Scared of Beautiful

by Jacqueline Abrahams

  My phone rings incessantly, and after the fourth attempt I decide to see who the persistent little asshole might be. Jade. I’m relieved that it’s not Emmanuel or Maia for that matter.

  “Hey,” I answer sounding every bit as dejected as I feel.

  “Jackson, what is going on? Why is Maia calling me so hysterical that she can’t speak?”

  “She’ll be okay,” I answer simply.

  “What do you mean, Jackson, what the hell happened?” Jade is not in the mood for short and sharp answers, judging by the irritation in her voice.

  “I told her that we were done,” I say simply.

  “You were already done,” Jade says exasperated. “Why is she hysterical now? Jackson, start talking.”

  I don’t want to talk about this shit now, even though I know Jade means well.

  “Jade, Maia and I won’t work. I thought that she was less self-absorbed than the trust fund babies she grew up with, but she’s really not that different. I’m done jumping through hoops. At what point do I actually get to say, fuck it, I’m done with complicated?” Jade listens to my half-rant quietly before replying.

  “You know what Jackson, what makes you so different from Maia? You think she had it easy growing up? She had her own set of issues. How dare you dismiss them like that?” Jade’s voice is reprimanding, she’s good and pissed now. “Tell the fucking truth Jackson,” she orders.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “You’re right. I am thinking of myself. Maia is happy to keep me at arm’s length. I’m allowed to jump in her bed, but not to be with her. It’s fucking torture Jade, every day. Not to mention the fact that after next week, I’ll be a criminal, whether I get caught or not.”

  “What is Emmanuel holding over you?” Jade asks quietly.

  “You, her, it doesn’t even matter,” I sigh. “It’s over anyway.”

  “So you rip her heart out to keep her safe?” Jade retorts sarcastically.

  “She does not want to be with me, Jade, she made that clear!” I say, completely over this conversation.

  “See, this is why I date girls. You guys don’t get shit! She just needed time!” Jade’s voice raises an octave every time she speaks.

  “Jade I have to go,” I say, and before she can protest, I press the end button.

  I walk into my dorm room, fling my phone onto the bed, and slam my fist straight through the plasterboard wall, before collapsing onto my bed, mentally exhausted and miserable. Tomorrow will be a better day. It has to be, because nothing could be worse than the shit pile that was today. Images of Maia invade my mind, my every thought, and for the first time since we met, I find myself trying desperately to push them away. I welcome sleep and pray that she doesn’t haunt me there, too.

  The next morning I wake up and decide to head back to Atlanta early. The prospect eliminates the risk of me running into Maia, allows me to keep an eye on Emmanuel, and make sure he stays away from my family and friends. Not to mention, this way I’m able to gauge what the hell he’s up to.

  I had hoped that when I woke up, I’d be in some kind of an alternate universe, where nothing else existed except Maia and me, and where all of this bullshit had disappeared. But sadly, I awoke to the sounds of the same stoner roommate, and no word from Maia. Not that I’m surprised. I make a call to Emmanuel, telling him to buy the airline ticket and I make my way over to the airport. So long, Brown. It’s been real.

  Emmanuel’s ugly ass monster truck is waiting for me when I walk out of the terminal. I fling my bag into the back and climb wordlessly into the front seat. “What, no hello, homie?” Emmanuel jibes.

  “We’re not fucking friends, not anymore. This is business. Let’s just get this shit over with,” I reply coldly.

  Turns out that Emmanuel’s master plan involves hijacking an armored van in the middle of the night. Truthfully, I didn’t think he was that damn clever, but when he tells me the finer details I realize that he has actually thought it through. That it may just work. Better still, my role is small. He and his man on the inside, the second armored guard, jack the truck. My job is to cover them with a nine-millimeter and make sure we get away. The guard stays behind and will give a bogus description of the robbers.

  “What about the other guard, the driver. Won’t he be able to identify you?” I ask.

  “He won’t live to tell anyone,” Emmanuel replies, devoid of any emotion.

  Murder? No one said anything about fucking murder.

  Emmanuel pulls up to my house and looks over towards me. “Monday night. And Jay, don’t go soft on me. That’s the type of shit that gets people killed.”

