Different Roads

by Lori L. Clark

  My eyes darted to my mom who seemed too concerned with trying to figure out how to work the digital camera in her hands to catch that my date just said I looked hot. I frowned at him and muttered, “Thanks.”

  Mom glanced at me and pursed her lips, “Jacqueline, honey where’s the matching clutch I gave you to carry?” Apparently, mom didn’t think my backpack was an appropriate handbag.

  “It’s too small to hold anything useful,” I complained.

  She huffed and folded her arms in front of her, “Well good lord don’t carry that thing into the theatre with you.”

  I’d stuffed a change of clothes, including a pair of comfortable shoes, inside the backpack along with my cell phone and some extra cash. Shoes made for walking, in case I had to. The cell phone was so I could call someone in case Rick left me at the theatre. Finally, the extra cash would be a last resort in case I needed to take a cab. I intended on breaking up with Rick tonight and I knew it was not going to go over well once he found out he was getting dumped instead of laid.

  Rick had borrowed his dad’s Lincoln for our date which made getting in and out of while wearing a dress much easier. As soon as we were inside the car he loosened the tie he had on and threw his jacket into the backseat.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Look, I had to wear that crap for appearance sake in front of your mom,” he reached over and ran the back of his hand down my cheek.

  My eyebrows drew together in confusion, “We’re not going to see Wicked?”

  “Are you high?” he laughed. When he realized I was seriously caught off guard by his confession, he added, “Jaq, tonight’s the night. If you think I’m going to waste precious time sitting in some lame play instead of blowing through a dozen or so condoms, you’d better think again.”

  “A dozen or so?” I squeaked.

  Chapter 4

  My brain was spinning in circles as I tried to work out how I was going to handle everything. I had no idea where he planned to take me, and the scenery became more rural with each passing mile. “So where are we going then?” I asked.

  Rick glanced sideways at me and grinned, “I rented a motel room.”

  “You do know my mom expects me home tonight, right?”

  He shrugged, “So? It won’t be the first time you broke the rules now will it?”

  That comment effectively ended all conversation between the two of us. When he pulled the car off the main highway onto a narrow, winding blacktop out in the middle of nowhere, I spotted a neon sign in the shape of a cactus. Some of the letters weren’t lit up, so the sign read ‘actus el’. It might actually have been Cactus Hell with the way I felt about things at the moment.

  “We’re here,” he said as he pulled the Lincoln into the deserted parking lot. His mouth curved into a small smile and he squeezed my leg, “I know it isn’t exactly a four-star hotel Jaq, but maybe next time.”

  My jaw had been clenched so tight for the last half-hour that my teeth ached, and there was a slow, dull throb building behind my eyes. I grabbed my bag out of the back seat while he popped the trunk to get the cooler of beer he’d brought along. How romantic, I mused.

  He unlocked the motel door and nudged it open with his foot. I followed him and the cooler on wheels inside the room which smelled a lot like dirt, and not clean dirt, but dirt that had been in the same spot forever. He turned to face me, pinning me between him and the grimy door. I seriously wanted to wipe the smug look off his face and when he leaned in to kiss me I turned my head so that his lips connected with my cheek instead of my mouth.

  “I’m nervous,” I chewed on my bottom lip. Actually, I was a basket case. I was so fucking pissed my fists were clenched and I couldn’t stop shaking. I knew he thought I was nervous because we were finally going to do it. I wanted to buy myself some time so I could figure out how to tactfully dump his stupid ass, though I was pretty sure there would be no easy way.

  He cracked open a bottle of beer and handed it to me, “Here, maybe this will help relax you a little bit.”

  I nodded and took a swig before sitting the bottle on the end table and telling him, “I’m going to get out of this dress.” Of course, he liked that idea and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me. I rolled my eyes and said, “Don’t get your hopes up; I’m not getting naked, I’m just putting on something a little more Jaq-like.”

  He snickered and I felt his eyes hot on me as I walked into the cramped bathroom, “Don’t take all night Jaq. I’m paying by the hour you know,” he called out.

