Twice Shy

by Patrick Freivald

  She brought the razor down to her thigh and raked upward, slicing through her black jeans, splitting skin and muscle. She gasped in relief as the craving subsided. She leaned against the doorframe, savoring the pain and the peace that came with it. With a sigh, she inserted the key in the final lock, and went inside.

  Out of sight of the neighborhood, she jammed the auto injector into the base of her skull, just in case. That done, she wrapped the ruined jeans in a plastic grocery bag and threw them away, grabbed pajama pants from her room in case her mom got home early, and went into the bathroom. She used the full-length mirror on the door to get a better look at the cut marring her thigh.

  Maybe six inches long, at its deepest she could see the gray-brown of bone. The muscle had been severed clean, right down the middle. She winced as she touched the raw flesh underneath.

  She stood, grabbed the first-aid kit from the cabinet, and popped it open. She squirted "Liquid Bandage" into the wound and squeezed it shut. The bottle was labeled "For topical use only. For deep cuts, consult a doctor." For zombie flesh cuts, consult a witchdoctor.

  Once it had bonded, she limped her way to the basement to stitch up the outside. She grabbed the suture thread and a needle, threaded it, tied the loop, and stitched the wound closed. She stood and put weight on it, then bounced a little. It hurt, but the stitches held. Perfect.

  She bent down, put one leg in her pajama bottoms, and froze. Did I just see... She looked up. The 'just in case' room door stood barred and padlocked. She shuffled forward, eyes wide. No, please. Not this. Anything but this. She peered inside.

  A corpse writhed in the recliner. It was an old man, bald with tufts of white hair, blotchy and fat. It moaned through the gag, all but inaudible through the door. It wore a hospital gown and steel manacles like you'd see in movies with old dungeons. Its dead eyes were wide and murderous, as Dylan's had been.

  Ani sat on the floor, stunned. She was still sitting, staring at the door, when her mother got home. She wasn't sure what time it was, but through the safety glass she could see that the sun had gone down. Ani heard her call out, then heard her come down the stairs.

  "You promised," Ani said, still sitting, facing the door.

  "I promised that I would do anything to protect you. Even if that means lying to you." Ani closed her eyes and saw her mother, pistol pressed up against her chin. Not anything. Not what you did to this man. You'd die before you became what he is. What we are.

  She clambered to her feet and turned to face her mother. Dylan's monster. "We made a deal." Her mom's gaze drifted downward. Ani looked down, realized she had one pant leg around her ankle, the stitches exposed for her mother to see.

  "What happened to your leg?"

  "You're not changing the subject, Mom. We made a deal. Nobody else dies. You agreed."

  Her mom scowled. "This man was terminal. He had hours to live. Less." Ani had felt a lot of things about her mom recently: confusion, love, shock, pain. Hate was new, powerful and consuming, as dangerous as hunger. If this is what it's like to grow up.... Ani felt sick to her stomach as she made up her mind.

  She slammed her hand back, heard a gentle whoosh of air, felt the heat even through the door. Black-orange shadows danced on her mother's face, her mouth creased in disapproval.

  "Next time it will be me in there, Mom." Her mom opened her mouth and Ani held up a finger. "No deals, no promises, no lies. I won't let you do this again. I'll die first. Forever. Do you understand me?" Her mom nodded. She dropped her finger.

  "That was rash," her mom said.

  "We're not discussing it," Ani snapped.

  Her mom nodded. "Alright, then, can we discuss your leg?"

  Ani stepped in to the other pant leg, pulled up the pink Hello Kitty pj’s, and tied the drawstring. "I need another dose. Or a stronger dose. Or something new."

  "You just incinerated 'something new.'"

  "Then get me something old."

  * * *

  The older serum didn't work quite as well, so Ani skipped school with the "flu" on Monday and Tuesday. Tuesday night was the monthly skating party, and while her mom sold candy, Ani stayed home, never too far from the shotgun. If she drew patterns in her thighs with a razor blade just from thinking about the crowd of kids, that was the price for her refusal to compromise.

