In This Life

by Cora Brent

  I pictured her with a cigarette dangling out of the left side of her mouth as she gushed. “So proud of you, Say. I sent you a Target gift card.”

  “Oh god, Target. I love Target,” I had told her, trying to sound not at all bitchy. “They undoubtedly have the best toilet paper selection.”

  If you had an ounce of enterprise in you, then Emblem, Arizona wasn’t a place you wanted to stay. As long as I could remember, my desire to leave the bowels of my desert hometown approached zealotry. Of my peers, a third would end up working at the nearby state prison complex and perhaps live stilted, unhappy lives like my parents. Statistically, another third would succumb to the pull of drugs and other turmoil, perhaps winding up incarcerated themselves and poignantly guarded by former classmates. The final third would move on to college and something resembling brighter futures. But even most of them would choose to remain in the state. Brayden was enrolling at ASU. My whole life had been spent in that scorching prison town seventy miles south of Phoenix. I wanted out, way out. Years of diligent, single-minded work vaulted me to the top of my class and the scholarship to attend Occidental College was the sum of my dreams. I didn’t even offer Emblem one final, affectionate backwards glance the day I left.

  The landscape of California was an improvement over the landscape of central Arizona. I felt immediately liberated from the oppressive heat and from the cast of tiredly familiar characters who had populated my world from birth. I didn’t like to be reminded where I came from. My new peers all appeared to live breezy lives atop pairs of three hundred dollar shoes. I spent summers immersed in work study and piloted my sputtering vehicle to the beach every time I could scrape together ten dollars for the gas.

  As for my parents, they seemed to grow immediately accustomed to a child free existence. My mother dated more than any free spirited twenty year old. I visited them in Emblem a few awkward times a year. We talked on the phone sometimes. It was enough.

  The only sore spot was Brayden. I missed him. I missed him a lot. Over the last few years I felt like distance had cost us some of the closeness we’d always shared. He had a girlfriend he seemed serious about and one more year left at ASU to complete a graduate program in mechanical engineering. I still thought of him as my best friend.

  Another sad surprise was that boys on the coast were still boys. Dating was a routinely disappointing endeavor punctuated by the occasional orgasm. When I met Devin the spring semester of my junior year he seemed too good to be true. He was too good to be true.

  Somewhere in Riverside County I considered pulling over and giving Brayden another try, perhaps messaging him through Facebook. After all it wasn’t really fair to descend on the guy’s game with no warning. I was a bruised bag of ruin with no plan. Bray had a life of his own out there in Tempe. He had, what’s-her-name…Millie. I’d seen her pictures on Facebook; a pretty Asian girl with long black hair and a dazzling smile. She wore white dresses a lot and majored in one of those high concept disciplines, like Anthropological Social Economics or some shit.

  My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I crossed the border from California back to the state of my birth. It was nearly midnight and I should have been exhausted but I wasn’t. I felt as if I had spent years in the black oblivion of a nightmare and I was finally awake.

  I shifted and focused on the blackness ahead. I swear the loneliest stretch of road in the United States has to be the I-10 between the California border and the fringes of western Phoenix. Academically I knew that wasn’t true. There were whole swaths of empty country in those vast states of the far north. But just then, beaten and quietly praying to something I didn’t think existed past the glittering stars, it seemed there was no other surface of the earth quite as bleak.

  About fifty miles outside of Quartzsite I realized I had to pee pretty desperately. I passed two desolate rest stops that had been boarded up for whatever reason and I cursed the whims of local bureaucrats who evidently cared nothing for the bladders of distressed women.

  Finally, the tiny lights of the west valley were near enough to touch. I pulled over at a QT station within sight of the nuclear power plant. When I breezed through the doors, hunting for the bathroom, the counter attendant gawked at me. At first I thought it had to be because of my swollen face but when I sat on the toilet and glanced down I saw my left nipple playing peek-a-boo with the low neckline of my tee shirt.

  “Hot mess,” I grumbled, shoving it back where it belonged, thinking about how helpful it would be if I had a bra on.

  Once my bladder was empty I inspected myself in the mirror, wincing as my eyes shrank under the piercing ceiling lights. It seemed whoever had decided on those industrial bulbs was either hoping to inflict mass blindness or else root out a few covert vampires.

  So my jaw was swollen and yes, it would be bruised. I pushed my hair behind my ears and filled the sink with cold water. As I bent over and bathed my face I remembered the disgusting feeling of Devin’s violation. I wondered if it counted as rape if the guy couldn’t finish because someone hit him with a table. As I blotted my face with a paper towel I decided that it did.

  “Fucker,” I muttered, startling an elderly Hispanic lady who was just coming through the door. She smiled at me nervously and it occurred to me that with my damaged face, mismatched clothes and wild hair I could be taken for a prostitute. Or one of those meth heads whose PSA posters serve as cautionary tales in public transit stations.

  I rooted around in my purse and found a comb. As I sorted through the tangles in my hair I tried not to listen to the tinkling sound of a stranger peeing. The woman didn’t look at me when she emerged. She washed her hands and exited, leaving a five dollar bill on the cracked vanity. I almost chased after her to return it. I wanted to tell her I wasn’t hopeless. I was a goddam college graduate with an adequate body and a novel in progress that somehow was going to amount to something. Convenience store charity was wasted on someone with my prospects. Yeah, I almost said all that.

