Jack and Djinn

by Amber Sweetapple

  Jack didn’t seem to know how to respond. There was hurt in his eyes, and she knew she’d put it there. He looked away, and Miriam felt him withdrawing. Knowing she slept with Ben was one thing, but to have her talk about it like that…apparently it was too much. She closed her eyes, holding back tears. Miriam felt her walls clanking into place, rebuilding. She should’ve just lied to him.

  She felt a finger brush away a tear she didn’t know had escaped. She felt lips touch hers, almost too gently to feel. She hesitated, confused, feeling the walls wavering, wanting to believe what she felt but unable to. He was gone, wasn’t he? Hadn’t he walked out, never to return? How could he still care for her? His hand curled around the back of her neck, just below the bandage, pulled her to him, and she couldn’t help but kiss him back.

  Jack broke away after a moment and his eyes pierced hers, full of understanding and something frighteningly like love. “Good for you,” he said. Not what she was expecting him to say. He laughed, and explained. “I mean, it was probably not the smartest thing to say to him, considering you’re in the hospital. But still, good for you.”

  “It’s not over, Jack.” She’d seen the flash of love in Jack’s eyes, and it scared her to death. She didn’t know how to deal with that. She wanted it, but felt terrified by it at the same time. Her fear spoke through her. “He’s going to come here. He’ll apologize and be all charming. And besides, telling him I’m breaking up with him doesn’t mean he’ll just go away. It’s not that easy.”

  “So have him arrested! Tell the hospital he’s the one who beat the shit out of you and you don’t want him in here.”

  “It’s not that simple, Jack. He’ll spend one night in jail, if that. Then he’ll just be even more upset. And PPOs aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on, when it comes to actual protection. I know, I’ve looked into it. And besides all that, I have to leave the hospital. Like, now. I don’t have health insurance, and every moment I sit here is costing me thousands of dollars I don’t have, and will never have. And he’ll find me, and…”

  “So…” Jack searched for an answer, found none. “I don’t know. Move, or something.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go, Jack. I have no family, no friends anywhere except here. If I move, he’ll find me. He’ll follow me, and it’ll start all over again.”

  “So you’re just gonna stay with him? Just like that? You’ll just let him beat the shit out of you? He’s going to kill you, Miriam. The beating he gave you last night should have killed you, the doctors say. It’s only a matter of time.” Jack was pacing, frustration eating away at him.

  “I know, Jack. I know. I wish I had the answers, believe me. But it’s not that simple. You think I like getting the shit beat out of me? You think I don’t want, god, more than anything to just run away with you? You’re this amazing guy, and you…you deserve someone who can love you back. I don’t know if I can. Not with Ben in the way. And he’ll always be in the way.”

  Jack slumped to the chair and took her hands in his. “So let me protect you. I can, and I will. I can take care of Ben.” He avoided her use of the word ‘love’ but she knew he’d heard it. It seemed to panic him a little too.

  “No, Jack. I don’t doubt that you would, or could. But I won’t have you getting hurt for me.”

  He hung his head, cursing in a stream of hissed words under his breath. “You’re determined to make this impossible, aren’t you? You’re afraid of what we could have, so you won’t even try.” The last was a statement, resigned and troubled. He met her gaze, squeezed her hands, kissed her lightly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Miriam. I’m not giving up. There’s a way for this to work, I know there is. If you’d just give me a chance…” He was nearly pleading, but silently. His eyes were begging her to give him the answer he wanted.

  Miriam tried, but all she could see was Jack in this hospital bed, bruised and bloody and broken. She was already healing, she could feel it, but Jack wouldn’t have that, and she couldn’t deal with him being hurt for her sake. She looked away from Jack’s gaze, shook her head. Tears dripped from her chin, and she refused to wipe them away.

  Jack did it for her, took her face in both hands, wiped the tears with his thumbs, kissed her lips with a trembling intensity, struggling to be gentle but wanting to crush her with passion. Her cracked heart broke further when he walked away without looking back. She opened her eyes, and Jack was gone.

  Alone, Miriam wept until there was nothing left inside.