  My hands fisted, and I squeezed my eyes tight. I slipped out of my dress and stuffed it into the backpack. Once I had on my jeans and hoodie, I felt a little more like myself and better able to deal with whatever hand the situation dealt.

  Apparently he thought since I was changing my clothes, he decided to get out of his. The boxer shorts he wore reminded me of a certain someone else, reinforcing my decision to be rid of Rick. He was sprawled out across the tacky bedspread when I walked out of the bathroom and he shot me a puzzled glance, “Babe? I thought you were getting naked for me,” he said.

  “I said I was getting out of the dress, you’re the one who interpreted that to mean naked,” I told him. He handed me the open beer and I swallowed a big gulp. It tasted bitter and was already half warm, “This tastes like shit,” I grimaced.

  He shrugged, “Warm beer usually does.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed, musing to myself as to whether or not it was one of those quarter-driven vibrating specialties that all the low-rent establishments had in place. I started thinking about how to phrase my break up with him. Maybe I should turn all of the blame on myself. Rick, it’s not you, it’s me. I chugged the rest of the lukewarm beer and reached for another. He grabbed for my arm and pulled me down on top of him. After a few more minutes I began to sweat and felt strange, like I’d had four or five beers instead of just the one. I swallowed a couple of times and asked, “Did you put something in my beer?”

  “Maybe,” he smiled.

  “I can’t feel my lips,” I said, pressing my fingertips against my mouth. “What did you do?”

  “I just gave you a little something to help you relax. Jesus Jaq, calm down,” he muttered. He wrapped his arm around the back of my neck and pulled my face down so he could kiss me before rolling me onto my back. He pinned my arms above my head with one hand, while the other hand worked trying to unfasten the button of my jeans.

  I pulled one of my hands free from his grasp and pressed my palm against his bare chest, “Wait a minute, would you?” I huffed.

  “What? Why? I’m ready now,” he growled and rubbed against me.

  “No, dammit. Stop,” I tried to push him off of me, but my arms felt like they weighed three-hundred pounds each. I had no strength and he seemed less than interested in hearing what I had to say. He continued to trail kisses along my neck while he dry-humped against me, growing harder by the second. “Please. I don’t want to do this.”

  “Come on Jaq, my dick’s so hard I’m going to explode.”

  “No, Rick. I really don’t want to,” I bit my lower lip and tears pricked at the back of my eyes.

  He rolled off of me and stood abruptly, dropping his boxers to the floor. I felt paralyzed, unable stop him. I felt my body shake uncontrollably as the tears slid down my cheeks. He roughly yanked my jeans down and tossed them aside before crawling back on top of me. He fumbled with a condom and swore. He finally managed to roll it down over his erection. He kissed my mouth roughly and I didn’t respond. “Just lay still Jaq, it will be over in a few minutes. The first time’s never any good for the woman anyway,” he grunted.

  I couldn’t do anything to stop him. What the fuck was happening? I cried and pleaded, “No, please. Don’t,” I choked out.

  He stroked my hair, “Shh, shh. It’ll be okay,” he said and with one quick jab he thrust into me. My body went stiff with pain and cried out, which he mistook as my consent and maybe even an admission of ple
asure. He pounded against me relentlessly for an undetermined amount of time before his body went rigid. With a sickening groan, he collapsed against me, where he stayed unmoving until I felt him go soft and slide out of me.

  He reached between our legs grasping the used condom, and then he rolled off me and went to flush it down the toilet. “Next time will be better, babe.”

  I just stared at the ceiling, I couldn’t bring myself to even look at him. “There is never going to be a next time,” I measured each word carefully. “We’re through Rick.”

  “Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “I got what I wanted.” Then he was gone.

  I didn’t move for the longest time. I couldn’t. I was in shock and felt numb. I just lay there — naked — as my body trembled. I didn’t want to cry, but the tears kept coming. I had no idea how much time had passed when I was finally able to curl myself up. I slowly felt the weight of my arms lighten. Eventually, I gathered my things and locked myself in the bathroom. I looked at myself in the streaked mirror and hardly recognized the bloodshot eyes staring back at me. I stepped into the scalding hot shower and finally broke down. I fisted my hands against the slippery tile and wailed, “Fuuuuuuck!”