  * * *

  The rest of the week was almost nice. Fey acted normal again, her mom seemed to feel a little better since they'd altered her chemo, and the school was abuzz with spring break plans. Jake was being dragged to the Bahamas where his mom would almost definitely force him to get a tan and lounge around by the pool, and he wouldn't shut up about what a drag it was. The rest of the world pretty much ignored her—that included Mike, but there were worse things. If her mom had any news about Dylan, she kept it to herself. Ani tried not to think about the ashy remains in her basement.

  Chapter 24

  Ani stopped pretending to search for a job. She didn't want to work in a tattoo parlor, and nobody else would even interview her once they got a look at her facial piercings. Travis was going to re-open the Dragon's Lair, though it wouldn't be until June, but Ani had enough money saved to get by until then. You need a life to have bills. Ani found herself spending most of her spring break in the basement with her mom.

  Wednesday afternoon the phone rang. The caller ID said "The UPS Store," so Ani picked it up and hit 'Send.' "Hello?"

  "Hello, may I speak to Ani Romero please?" said a pleasant female voice.

  "This is she," Ani said.

  "Hi, Ani, this is Greta Haberstro from the UPS Store. I understand that you stopped in for an interview but were turned away?"

  "Yeah," Ani said. "I was. They didn't like my taste in jewelry."

  "I'm so sorry that happened." Greta laid on the fake sympathy pretty thick. "Would you be willing to come in tomorrow at ten?" Desperate, are we?

  "Just a second." She put her hand over the receiver and asked her mom.

  "I have a doctor's appointment," her mom said. "You'll have to find a ride."

  "I'll be there," Ani said. If I have to walk.

  "Wonderful," Greta said. "I'll see you tomorrow at ten."

  Ani pressed 'End,' set the phone on the table and looked at her mom. "Oncologist?"

  "At ten-fifteen. He's doing a round of tests after this latest bout of chemo. It's a little early yet, but insurance is covering it and he thought it'd be a good idea."

  "Okay," Ani said. "I'll ask Fey."

  * * *

  Jake picked her up in his mom's tiny four-banger Hyundai Excel the next morning at nine forty-five. She got into the car, cradling the faux-leather portfolio that held her sparse resume. "You're late." He hit the gas before she'd shut the door, and she had to scramble to get her seatbelt on. "Shouldn't you be wearing your seatbelt?"

  "What are you, my mom?" Jake asked. He made a rolling stop at the sign and turned right. It's exactly this level of conversation that makes you such a hit with the ladies, Jake. Even so, he grabbed the belt and fastened it a split-second before the oncoming truck swerved.

  Straight for them.

  The sound was so fast her brain had a hard time processing it, a violent crunch that consumed her every thought. Ani had never heard anything so loud, but it was nothing like in the movies. Her head rebounded off the dashboard and the world hazed red.

  Mouth open, she turned to Jake as life shifted to slow motion. He held his face with both hands, bright red blood gushing around his fingers. Hunger consumed her. She reached for the bloody flesh, grabbed its arm, tried to pull it closer. Her hands slipped on the blood, and she cried out in anguish as the meal was denied. She licked the blood from her hands as something pulled her out of the car.

  She twisted free and turned, furious. Dylan's fist caught her in the temple, and pain exploded as she heard bone crack. Mine or his? It shocked her back to herself even as she fell. She flopped to the ground as he grabbed her purse and tore it in half. The contents rained down on her: keys,
Tic Tacs, cigarettes, makeup, tampons. Dylan caught her auto injector before it hit the ground and jammed it into his temple.

  She tried to stand and he stomped her to the ground. She gasped as her ribs cracked. He stomped again and again. With each blow, the hunger faded in the blissful release of agony. Her vision clouded.

  He fell on top of her, straddling her, and beat her. His fists rained down on her shoulders, chest, and ribs, each blow a stinging rebuke. I'm dead because of you. You let your mother do this. This is your fault. Yours and yours alone.

  As the world went black, a righteous angel appeared. Shirtless and covered in rippling muscle, the seraphim's green eyes burned with the fury of God unleashed on an immoral world. So beautiful. After such an incredible sight, Ani knew she could die happy. Something didn't fit. Why does the Angel of Death have a shovel?