  * * *

  Ben came as she was pulling out the IV. A nurse was standing at the doorway, looking on disapprovingly. Miriam had explained that she couldn’t afford to stay, and that she felt better. Her doctor had come and examined her after Jack left, and was puzzled by how fast her bruises were fading. Her ribs were still cracked and sending lances of pain through her at every breath, but she refused to stay.

  “Miriam,” Ben started, “Look, I’m–I don’t know what happened–”

  She whirled on him, eyes blazing. “You don’t know what happened? You fucking snapped, is what happened, you bastard!” The nurse, still watching, gasped and scurried away, calling for security.

  Two overweight security guards appeared at the door. “Is everything okay, ma’am?” one of them said.

  Miriam took a deep breath, waved them away. If she tried to have them remove Ben, he’d flip out, and Miriam was too tired and sore to deal with that. “It’s fine. It’s not what it looks like.”

  The nurse, a middle-aged black woman, gaped in disbelief. “That’s a bunch of bull, honey, and you know it. This A-hole here worked you over but good, and you can’t try and tell me otherwise.” Ben rounded on the nurse, and Miriam grabbed his arm, pushed him out of the hospital room, following behind him.

  “It’s none of your business, lady,” Miriam said, wanting nothing more than to stay and make them take Ben away.

  “Your funeral, if you go with him,” the nurse said, following them. “Foolish girl! He’s gonna kill you, sooner or later. I saw you when you came in, sweetheart. You were half-dead, and it wasn’t no accident, neither.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Miriam knew it was lie.

  “Your funeral,” the nurse repeated. She didn’t seem surprised, though. Perhaps she’d seen more than her share of battered women come through the hospital and leave with the men who’d put them there, denying the whole thing.

  Once out of the hospital and in Ben’s car, Miriam felt the reality of what she was doing rush in on her. Ben was still seething, deep down. He was here because he felt bad on the surface, but she could sense his anger. She was being stupid, and she knew it. But she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She was back to what she knew. This was familiar. This was easiest.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Miri. Really. I overreacted. I’m sorry.” Miriam huffed a laugh, but otherwise stayed silent. “Okay, fine then. You don’t have to talk to me. Are you hungry?” Miriam just shrugged. Ben rolled his eyes, and checked his phone.

  “Fine,” he said. “Be that way. I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?”

  “Like that fixes it?” Miriam knew better than to expect true contrition from him.

  “Well what do you want from me? I said I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.” He was heading up I-75 towards Troy, going 95 in the fast lane. Miriam felt a wave of disgust as she realized where he was taking her.

  “Whatever,” she said. “I don’t want steak, Ben. Can we go somewhere else, please?”

  “You love Ruth’s Chris, don’t you?”

  Miriam wanted to laugh and cry. This was not the conversation she wanted to have. She was still fighting the agony of bruised ribs, and her eyes were still purple from his fists, but all he could think about was steakhouses. Nothing had changed, and never would.

  Jack was gone.

  She just shook her head, choking back a sob. “Whatever Ben. Whatever you want is fine.” The sense of entrapment washed over her, making her want to jump o
ut of the car. It’d be so easy, wouldn’t it? She watched her hand inching towards the door handle, helpless to stop it. That was one way out of this. Her fingers found the cool silver of the handle, pushed the door open. Blacktop and yellow lines blurred in the crack between door and handle; she heard Ben yelling next to her, but his words were buzzed and muddled and distant. All she had to do was jump, and she would be free. There was nothing between her and the freeway. The freeway. Free.

  Free.

  Miriam pushed the door open wider and leaned out, feeling the wind buffeting at her, snatching and tangling her hair. Freedom would come quickly.

  Chapter 9: Now

  Carson sat across from Rhonda Grimes in the Detroit Mercy Hospital cafeteria. The styrofoam cup of black coffee was hot in his hands, and he listened carefully as Rhonda spoke.

  “She was beat senseless, Detective. I ain’t kiddin’. I was just startin’ a double shift when she was brought in.”

  “Who brought her in?” Carson asked.

