeling eyes on them but not caring. She was on the verge of detonation, the welling pool of energy demanding to be vented; she pulled her lips from him and breathed out, let the power slip from her with an exhaled breath.

  Through half-open eyes she saw a stream of glowing golden particles flow from her mouth and spread out into a cloud, roiling and billowing in the air around them, still expanding. People walked straight through it, not seeing anything, it seemed. The cloud hovered in place for a moment, then burst apart and scattered throughout the stadium, darting here and there as if sentient. Where the fragments of magic touched, odd things happened: cups of beer split apart to spill over their owners, cigarettes illicitly smoked flared into sudden torches, pop machines sent floods of soda pouring out of nozzles, beer taps opened and frothy beer scudded and splashed, lightbulbs burst with a machine-gun poppoppop, and the stadium floodlights exploded with a shower of sparks and flying glass. People screamed and scattered as the stadium went dark.

  “Did you do that?” Jack whispered.

  Miriam nodded her head, “I think I did.” She heard herself giggle, actually giggle.

  “No shit. Well, maybe we should get out of here?”

  Miriam nodded again. “Sorry about the game,” she said as they exited Comerica Park just ahead of the crow
d.

  “Eh, it’s fine. We were losing anyway.” Miriam felt guilty, knowing she had probably just caused several thousand dollars worth of damage with that little display. Jack drove her home, giving her his jacket to wear against the chill of the night wind, his hand on her knee rather than the gear shifter. She left it there, toying with the zipper of his jacket, wondering what other chaos she would cause with the magic that seemed to be waiting just beneath the surface all the time now.

  Jack kissed her goodbye, a brief brush of lips, too quick and then gone. She wanted to let the kiss ignite again, but he pulled away first, brushing her cheek with a thumb. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Was that a hint of fear in his eyes? She couldn’t be sure, and didn’t want it to be there. But then, he would be prudent to be afraid of her. She was beginning to be afraid of herself, if she was honest.

  * * *

  Miriam managed to avoid Ben for a while longer by ignoring his calls, switching shifts, and calling in sick a couple times. Larry understood what Miriam wanted without her having to spell it out, for which she was grateful. She knew she’d have to face him eventually, but the longer she could put it off, the better. Ben wouldn’t take being broken up with very well. He’d probably try to convince her not to, and if he was sober, it would be that much harder. It’d be easier if he was drunk, if not more painful.

  He finally showed up at her apartment late one night and pounded on her door so hard she thought he was going to break it down. She went out rather than letting him inside.

  “Where the fuck have you been, Miriam?” he demanded. “You ignore my calls, avoid me at work? What the hell?” He was sober, but livid, a bad combination. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to his car, shoved her in the passenger side, nearly bashing her head on the side in the process.

  “I needed space, Ben. I still do.” She moved to get out, but he locked the door and gunned the engine so she couldn’t get out without hurting herself.

  “Space? What the fuck do you need space for? You’re the freak, remember?”

  “Wow, Ben. Awesome. How loving and supportive of you. I’m a freak, now?”

  He had the grace to look chagrined, at least. “I’m sorry, okay? That part was uncalled for. But you’ve been acting a little strange lately, and besides that, my skin is still sore from the other night, when you turned all hot. What the hell is up with that, anyway?”

  “I don’t know, Ben. If I knew, I wouldn’t need space, would I? And you being a pissy little bitch about it isn’t helping.” She found herself not caring what he did or said. She had decided to break it off with him, no matter what, and that freed her tongue, somewhat. That, and she expected to get hit at least once.

  “Whoa! Where’s this coming from?” He genuinely seemed surprised at her outburst. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never talked back like that. Miriam was enjoying the sense of freedom she got from letting him know how she felt.

  “It’s the truth, Ben,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, okay? It’s scary for me and it would be nice if you could act like my boyfriend for once, and support me through it. Instead, all you seem to care about is yourself. You drive around in this stupid goddamn car like you earned it or something.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense, Miri.” Ben was getting worried now, she could tell. He never called her Miri unless he was trying to be all lovey-dovey. He was also taking corners at high speed, squealing the tires.

  “I’m talking about your new phone and this stupid car. Where the hell do you think they came from? Stuff like this doesn’t just magically appear, Ben. Except it did, didn’t it? Who do you think made that happen?” She knew she shouldn’t make the connection for him, but her mouth was going faster than her good sense.

  Ben jammed the brakes, skidding to a stop in the middle of the street, cars honking and flashing their lights as they swerved around him. “You think YOU caused this?”

  “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. But it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “So you’re a fucking genie now? And you know when it happens? When we’re in bed. So what you’re saying is, if I do you real good, expensive shit just magically appears? Nice, Miriam. You’ve finally lost your actual damn mind.”

  “You know what Ben? Fuck you. And the sex? It’s not real good. It’s shitty. You have to get me drunk for me to even enjoy it.”