  Then I changed my mind and used the five to buy a cherry Icee and a bag of Doritos. It was a good meal.

  While my car was filling up I called Brayden again.

  “Jesus, Bray,” I said to his voicemail, somewhat exasperated that he was the only twenty two year old in the world who didn’t stay connected at all times. “Anyway, I’m slightly less fragile than I was the last time I left you a message. But I’m still on my way with the handful of things I could carry in the trunk of my half dead vehicle. It is midnight now and I can see the lights of the nuclear power plant. Know what that means? It means I’ll be in Tempe in a little over an hour. Christ, I need a shower. I hope you’re not out of town or something because I have no other friends here and if you’re not around I’ll have to find a nice Walmart parking lot to cozy up in until morning. Love you, man.”

  The Phoenix metro area is huge. Perhaps not Los Angeles kind of huge, but still. You’ve got to drive an awful long time to get from end to end. After gliding forever through the west valley, I saw the towering structures of downtown Phoenix and then, finally, the fringes of the east side.

  I had already plugged Brayden’s address into my phone and as I passed the bold outline of Sun Devil Stadium I knew I was getting close. Arizona State University was a shining beacon of liberty to Emblem kids.

  The area surrounding ASU always has been and probably always will be a circus of apartments and fast food dives. As I drove hesitantly through the Palm Desert Apartment complex it looked like Mardi Gras. People hung off balconies and meandered about in lurching, intoxicated glory. I poked my head out of the car window and called out to a quartet of blondes.

  “Hey, do any of you know where apartment 2163 is?”

  “BWAHAHAHAHA!” they responded and then one of them bent over and vomited into an oleander bush.

  “Thanks,” I waved. “Thanks a lot!”

  You’d think an apartment complex roughly the size of the city of Buffalo might have a map posted somewhere. But if it existed then
I couldn’t find it. Nor could I clearly read any of the building numbers as I rolled passed and squinted. Finally I gave up, parking the Civic in a far flung corner that looked as good a place to start as any. In an act of sheer futility I called Brayden again. Of course he didn’t answer. Of course.

  Warily I watched a pair of hulking men prowling around, drunk out of their gourd. I wasn’t eager to risk being manhandled so close on the heels of the Devin encounter. After fumbling around in my backseat I found a dark hooded sweatshirt and pulled it on. Though it was easily ninety degrees outside, I was aiming to look like a tough guy who might be up to no good in the dark. It might keep the creepers away. I tucked my hair under the hood and hunched my shoulders as I started to make my way through the maze of dwellings.

  After about five minutes of aimless wandering I concluded it was impossible for anyone to find anything in this labyrinth of stucco. I sank against the nearest wall with a dejected sigh. When I looked up I saw the numbers 2163.

  My Hallelujah moment was, however, short lived when I banged on the door for a solid ten minutes and no one answered. I leaned my head against the door, feeling every bit of energy drain away.

  “Don’t cry, Saylor,” I soothed myself. I hated to cry. “Don’t do it.”

  After several moments of blank staring in which the meaning of the universe eluded me, I decided I should try to break in As I peered into the dim living room I glimpsed several framed pictures of Brayden and Millie so I knew for sure this was their place. I yanked on the window frame. Brayden was the forgetful sort. He might have left it unlocked. I yanked harder.

  I expected the window might be locked after all. I did not expect to be abruptly tackled to the ground by a mountain. It was all too reminiscent of Devin’s attack. Even as I landed on the sharp gravel I let out a raging shriek and kicked out with all my might.

  “Shit,” swore the mountain in disbelief, “you’re a girl.”

  I felt myself being pulled up by strong arms attached to a body. And my, what a body. It had a chest with something tattooed in Latin across the muscled expanse. It also had shoulders with more ink that were glued to strong arms. “Are you okay?” it asked me and I nodded mutely, staring at the eruption of maleness that I could appreciate even in my trying circumstances. Then I blinked in disbelief when I saw that the body also had a face. It was one I recognized.

  “Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” I muttered, shaking my head. I crossed my arms and looked him in the eye. “Cord Gentry. What the hell are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cord

  I heard a scuffling noise underneath me and was cheered by the idea that Brayden might be home. There was something wholesome about hanging around Bray and Millie, his girl. Sometimes I got to feeling a little disconnected from the wider world apart from my brothers.

  After climbing down to the second floor balcony it was an easy jump to the ground below and I pulled it off without a sound. But when I straightened out all I saw was a dark, hooded figure trying to pry open the lock on Brayden’s window. A skinny high school punk by the looks of him, he was just begging for a lesson in good manners.

  I didn’t know if he was carrying anything more lethal than stupidity. I decided to chuck him to the ground and sort the rest of it out along the way. He fumbled too much, meaning he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Piece of cake to take him down. I didn’t really want to hurt the kid. I just wanted to scare the living crap out of him and send him on his way to think about being a better person. That’s all. And if he pissed his pants in the middle of it, so much the better.