  Mike swung, taught muscles straining, and the flat of the metal blade caught Dylan in the side of the head. Knocked sideways, Dylan scrambled to his feet, snarling. Mike filled her vision as he stepped over her and swung again. She heard metal contact flesh-covered bone, and then he looked down at her. She fell into his eyes, and was lost.

  She sobbed as his eyes left her, unable to think except to gasp for more. She felt strong arms lift her like a baby, carry her to safety. A cloud enveloped her, and she slept.

  * * *

  Ani opened her eyes. It was such a strange feeling, to have been unconscious, unmoving, helpless, that she snapped to a sitting position. "Jake!" she cried.

  "He's okay," her mom said. "He didn't even break anything." A blinding light hit her eyes. Penlight. Her mom moved it to the other eye, then switched it off.

  "Where's Mike?" Ani asked.

  "I'm here," he said. As her eyes adjusted to the brightly lit, stark-white room she saw his face. My angel... Her mother's voice murdered her daydream.

  "Because of your condition I had you transferred to the care of Doctor Banerjee. He's an old friend of mine who specializes in these kinds of things." Her mother's eyes were a warning.

  Ani closed her eyes and leaned back into the pillow. "Are you sure Jake's okay?"

  Mike responded. "He'll be fine. A little banged up, and his car is totaled, but he's supposed to be released in a few hours."

  "My daughter needs to rest," her mother said. "You should go."

  "No, wait!" Ani said, opening her eyes. She looked at her mom. "I want him here." She grabbed Mike's hand. "I want you here. Please stay."

  He leaned over her and gave her a hug, wrapping her in his arms, strong but gentle. "Of course."

  She ignored her mom's glare. She closed her eyes and her consciousness drifted, neither awake nor asleep, his hand warming hers.

  * * *

  The State Police intensified the manhunt for Dylan, not only for the previous charges and his "escape" from the mental institution, but this time for attempted vehicular homicide. Dogs, helicopters, and volunteers scoured Ohneka Falls and the surrounding area. The police dogs refused to follow his scent, but a man from Corning reportedly had given him a ride as far as Binghamton in the back of his truck, and the trail from there was cold.

  Sunday morning—Easter—Ani and her mom went to church. With heavy makeup on her face and most of the damage contained to her torso, she looked almost uninjured. The pastor greeted them as strangers, which was no surprise. The two to three times a year that they went weren't enough for Ani to remember his name, either. She fidgeted through the ceremony and bounced her way to the car.

  The day held an air of excitement. They were going to the city for dinner so that Ani could meet her mom's mystery boyfriend and his son. Ani was thrilled, even though it would mean a mechanical flushing when she got home.

  "What if I don't like him?" Ani had asked her mom.

  "You will," she'd replied, but she looked nervous.

  Jake was out of the hospital. Ani's mom gave her a ride to his house so she could personally deliver a card. No flowers. The last thing I need is that kind of misunderstanding. There were half a dozen cars in front of his house, and he answered the door himself, nose bruised and swollen.

  "Ani! Hey! How are you feeling?" He gave her a gentle hug. Startled, she returned it, her head brushing against the bandage on his scalp.

  "Good, Jake. How are you?" She pulled away. His eyes were bright and alert, and all things considered, he looked pretty good.

  "I'm okay. I'm glad you're all right. Come on in." He stood aside so she could go past him.

  "I can't stay. I'm leaving for Rochester in a little while. I'm sorry I didn't see you more in the hospital—"

  "It's okay. You had your own recovering to do. I'm sorry I didn't see the truck. I should have seen, well..."

  "There's nothing you could have done," Ani said. She held out the card. "This is for you."

  "Thanks," he said, and shoved it unopened into his pocket.

  "Look, I need to get going. It's good to see you."

  "You, too," he said. "I'm glad you're okay." He hugged her again. This time he held it and squeezed.

  "Careful," she said, and he let up the pressure without letting go. She patted his back, pried herself loose, and turned back down the sidewalk toward her mom's idling car. "Happy Easter, Jake."

  "You, too, Ani."

