Beautiful Escape

by Jenna Storm

  “Very good,” I say, and now I’m blinking back tears. Even though he’s completely wrong, in a way, he’s not.

  Gavin looks into my eyes. “Where are the rest of your Amish friends? Don’t you all usually do that Rumspringa stuff in groups?”

  I think for a moment, licking my lips. “I suppose I’m not like the others. I want to be alone, make my way in the world for a time. See what I think, without relying on anyone from my community to distort my impressions.”

  “Okay,” he replies, seeming to think hard on this new information. “How about I take you to a motel near here? I know an affordable one. I’ll even pay for the first night for you. Sound good?”

  I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “Yes. Thank you, Gavin.”

  He reaches across the seat, leaning towards me. For a moment, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me and I’ve never wanted something so badly and been so afraid of it all at once. I just sit there, frozen in place, waiting.

  But he’s not trying to kiss me, as it turns out. He’s pulling my backpack off of me.

  “I think you’ll be more comfortable if you don’t have to sit like you’re the Hunchback of Notre Dame,” Gavin says, shaking his head again, as he places the backpack at my feet and then starts driving.

  ***

  We walk into the small lobby of the motel together. A gray haired woman with saggy jowls and glasses that make her look like an owl greets us from behind a desk. “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah,” Gavin says, stepping forward with confidence. “I’m getting a room for the night.”

  The old woman peers over her glasses disapprovingly at him, and then glances at me. She’s chewing gum. “Uh huh. That’s fifty four dollars,” she says.

  Gavin places the bills on the desk in front of her and she grabs the money, counting it with a very severe expression.

  I told Gavin I’d pay for the hotel, but he assured me he wanted to do it.

  “Thanks,” he says, as she hands him two room keys. But he slides one of them back to her. “Only need the one,” he says.

  She scowls at him. “Not staying long, are you?”

  “It’s for my friend, not me,” he tells her.

  She shakes her head. “Sure it is.” Then, she calls out sarcastically. “Enjoy yourselves!” as we’re leaving.

  The moment we exit the lobby, Gavin is laughing to himself. “That was funny.”

  “It was?” I shiver again in the cold. I’m wearing my backpack again, and feeling more alone than ever, now that I know Gavin’s about to leave me in this place by myself.

  “Yeah, I think she thought we were…you know…using the room tonight.” He glances at me and raises his eyebrows knowingly.

  I turn away from him, feeling shocked that he’d even make such a joke. “That’s ridiculous!” I shake my head, walking in front of him.

  “Hey,” he says.

  I turn around. “What?”

  “Your room’s right here.” He gestures to Room 104 and hands me the key, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  As our fingers touch, I shiver again, and this time it’s not from the cold. Not even a little. I look into his eyes and consider telling him that I want him to stay with me the night.

  Even thinking it makes me want to run screaming.

  How could I even dare? How?

  I’m a daughter of The Eternal Church of God. I’m Father’s chosen one, the person who he picked from all the others to stand beside him and tend his flock.

  How could I even consider such a fall from grace?

  Perhaps, I think, as I shakily insert the key in the door and turn, opening it—Perhaps I’ve truly been possessed.

  I walk into the room, which smells of cigarette smoke, and sweat and bad thoughts and evil deeds. The wallpaper is stained and yellow, the room is dim and poorly lit.

  Gavin looks around from the doorway, his expression concerned. “Man, this place has really gone downhill the last few years.”

  “It’s absolutely fine,” I say, shaking off my backpack. “Thank you for your help, Gavin.” My voice is formal. I’m sending him on his way.

  He looks at me and it’s as if he’s seeing into my true thoughts. “Are you okay, Alexa?”

  “Yes.” I try to sound certain, even though really I’m staring at the opening of his leather jacket, and how I can see the bare skin of his chest where his t-shirt neck is loose. I can see his skin, and he’s so very masculine, so very real and lively and strong and---different—different from anyone I’ve ever met.

  His eyes narrow as he glances me up and down. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

  “A few hours.” I pull at a strand of my hair nervously. I want him to stay so badly and yet I think if he stays something sinful might truly happen between us.

  Assuming he feels anything for you is ridiculous. Look at him and look at yourself, Alexa. The boy is muscular and strong, confident, modern and intelligent. He’s obviously quite attractive in this world, whereas you are nothing out here. You’re less than nothing.

  “I’m going to run to get some Chinese takeout,” Gavin says, his voice full of purpose. “I know a spot that’s open twenty-four hours.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask him, squinting in confusion.

  He looks at me like I’m crazy again. “Do you not know what takeout is?”

  “Should I?”

  He laughs and then his expression turns somber. “Shit, you’re serious.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not as worldly as you, Gavin,” I tell him, feeling my cheeks flush once more.

  Of course he’s not interested or attracted in any way to you, Alexa. Look at him. Look at how stupid he thinks you are.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Gavin says. “Relax.”

  “I’m perfectly relaxed.”

  He grins again. “Sure. Well,” he says, rapping on the doorframe with his knuckles, “I’m going to show you what takeout is and then you can decide if you like it or not.”