  Chapter 5

  After what happened with Rick, I drifted in and out of relationships going from one guy to the next in the amount of time it takes most people to smoke a cigarette. Truthfully, they were more like one-night stands than real relationships. I didn’t want to hurt anymore so I blocked out all of my feelings, staying numb and distrustful seemed easier than taking a chance on becoming vulnerable all over again.

  It was a hard time in my life, I kept a lot of painful, raw emotions stuffed down inside after my parents’ divorce and then being raped by the one guy who I thought really cared about me. It wasn’t long before I began to seek other things to take away the pain I carried around with me like a third arm. Instead of getting to the bottom of why I felt so vulnerable, I began to to self-medicate. It was sort of like putting a Band-Aid on a deep puncture wound; it is neither recommended nor advised.

  By the time I turned seventeen I had discovered ecstasy. It was the perfect drug for me. Where drugs were concerned, you name it, I probably tried it, but nothing held a candle to the way ecstasy made me feel. It gave me a euphoric feeling and lured me into a false sense of being loved and needed. Before long, I found myself running with a very rough crowd and I had spiraled down to an all-time low.

  Partying one night three years later I caught the reflection of a stranger in a mirror. I was that stranger. I couldn’t believe what I had done to myself. Staring back at me from the mirror was the fucking hollow-eyed druggie I’d become.

  After that night I began soul searching, trying to figure out why the hell I had done this to myself and it dawned on me just how much my parents’ divorce had totally fucked with my head and what a spineless, self-gratifying bastard Rick had been. Brick by solitary brick, I’d built a wall around my heart, vowing to never let anyone inside again.

  Strangely, I didn’t regret doing all of the drugs I did. In a funny, warped sort of way, it helped me understand myself and come to terms with a lot of the core issues I hadn’t even realized I’d never truly dealt with.

  It’s been said if we look back over our life we can determine pivotal turning points, when something seemingly insignificant and tiny turns us in a completely different direction. Meeting Seth, being raped by Rick, and catching a glimpse of myself in that mirror on my nineteenth birthday had been major catalysts for change in my life, though not always for the better.

  Chapter 6

  Not long after I had vowed to clean up my act and get off drugs, I started getting my fix by working on cars. Literally getting into cars and getting down and dirty with the guys. No, not in the back seat. Under the hood.

  I started classes at the local technical college and some of my best friends were male. They took me under their wings and thought of me as one of the guys. They were a protective bunch of country boys and always looked out for me. They felt it was their duty to make sure no assholes messed with me. Any guy who wanted to go out with me had to be cleared through them first.

  After class one afternoon I stood at the end of the hall trying to gauge the distance from the double doors at the front of the school out to where my car sat, barely visible in the downpour. My friend Brad came up behind me and nudged me with his broad shoulder, “Thirsty Thursday Jaq, you going to Pete’s?”

  “Not tonight Romeo,” I told him. Pete’s is a nearby dive we all liked to go hang out at after school to shoot pool and blow off steam. “I’ve got to get some more packing done.”

  “Packing? What? Going on a trip without your best pal Brad?” he asked, giving me a boyish gap-toothed grin. Brad had lost one of his front teeth in a bar fight somewhere across the river and never bothered to get it fixed. He maintained that it made him look tough and I didn’t have the heart to tell him it made him look like a hillbilly.

  I rolled my eyes and folded my arms in front of my chest, “God Brad. Shelley and I rented that place closer to the school. We’re moving this weekend. You’re taking the day off, right?”

  He cocked his head to the side the way a dog does when it thinks you’re crazy, “Did you tell me you and Shell got a place?” he asked, straight-faced. When my eyes drew into a frown, he chuckled. “Just messing with ya, Jaq. No appointments Saturday. I’m all yours. What time do I gotta be there to help you move?”

  “You are such an ass,” I hissed and balled up my fist to punch him playfully in the shoulder, “Eight.”