  “Some guy. No one she knew. He said she just about collapsed in front of his car, bleedin’ all over the place. He thought she was gonna die in his car, he said. Well, she shoulda died, honestly. Most of her ribs were broke, both eyes black, cheekbones cracked, back of her head busted open. She had a concussion, for sure. We were gonna do an MRI once she woke up, but she had to okay the procedure since she had no next of kin and no insurance. She was bruised all over, and I mean all over. I remember thinkin’ when I first saw her, man, whoever done this to her hated her. I seen a lot in my thirty years at this hospital. I seen boys gang-beat and curb-stomped and hit with bats and shot…shit, you’re a cop, you know what happens. This girl was beat to death, only she didn’t die.”

  Carson nodded. He’d seen a woman beaten to death by a jealous boyfriend before, and the image was one he couldn’t banish. He’d seen his share of awful things, of course. The worst thing he’d seen, however—the one memory he still had nightmares about had had happened when he was eighteen, long before he ever joined the DPD. It was the day before he left for college. He’d had a full-ride to Michigan State, football and wrestling. He’d been All-State twice in high school in both sports. Bags packed, car ready. He’d heard his mom yelling, and he’d thought, not again. “Shut up, Mom,” he’d whispered. Just shut up. Don’t piss him off.

  She’d pissed him off. He was drunk. Two o’clock in the afternoon, and Don Hale was hammered. Disability had run out, but his Navy retirement package hadn’t, so Don Hale stayed home drinking all day. Judith Hale knew how to piss Don off, and if she was drunk, she found amusement in pushing his buttons. Most days it ended with a backhand and Judith retreating to her sister’s house. Sometimes it went further. This day, the day before Carson escaped it all, it went further than ever. Carson heard screams, heard his father cursing, yelling, heard a body hit the floor. Carson had scrambled down the stairs and into the kitchen, but he’d been too late to pull his dad away. Donald Hale was kneeling over his wife, a bloody knife in his hands. Judith was choking on her own blood, half a dozen stab-wounds in her chest. Don had looked up at Carson, head wagging, eyes confused. Carson had screamed, rushed his dad, taken the knife away, struck his father with it, opening a gash in Don’s shoulder, and again across his chest, clumsy thrusts. Don screamed, threw Carson away, kicked him in the ribs, lifted a fist, but Carson slashed at him with the knife, and Don stumbled backward. Then sirens sounded outside and Carson felt strong hands pulling him away, men in blue uniforms handcuffing his father, EMS kneeling by his mother. The policemen weren’t gentle with Donald Hale.

  “Detective? You okay?” Rhonda’s voice shook Carson out of the grip of memory, and he was grateful.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, nurse. What were you saying?” He saw Rhonda, but his father’s face in the patrol car still filled his mind.

  “Oh, nothing. Just that no one understood how she’d been able to walk out on her own feet like that.”

  Carson shook himself, cleared away the ruins of memory and focused on the job at hand. “Did anyone visit her while she was here?”

  Rhonda nodded. “Mmm-hmmm. Nice boy. Handsome too. Big blue eyes, lookin’ at that girl like he couldn’t get enough of her. Never left her side until she woke up.”

  This was new. “Ben? Or someone else?”

  “Ben? No he came later. This was a different guy. Maybe six-foot tall, brown hair. He had a motorcycle jacket and helmet. Jack, I think she called him. That boy loved her something fierce, although I’m not sure either of ‘em knew it yet. Or maybe they did, but they didn’t want to believe it.” Rhonda wiped her fingers on a napkin and stood up. Carson followed her, fitting a lid to his coffee cup.

  “Did they have an argument? Did she leave with Jack?”

  “Oh, I think he was tryin’ to convince her to leave the other guy, and she wasn’t havin’ none of it.” Rhonda shook her head sadly at this. “They didn’t argue, not like they were mad at each other, but eventually he did leave alone, and wasn’t none too happy about it. She cried for hours after he was gone. Of course, this is just what I could see from across the hall. I couldn’t hear too well, mind.”

  “So then Ben showed up?”