  Crack. She didn’t even see his fist move. She felt it though, like a ton of bricks. Her head snapped back and slammed into the car window. She felt sticky warmth gushing from her nose and trickling down the back of her head. She pinched her nose and peered at Ben through throbbing eyes, but he was driving again, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He jerked the car around corners, driving suicidally fast through the ever-busy streets of downtown Royal Oak.

  He pulled the car into a deserted parking lot, threw open his door and circled around to the passenger side. Miriam knew what was coming and tried to lock the door, but it was too late. He had her door open and yanked her out, and this time she saw his left fist flying at her too fast to duck, crashing into her cheekbone and toppling her backwards. Madness burned in his eyes, an unseeing haze of hatred and violence seething within him. His fist bunched in her shirtfront and held her up, the other fist crashing and bashing into her, face and chest and stomach, over and over and over, an ocean of pain rolling over her, subsuming her, drowning her, burying her beneath its suffocating weight. She retreated into herself, locked the core of her soul away and allowed the pain to scorch away what remained. One last blow struck her head, and the fires within her burst open and set her alight. She was flame, she was burning, a living torch kneeling collapsed on the gravel of the parking lot. Ben was stumbling away, cursing and shielding his face with his arms. Miriam looked up through the flames erupting from her skin and saw Ben, his arms and hair singed and smoking, frantically patting out a flicker of fire on his shirt. Miriam held up a hand in front of her, marveling at what she saw: there was no skin, no bones, no blood, only fire, her hand carved out of flame. She sobbed, and she was extinguished. It was only a moment, an instant of flame gone as quickly as it had come, so fast that she wasn’t sure it was real.

  Ben stared at her, shaking his head as if in denial. Whether he was denying what he’d done, or what he’d just seen, she wasn’t sure. Both, maybe. She stood up and lurched toward him, glimpsing herself in the window of his car. She was unrecognizable, her face pummeled into a bloody pulp. Ben threw himself into his car and tore out of the parking lot, sideswiping several other cars in the process. Miriam took another step forward toward the street, watching his taillights weaving through traffic. The sea of pain, momentarily pushed away by the ignition of flames, washed back through her, and she collapsed. She saw headlights sweep over her, heard voices speaking far away. Feet crunched in the gravel and hands lifted her. The motion sent a lance of agony through her, and darkness devoured her.

  * * *

  She woke up to the smell of antiseptic. She felt an I.V. in her arm, and there were bandages on her face and wrapped around her skull. Hospital. Shit. Miriam hated hospitals. She had no health insurance, so this would ruin her financially. She moaned and tried to sit up. The attempt sent knives of pain throughout her body, and she slumped back to the bed.

  “Don’t try to move,” a familiar and welcome voice said. Jack. She felt relief course through her at the sound of his voice.

  She pried her eyes open, saw his face next to hers, worry etched on his features. “Is it really you?”

  “Of course it’s me,” he said. He brushed her arm with his fingers, a touch gentle as a breath of wind.

  “How are you here?”

  “I went to see you at your apartment, and you weren’t there, so I talked to Larry. Apparently you have him listed as your emergency contact, so the hospital called him when you were brought here. He said you’d been in an ‘accident.’ “ Jack made air quotes on the last word, rage in his eyes.


  “Jack, it’s okay–”

  “The hell it is! It’s not okay! He nearly killed you, Miriam. What’s it going to take?”

  “I was trying to break up with him and this is what happened.”

  “Did you? Break up with him?” Jack was holding her hand, fingers twined in hers, an intimate gesture that she found deeply comforting.

  “Well, we didn’t actually get to that. He got pissed off before I could bring it up, and then I got mad back at him, and said something that made him snap.”

  “What the hell could you say that would make him snap like this?”

  Miriam hesitated. What the hell, she thought. Might as well have it all out there. “You want the truth, Jack? We were arguing about the whole weird-stuff-happening thing.” Jack looked puzzled for a moment, and she withdrew her hand, twisted a strand of her hair as she spoke, looking down at the sheet covering her. “He is my boyfriend, so we, you know, sleep together. You felt what happens when I get…excited. Well, the last time we were, you know, together, my skin got so hot it burned him. Like, badly. Strange things have been happening when my skin does that. Things…appear. The first time it was a cell phone. It just appeared, and Ben’s old one vanished. All of his info was in it, as if he’d always had it. Then, the last time, a Maserati appeared, if you can believe it. And like the phone, it was registered to him, with insurance and all that, legally, as if he’d always owned it. It’s all just so weird, and I don’t know what’s causing it. It all just…started, all of a sudden.

  “Well, after you left my place the other day, after the game, I avoided Ben for a while, and he didn’t like it. I also think he knows about us, somehow. Not about you, specifically, but that there’s someone. He was too angry for it to be just about me avoiding him. Anyway, we started talking about that…skin thing, whatever you want to call it, and he called me a freak. And I kind of snapped. He was saying awful things. I told him he was shitty in bed, and I had to be drunk to enjoy it with him. And that’s when he snapped.”