  “Okay,” I give in. I have to force myself not to smile again, and it feels strange that I have to resist just being myself with him.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Maybe it’s not really the outside world that’s crazy. Perhaps it really is Father and the church who’ve gotten everything wrong.

  I hate that Gavin makes me think such evil thoughts, but he does.

  “I’ll be back,” he says, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “Don’t go getting into any trouble while I’m gone.”

  “I won’t,” I tell him, trying to sound sure of myself. But as he turns and leaves, I realize that I’ve just lied again. Every single moment that Gavin Brooks is in my mind puts my very soul in danger.

  And there’s nothing I can do to resist him.

  GAVIN

  Getting into my car and driving to Han Asia on Belmont Street, I’m asking myself just what the hell I’ve gotten into with this girl.

  She could be absolutely anything. Yeah, she seems like an Amish chick, but other than watching one ninety-minute documentary about them a couple years back, you know absolutely nothing about the Amish culture.

  Maybe she’s lying.

  Maybe she’s totally fucking crazy.

  I pull into the parking lot of the Chinese restaurant and get out, trying to shake off the sensation that I’m getting in over my head. But that’s just ridiculous. I wasn’t over my head in Syria—there’s no way I’m over my head with some country girl who jumps at the sound of a four-cylinder engine.

  You’re just going to bring her some cheap takeout, because she obviously has almost no money and she’s hungry. That’s where you’re obligation ends.

  You leave her the food and then head home. Don’t even give her your cell number, nothing. She won’t be able to contact you and you’ll stay far away from this motel. She’ll be gone in a day or two and then you’ll never see or think about her again.

  As I walk inside the restaurant, I can’t
escape the feeling that I want to spend more time with Alexa, but that doing so would be an enormous mistake.

  Trust your instincts. Do you really want to mess her up with all of your baggage?

  “Can I help you?” the thin man in a black uniform asks me from behind the counter. In the background of the kitchen, a couple of people are stirring giant vats of food. I can’t even imagine what might be in there, nor do I want to.

  One of the cooks has an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth as he works.

  I look up at the menu overhead and start ordering all the basic go-to Chinese food classics. If Alexa really hasn’t ever tried spare ribs, pork fried rice, or General Chau’s Chicken, she’s going to be in for quite a treat.

  After I order and pay, I sit down at one of the benches near the window and stare outside at the mostly empty streets.

  A couple of teenagers come inside moments later and order, laughing at the waiter and making overall derogatory comments.

  At one point, one of them catches my eye and I give him a particularly stony glare to let him know that his brand of humor doesn’t tickle me.

  He immediately calms down and nudges his friend to do the same.

  I sigh, picturing Alexa in that crummy motel room, staring at the old wallpaper and dirty ancient carpeting as she tries to make sense of it all. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to grow up so removed from all of the things I take for granted.

  She’s probably never used a dishwasher, or driven a car, watched cable television, gone to a movie theatre, shopped at the mall, gone to a concert or even listened to an MP3. She’s never texted a friend or gone online to check the news or watch a video.

  It’s mind-blowing to think of the different way she must perceive the world from how I look at it.

  My order comes up, bagged and ready to go. I grab it, brushing past the two teenage boys who both glare balefully and resentfully at me as I go.

  Inside the car, I can’t stop thinking about her.

  What is my problem?

  I don’t know her, she’s a stranger, and yet I feel this strange protective instinct. It’s like she’s a stray cat I’ve found and I don’t like even being away from her just to get some food. I’m jittery, driving over the speed limit to get to the motel more quickly.

  I’m excited to see her again.

  I park and walk quickly back to her room. The door’s still open--she never even bothered to shut it. She clearly doesn’t understand that the city at night is a dangerous place, unlike the farm she came from.

  “Hey,” I call out, as I enter the grungy room with the bag of food in my hand and place it on the rickety coffee table.

  Alexa is sitting on the floor, legs crossed, watching me as if I’m an alien. “That’s takeout?” she asks.

  I try hard not to bust out laughing. “Yeah, this is takeout. Chinese food.”

  She nods seriously, like a student trying hard to understand a math problem. “And you can get it all day and all night.”

  “This place you can.” I open the bag and the strong smell of food wafts out and permeates the room.

  Alexa’s getting more interested as I remove the little white and red cartons from the brown bag and place them on the table in front of her. She sits forward, craning her head to see what I’m doing.

  “It smells wonderful,” she remarks.

  I hand her a pair of chopsticks. “Now, these are utensils,” I explain, breaking my chopsticks apart and showing her how to hold them. “They’ve got plastic forks too, but if you want to be authentic—“ I click my chopsticks together—“then you use these bad boys.”

  Alexa stares at her chopsticks uncomprehendingly. “How would I pick food up with sticks?”

  “Here, watch me.” I open the carton of fried rice and dip my chopsticks in and pick up a small mouthful. Then I hand the carton to her. “You try.”

  Alexa takes a deep breath, as if she’s about to jump off a cliff into a small pool of water. She tries to hold her chopsticks, but her grip is very suspect. When she digs in, grains of rice fly out of the carton and land on the carpet. “Oh, no!” she cries out, eyes wide and frightened. “I’m so sorry. I—I made a mess everywhere.”