  “Ben’s the big one, right? Dark, like he was Arabic? Yeah, he came as she was gettin’ ready to leave. She was healin’ faster than anyone understood. She didn’t have insurance, like I said, and she was determined to leave. Don’t blame her, poor girl. Hospitals are awful expensive, any way you slice it. Well, that Ben was tellin’ her how sorry he was, but she didn’t believe him none. I didn’t neither. I been in her shoes, years past. They come to you with puppy dog eyes, actin’ all sorry, buyin’ you flowers and tellin’ you how much they love you, but shit, you can’t believe ‘em none, ‘cause they’ll just do it again, next time they get drunk.” Rhonda fell silent for a moment, sitting behind the nurse’s station, lost in bad memories of days gone by.

  “But she left with him? Voluntarily?” Carson pulled a business card from his wallet, handed it to the nurse.

  “Yeah, she did. I don’t think she wanted to, but she didn’t want a scene. That’s as much of it as anything, you know. You don’t want attention. You don’t want ‘em to get mad in public, because they’ll blame you for it when you’re home, and that’ll make it even worse for you.”

  “Well, I think I’ve got what I need. Thanks for your time, Mrs. Grimes.”

  “Oh sure, honey.” Rhonda seemed lost in her thoughts still, and Carson felt bad that he’d brought up memories she’d obviously worked hard to forget.

  Carson knew all about memories best left forgotten.

  Chapter 10: Then

  Ben’s fingers grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back in the car, held her screaming and thrashing. The car swerved and Ben was cursing trying to hold Miriam and drive at the same time. The exit appeared and Ben pulled off the interstate, the car door swinging open, Miriam’s leg dangling out, inches from the ground. Ben yanked the car over to the shoulder, leaped out and circled around, knelt in front of her.

  “What the hell was that?” He was whispering, for once. He looked utterly baffled. Miriam was numb, cold and rigid. She heard Ben speaking, shaking her shoulders, trying to get her attention; she had no energy to respond, no emotion left. She wouldn’t fight, couldn’t. She felt Ben latch the seatbelt across her, close the door, get in and continue driving. He got back on the freeway, but he took her home. His home, not hers. She didn’t care. She followed him blindly, felt him lay her down, strip her clothes off and cover her with a blanket.

  Miriam was empty. Nothing mattered. She’d sent Jack away, and that was it. She slept deeply and without dreams.

  She was woken by Ben’s hands exploring her body. Dim gray light filtered through the blinds, and Ben’s lips kissed her shoulder, her neck, her ear. The fires within remained banked and cold. His fingers caressed the curve of her hip, slid up her belly and tender ribcage to the swell of her breasts, cupping them, crushing them with unthinking strength. T
his was his way of apologizing. She wanted to scream, wanted to roll away and run. Part of her wanted to bash his skull, watch him bleed out onto the pillow. Miriam was a little startled by the violence of that thought, but she let herself taste the idea, mulled it over in her mind. It didn’t scare her the way it should. It excited her a little. It was more the idea of fighting back that excited her, she realized, than the actual violence itself, and for that she was relieved. She thought of how free she had felt, speaking her mind to Ben. It had almost been worth it, for that brief moment of freedom.

  His fingers were down between her legs and his mouth was on hers, and she let him do what he wanted, not resisting, but not engaging. He didn’t notice the difference. He grabbed her hand and guided it to his semi-rigid manhood, and she did what he wanted. The sooner he finished, the sooner she could go back to sleep. The thought of a fight, so soon again, filled her with fear; she wasn’t ready to face him yet. She retreated into the numb center of herself, let the coldness wash over her as Ben straddled her, hands by her shoulders, weight pressing her down painfully, crushing her still-sore ribs. She turned her head to the side and stared at the dented white expanse of the wall.

  Jack’s face filled her thoughts, and she tried to push it away. Memory of his hands on her skin filled her, blew a breath of catalyzing wind on the banked fires inside her. No. She fought against it. If she let herself respond, even to the memories of Jack, it would encourage Ben. She refused to think of Jack when Ben was above her, grunting, every thrust bruising her pelvic bones with blind force. He neared climax and the pain of his exuberance sent Miriam deeper into herself. Her only escape was Jack, his face, his kindness the only positive memory she could summon to blanket the pain.