  “Eight? In the morning?” he asked, his voice rising into a girly whine. “You are seriously going to owe me. This body is a temple, Jaq. If I don’t get at least six hours of beauty sleep it goes on strike.”

  “Right. They make little blue pills for that you know,” I teased.

  The tops of his ears turned crimson, “On that note. I got a cold Bud waiting for me at Pete’s. Catch ya later.”

  “Yeah, later,” I smiled knowing I could always count on Brad. For him to clear his Saturday appointment book at the tattoo shop was huge. Saturday was his busiest day and Brad’s skill with the tattoo gun was second to none.

  The wind had picked up and the rain was coming down harder and from every direction possible. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up, tucked my hair inside, and pushed the doors open. As soon as I stepped out, I heard an extremely agitated female voice unleash a string of swear words that made even me blush. I braced myself, figuring the tirade was aimed at me from a jealous girlfriend of one of my buddy’s.

  I chanced a peek in the direction of the voice, seconds before hearing, “You are a fuck, you know that?” I was positive I heard her growl. Next, her cell phone whizzed by me, mere inches from my head.

  “Hey, we’re just friends. It’s not what you think,” I held up my hands in hopes of placating her with my standard I didn’t fuck your boyfriend response.

  “Do I know you?” she asked as she bent over to retrieve the pieces of her phone.

  “I don’t think so. But after you called me a fuck and pitched your phone at my head I thought maybe you knew me?” I ducked back under the canopy in front of the school doors.

  “What? Oh hell. I’m sorry,” she said, “I was on the phone with my worthless piece of shit brother. He was supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago. My car won’t start again.”

  Relief flooded through me. I wasn’t going to have to defend myself against some psycho girlfriend’s misplaced jealous rage again today. I extended my hand, “I’m Jaq Carter. You are? What’s wrong with your car?”

  “Depends who you ask.”

  “Okay?” I quirked an eyebrow at her, unsure if she was answering the question about what her name was or what the problem was with her car.

  “If you ask me, I think it hates the rain. Or me.” A nervous giggle slipped out and she tucked a wet chunk of short black hair behind her ears. “If you ask my brother, he’ll tell you what’s wron
g is the fact that it doesn’t have a Dodge, Chevy, or Ford emblem on the hood. That’s his standard response anyway.” I laughed. The argument about which make was best was one I’d heard too many times to count. “Sorry, I’m Danielle Blackwell.”

  “What kind of car is it?” I asked.

  “Mazda Miata convertible,” she pointed across the parking lot to a small, rain obscured thing with four wheels parked beneath the security lights. “The eggplant colored one over there.”

  Eggplant? My snarky side rolled her eyes. Hard to believe this timid girl standing beside me, describing the color of her car as eggplant was the same one I’d heard spout a line of obscenities into her now-shattered cell phone a few minutes ago. “I’ll stick around and wait with you; this isn’t exactly a Sunday afternoon stroll kind of neighborhood.”

  The rain finally eased to a drizzle while we waited. I was just about ready to ask where she lived and offer her a ride when she said, “Finally. Dumb sonofa—”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Hear that?”

  The only thing I heard was the unmistakable rumble of a motorcycle. Harley, from the way it sounded. I nodded, “Yeah. What freaking idiot rides a bike in weather like this?” I asked, my eyes zoning in on the single headlight as it bounced across the lot in our direction. We had to scramble out of his way because he pulled right up under the awning where we stood.

  Danielle flung her purse at his head and my mouth dropped open, convinced she must have a death wish or something. “You are the biggest, dumbest bastard I know. What the hell took you so long? And just what in God’s name were you thinking, bringing that thing to pick me up with? You know I hate motorcycles! Just how many brain cells do you have left? Three?”

  He killed the engine, and to my surprise, actually waited quietly until she finished calling him every unflattering name in the book and beat on him with her handbag, “Calm the fuck down Dani,” he muttered. “The tranny’s out on the Ram; this is all the wheels I’ve got at the moment. I was trying to borrow something else to come get you. That’s what took me so long.”