  Jade comes over almost immediately after I walk through the door. I sent her a text to say that I had landed earlier. I expected a not so positive reaction from my parents when I walked back into the house. My father’s brow furrows with concern and my mother wrings her hands nervously around a kitchen towel. They assume, and let’s face it, with my past, who could blame them, that I’m back here up to no good. They would be right. After greeting them and spending over an hour reassuring them, Jade and I make our way to my bedroom. I breathe a huge sigh of relief at the fact that my mother didn’t ask after Maia. The same as we did when we were growing up, we sit across from each other on the bed cross-legged. Old habits die hard. I have a feeling that she wants to discuss my situations with both Maia and Emmanuel. The first I don’t want to discuss, and the latter I can’t. Jade probes, nonetheless.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she says, her face clouded with concern.

  “I do. It gets Emmanuel off my back,” I reply, distractedly fingering the corner of my pillow.

  “For how long? How long before he threatens you again? Before he threatens to hurt me or Maia or your parents? He’ll hold that shit over you every time.”

  I know she’s right. “What do I do Jade? You know he always follows through,” I argue.

  “I don’t like the way you treated Maia,” Jade says, the disapproval evident in her tone. “I don’t particularly approve of the way she treated you, either. But if you’re in love with her and she’s in love with you, I don’t see the issue.”

  “Neither do I, Jade!” I say throwing my hands up in frustration. “Maybe Maia really is more damaged than any of us realized,” I say, feeling tortured that I couldn’t change that for her.

  “It’ll work out eventually,” Jade says knowingly.

  “Really?” I say sarcastically. “Because the last time I checked, shit does not work out for me. The universe fucking hates me, Jade. Things in my life are meant to be fucked up, and hard. That’s just the way it is. And it’s about fucking time I accepted my position and just got on with it.” I take a deep frustrated breath.

  Jade moves in and wraps her arms around my neck, staring me resolutely in the eye. “You need to understand what it’s like for Maia. You chose to fall in love with Shana, lose your virginity to her. You may not be rich, but you were never short of love from your parents. And your life got fucked up because of the people you chose to run with and the things, and women you chose to do. She was a kid, she never had any of that and she never had a choice. Why is it so hard for you to understand that she has trust issues?”

  “I do understand, Jade,” I sigh, deflated, “I understand that we will always be very different people from very different places. She’s better without me. I’m gonna end up locked up eventually.”

  “By your choice!” Jade is obviously getting angry, but her face softens as she looks up at me. “Please reconsider this shit with Emmanuel. Jackson, please.”

  “It’s already done.” I answer flatly. “I already committed to it, you know how it works in these parts when you backpedal.”

  Jade leaves my house frustrated at being unable to dissuade me from working my way towards prison with Emmanuel. I spend the next few hours clutching a pencil, trying to pen the poem I promised Maia so long ago. I succeed in creating a million paper snowballs, which lay crumpled across my bedr
oom floor. Fuck it! I think before flinging on my jeans and a t-shirt and deciding to drown my sorrows with alcohol.

  The stench of beer and sweat greets me as I arrive at the local club. I notice more than a few familiar faces, and ignore each and every one of them before making my way over to the bar. The bar’s owner, Terry has tried in vain to rip off Hooters by having stripper waitresses work the joint, but in the hood, they just all look like coke whores with trays. The bartender, a leggy Puerto Rican with jet black hair, is about the only decent looking female in this shit hole.

  Before long, I’ve had a few too many beers and one too many shots of whiskey. The world sways pleasantly around me, and slowly but surely the memories of my real life begin to dissipate. The bartender makes every effort to engage me in some random conversation every five minutes, and it’s not until I lose my senses via alcohol imbibing that I start to pay attention. She’s fucking hot, and I can’t say I hesitate when she takes my hand and walks me around the side of the bar to the back room. Her boss gives her a brief nod before she leads me into a small back office.

  My mind may be totally fucked up, but my dick knows what to do in this situation. She moves in to kiss me, but I bring my hands up to her shoulder and turn her away. This is not love. I don’t fucking want love, so we don’t kiss. I lean her forward over the office desk and pull her short leather skirt up over her ass. No underwear, easy access. Very nice. I like easy. In less than ten seconds, I slip a condom on and slide into her from behind with a force. She lets out a moan, and I want to tell her to shut the hell up. She doesn’t sound like Maia. She’s nowhere near as tight either. She moans louder. My hand comes up over her mouth. Shut the fuck up. I close my eyes and slam my dick into her over and over again, all the while the memory of Maia riding me stays front and center in my mind. I come with a force that pushes the table forward a few inches, and I fall forward with my hands on either side of her. The hot bartender pulls her skirt down and turns to face me, smiling. She really is smoking hot. Not for me, but smoking hot. And just like that, wordlessly, I tuck myself into my pants and walk back out the door. I’ll barely remember this tomorrow, and that’s a very good thing. The old Jackson has returned. I’m back bitches, I think with sad smile.