  He was a featherweight and went down with barely a nudge. It was a good thing I didn’t handle him harder because the yelp of pain and surprise knocked the wind out of me.

  “Shit, you’re a girl,” I said, shaking my head. Okay, so the would-be intruder had a vagina. It didn’t mean she was off the hook. But still, I couldn’t ever justify hurting a female. That was the path to being as big a bastard as my old man.

  “Are you okay?” I asked as I pulled her up. Her hood fell away and a cascade of wavy brown hair spilled onto her shoulders. She was sputtering somewhat indignantly, then gave me a hard look that stopped me cold. I think she was even more shocked, though she managed to gather her wits enough to speak first.

  “Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” she grumbled and glared at me hatefully. “Cord Gentry, what the hell are you doing here?”

  I swallowed. “Hey, Saylor. Nice to see you too. What’s it been, four years?”

  “Not long enough and I didn’t say it was nice to see you for god’s sake. I asked what the hell you’re doing lurking around Tempe like Jack the fucking Ripper.”

  I just stared at her. Saylor McCann was one of the few things I’ve ever truly felt bad about. Sometimes I meant to ask Bray what she was up to now but I never had the guts. Wherever she was I was sure she hated the shit out of me.

  “I was catching a prowler,” I muttered, then narrowed my eyes. “You know, you looked suspicious as fuck out here.” Saylor let out a hiss and turned her head, as if she were hoping I would just dissolve into the atmosphere. She pulled her sweatshirt off and I found myself noticing the soft curves of her body. She wore a tight shirt and no bra. Then I realized from the way she crossed her arms and shuffled dejectedly that she was trying not to cry.

  “Hey,” I reached for her but then backed off. I could read her icy look well enough in the dark. “So what, you’re here to visit Brayden?”

  “What the hell do you know about my cousin?”

  “I know he’s not home.”

  “Wow, you’re a real Sherlock goddamn Holmes.”

  “Shit, stand down, okay? I don’t know where the hell he’s at but you’re welcome to come back to my place for a while if you don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  She gaped at me in disbelief. “Your place?” she echoed. “Thanks Cord, but I think I’d rather run my tongue over some hot charcoal for a few hours.”

  There was a flood lamp overhead. Her face was bathed in the brash yellow light and I looked at her more carefully. “Jesus, I didn’t do that to your face, did I?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “No. His name’s Devin. He’s an asshole.”

  “Obviously.” I began to simmer with a slow boil towards this unidentified Devin prick.

  Saylor sighed and stared miserably at the ground. “You’re an asshole too,” she finally said.

  I chuckled. “Never said I wasn’t. But you can still come hang out with me and the boys for a while, unless you prefer crawling around in the dark. You know, the next guy to come along might not be as nice as me.”

  “The boys,” she frowned. “What boys?”

  “Creed and Chase. You might remember them.”

  “You Gentry brothers are fairly unforgettable,” she said witheringly.

  I didn’t care for the sound of that. I was a mighty dick when I was sixteen and she had more than enough reason to despise me. But she was acting as if I should be squatting a step below the gutter. The fine folks of Emblem had always shaken their heads over the white trash Gentrys. We were violent, shiftless, hopeless. They even made up stories that we were inbred.

  “Fine, I guess you don’t need a damn bit of help, Saylor, great judge of character that you are.” I was being mean, running a finger across her swollen jaw as she cringed. “You obviously know a good man when you see one.”

  I’d hit her below the belt there. Her face collapsed and she leaned against the side of the building. “Just leave me the hell alone,” she muttered and I felt a jolt of remorse. She’d apparently been through the wringer tonight already. No need to make it any worse.

  “Look,” I told her. “I made you an offer, one Emblem reject to another. You can stay here alone and nurse your old bitterness if you’d rather do that.”

  Saylor didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at me. I shook my head and started to walk away, no longer in the mood to deal with some cr
anky chick and her angst.

  “Cord,” she called.

  I turned around. She looked lost. She looked like she did when she was sixteen and found out the guy who had just popped her cherry was more of a shithead than she had imagined.

  “Bray never told me you were here.”

  I raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “I wonder why.”

  She offered a vague little smile. “He didn’t know I was coming and I can’t get ahold of him.” She stared down at herself and made a face. “God, what I wouldn’t give for a shower.”

  I waited. “Offer stands, Say.”

  Saylor nodded tiredly and coughed once. “Okay. Look, I’m just going to grab my bag. I left it in my car.”

  I joined her. “All right, I’ll go with you. Never know who or what is hiding out in the dark.”

  Her sidelong glance had a wry quality. “No kidding.”

  Saylor’s car was the same battered Civic she’d had in high school, except it had California plates now. She reached into the backseat and grabbed a purse and a dark duffel bag. I tried to take the bag myself but she waved me away.

  “I got it,” she said tersely.

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course you do.”

  The silence between us was painfully awkward as I led her back to the three bedroom apartment I shared with my brothers. When I held the door for her she hesitated at the threshold and looked up at me with uncertainty. I tried not to openly wince at the sight of her bruised and swollen face. It didn’t matter who she was; shit like that just turned me inside out.