  I start to laugh. “It’s no big deal.” But I can tell that she’s truly troubled at having spilled a few grains of rice on this shitty motel carpet. “Alexa, don’t worry. A lot worse things have been spilled on this carpet—trust me.”

  She smiles hesitantly.

  I reach out and help her adjust her grip on the chopsticks. Touching her porcelain, delicate skin, feeling her fingers beneath mine, I get a strange and surprising sensation in my gut.

  You don’t actually like her, Gavin. This is just some weird big brother complex. You want to save this chick or something.

  I try to argue myself out of the tremendous feeling that’s come over me, but it’s getting difficult. “Thanks,” she says, as she gets her hold on the chopsticks and uses them to actually pick up some food and gets it successfully into her mouth.

  “I did it,” she says, truly in awe. When her eyes looks up and meet mine, I know that I want to kiss her.

  I should just do it. She’s staring at me, her naturally pouty lips seem perfect for this moment, and I can tell exactly how soft they’ll feel when I kiss them. I can tell that her lips will be sweet and soft and willing, and that once I start kissing them it might be impossible to stop.

  I swallow and look away, and then I get up and walk over to the door. “You need to keep this door shut and locked,” I say, a bit of an impatient sound to my voice.

  “Oh. Okay, I’ll make sure to do that, Gavin.”

  I turn around and watch her eating slowly with her chopsticks. “This food is delicious,” she says. “What did you say this is called again?”

  “Pork fried rice,” I reply, watching her and feeling like my stomach’s in knots.

  She’s beautiful. Look at her. She doesn’t even have a clue just how beautiful and sexy she is, but she’s going to find out fast.

  I picture her with some other guy, laughing, kissing, lounging on some sandy beach on vacation together. Someday she’ll just be a normal woman with a boyfriend, a job, an apartment…

  Why can’t I be that guy?

  What’s to stop it from being me who ends up with her?

  Except that I know it’s impossible, because I’m broken. Maybe I wasn’t always broken—I’m not sure if I was or not.

  But I know that I’m broken now. I’ve done things that can never be undone and those things changed who I am—changed me into something unrecognizable. I’ll never be a regular guy with normal thoughts and feelings and emotions. That Gavin is gone, never to return.

  He went away, lost in a brutal land with a hot sun that burned him from my bones, took him and sacrificed him to an ancient god that I hadn’t even known existed.

  I can see that knowledge of how much I’ve changed in the haunted, sad eyes of my family, friends, even my mother. They’re all waiting for the old me to return, hoping against hope that slowly I’ll come back to them.

  Only I know the truth—that it’s never going to happen.

  “Sit down and eat with me,” Alexa says, sliding over and motioning to the floor beside her.

  I shake my head, knowing that to be so close to her would only invite trouble. I’m way too attracted to her. Everything in me wants to kiss her, hold her, and after that it’s unlikely I’d be able to stop wanting more.

  “I should probably get going,” I say.

  Alexa looks sadder than I expected. “Oh,” she says. “Yes, I suppose it’s very late.”

  I feel angry. I’m angry with myself for being unable to just sit next to her and have some food, bitter at God for making this world a place where things can happen like what I’ve seen and experienced in the Middle East, and I’m even angry with Alexa for being so beautiful and strange and unique.

  If she could’ve been a little more ordinary, it wouldn’t hurt so much to leave
this room right now.

  “It was really nice to meet you,” I say, standing over by the doorway and shuffling my feet. “You’re going to do well here.”

  Alexa meets my gaze and nods her head. “You’ve helped me a lot, Gavin. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “It was nothing. I wish I could do more.” Truer words were never spoken.

  We stare at each other for what feels like a long time. I expect her to look away, blush, something to show that she’s annoyed by this little staring contest.

  But she doesn’t do anything except look back at me, her eyes unwavering.

  Time seems to stretch out and everything inside me says to go to her, kiss her, tell her that I’ll protect her forever.

  Instead, I start to back out of the room.

  “Don’t be a stranger, Gavin,” she calls out.

  I close the door as I leave the room and start toward my car. As I get inside and sit in the driver’s seat, anger builds inside my chest. I smash my palm into the steering wheel and scream with frustration.

  “Fuck it.” I turn the ignition and the engine starts.

  I can still see her through the window. She’s on the floor, her head bowed. She looks so small and alone, scared and disappointed.

  My heart actually aches and I put my hand to my chest, surprised by the intensity of what I’m feeling for this girl.

  You don’t know her, Gavin. This can’t be about her. Can’t be.

  I start slowly driving out of the parking lot when I notice a drunken man staggering off the sidewalk and into the motel parking lot. I hit the breaks and watch as he continues weaving, stumbling, tipping his 40 ounce beer bottle to his lips and drinking, before he continues forward once more.

  My hands clench the wheel.

  She’s got her blinds open, exposing herself in that room at ground level to whatever creep happens to come by. Did she even lock the door behind me? Of course not. She doesn’t know any better.

  The girl’s a sitting duck for any predator who notices her.