  * * *

  The Crystal Barn was more "crystal" than "barn," with high ceilings and chandeliers of gold and crystal. Whoops. She felt underdressed in her black turtleneck and slacks. Her mom looked somehow radiant and exhausted in a black dress a little too low on top and high on the bottom, her diamond earrings sparkling in the diffused light. At least we match.

  They approached the tuxedoed maître d' and her mother said, "Brown, party of four." There's no freaking way your boyfriend's name is Mike Brown. And either it was Ani's imagination, or her mother was looking anywhere but at her.

  "The rest of your party has not arrived," the host said. "Would you like to be seated, or would you care to wait?"

  "We'll sit," her mother said. The host led them to their table—they pulled their own chairs out, thank you—and left them alone. It wasn't her imagination. Her mom looked at the chandelier, the wallpaper, the ceiling... everywhere but at Ani.

  "Your boyfriend's name is Mike Brown," Ani said. This is so not funny. "Mike. Brown."

  "I'd have told you earlier, sweetie, but I wasn't sure how you'd take it." The server interrupted, dropped off four menus, and left without taking their drink orders.

  "That's a heck of a coincidence," Ani said.

  Her mom licked her lips. "It's not a coincidence." This absolutely can't be happening.

  "You're dating Mike's dad?" Ani wanted to scream. "My Mike?"

  "He's not your Mike." Her mom smiled over Ani's shoulder. "And here they are now."

  Ani turned to look. Mr. Brown had put on weight since she'd last seen him, but otherwise looked like an older, graying version of his son. Mike belonged on the cover of GQ, ruggedly handsome in a blue three-piece suit. When he noticed them, his face darkened to a thundercloud. Surprise.

  They approached the table and her mom stood for a quick kiss, then they all sat. Mr. Brown and her mom made small talk while Mike glared at Ani from across the table. Ani shrugged at him, but he didn't let up. When she tapped his leg with her foot, he shifted out of the way.

  Mr. Brown ordered appetizers for all of them—escargot, bacon-wrapped lobster, and a duck quesadilla. Being a "vegan" meant she didn't have to touch any of it. She looked at the menu to avoid looking at Mike. It gave her another reason to scowl.

  "There's nothing vegan on this menu," Ani blurted, interrupting their small talk. Just because I'm a fake vegan doesn't mean I can't get offended on their behalf.

  "I thought of that when I picked this place," Mr. Brown said. "There's a vegetable grill pasta on the back page."

  "It comes with feta cheese. And pasta has eggs in it anyway."

  "Oh." He had the decency to look chagrined. "How about the garden salad?"

  She re
ad the entry. It looked safe. Damn. "Okay, I guess I'll have that."

  Their appetizers came. Mike ate in sullen near-silence as their parents pestered them about school. They both gave as close to monosyllabic answers as they were able. Her mom glared at her, and Mike's dad glared at him, and both tried too hard to have a good time.

  When the server took their orders, ladies first, Ani asked for the salad.

  "What kind of dressing would you like?"

  "What are my options?"

  The server's eyes rolled up as she recited the list from memory. "Um, buttermilk ranch, peppercorn ranch, parmesan vinaigrette, French, Russian, and Italian."

  "Do you have anything vegan?"

  "Italian—"

  "Has cheese in it," Ani said.

  "Russian—"

  "Made with mayonnaise."

  "French—"

  Ani rolled her eyes to her mom, who glared without sympathy at the act. "Worcestershire sauce, which is made with anchovies." She rolled them back to the server. "Just bring it dry."

  "One dry salad." She moved on to Mr. Brown, who seemed uncomfortable ordering veal in front of a vegan, but he did it anyway.

  When the server left, her mom pestered Mike about Devon. "Where's she going to school? What is she going to study? What do you guys do for fun?" Mike responded to each question with no enthusiasm or detail. Images of Devon fastening her bra in his living room throttled Ani's mood. You don't want to know what they do for fun. By question six or seven, she was ready to scream. Maybe if I fake a seizure they'll let me leave.

  "So, Ani," Mr. Brown said. "Do you have a special man in your life?"

  Ani closed her eyes so she wouldn't look at Mike. With her eyes closed, he was all she could see. I can't do this.

  "I'm a lesbian," Ani said.