  Chapter 29

  Maia

  I replay in my mind over and over a thousand times why Jackson and I are where we are, and how we got here. But as much as I try to spin it, I’m to blame. It was me; I did this. I pushed him further and further away until I pushed him all the way back to Atlanta. With the exception of flinging on my Ugg boots and walking across to the Bean for coffee every morning, I have relegated myself to my apartment. And to sweatpants. Blake watches me curiously as I walk straight in and walk straight out, avoiding all eye contact with any other living human being. The sloppy bun at the top of my head flops heavily, pressurizing my already sore, sleep-deprived brain. Before Blake has the time to make eye contact and initiate a conversation, I’ve usually grabbed my coffee and made a beeline for the door.

  This is what I had intended to happen at the onset of the college year. I was supposed to be a small blip on much bigger radar, virtually undetectable, so that I would never be put in the situation that I now face. That didn’t happen. Being in love with Jackson is, err was, amazing, terrifying, beautiful, and horrible. And now, now that whatever it was is over, I’d do anything to get it back. By the third day, with still no word from Jackson, or even from Jade about Jackson, the reality of our last conversation starts to sink in. I must admit that in keeping Jackson at arm’s length, not once in the whole few weeks that we spent together, did I think that he would actually leave. I’d like to think that he had his reasons, but my rational mind tells me that that he didn’t. He left quite simply because I was a bitch.

  On day four, I actually put on a pair of jeans when doing my coffee run. Progress. The Clever Bean is packed with patrons lounging around to escape the rain after having breakfast. The weather is as dismal as my mood. Not to mention that the sight of food has been intolerable to me in the last few days. A familiar smile greets me as I walk over to the coffee bar.

  “Hi,” Blake smiles warmly as I approach.

  I greet him with a pained smile. “Hey,” I answer with very little enthusiasm.

  “Why are you making coffee?” I ask, mildly half curious.

  “Sick call,” he replies simply. I nod back.

  Blake’s warm smile is a pleasant change from the stark neutral walls of my apartment. He doesn’t, however grab my attention like Jackson could, not with his smile, or his eyes. My heart seizes painfully as I realize, that I don’t think anyone ever will.

  I suspect that Blake doesn’t really need to be at the Bean as much as he is. For any other red blooded female, this hot, well-bred and sweet man would be a godsend. For me, his presence just reminds me that I really don’t give a shit about anyone else who appears interested in me. Which in turn makes me miss Jackson. Nonetheless, after Blake’s incessant nagging and ramblings on about the medical necessity for food in one’s body, I agree to meet him later in the evening for a quick dinner. The invitation does absolutely nothing to improve my mood. I am aware that I’m moping, also aware that the moping is a result of my own actions, but none of those realizations will change how I feel. Back in the apartment, my fingers hover over the keypad on my cell, debating whether or not to dial Jackson’s number. I chicken out and call Jade instead.

  First attempt goes to voicemail. I dial again, and Jade’s voice fills my ears, the sweetest sound I’ve heard all week. “Hey, babe!” Jade answers with enthusiasm.

  “Hi,” I say casually, “I’m glad you answered.” The sadness of Jade’s distance is eating at me.

  “You sound awful, Maia. I’d ask if everything is okay, but since Jackson is back in Atlanta, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that you aren’t,” Jade replies sympathetically.

  “I’m fine,” I say. I’m doing a shit job of convincing myself of that, and anyone with half a brain for psychology knows that I’m fine translates to everything could not be any more fucked up.

  Jade’s voice develops a worried edge. “You need to do something about this. Jackson is quite literally going off the rails. Again. I haven’t seen him behave so destructively since, well, since Shana left. But this time it’s much worse. And whatever Emmanuel has him doing…” Jade’s voice tapers off, small and desperate. “I’m worried Maia, he’s barely at home. Every time I do see him, he has a glass in his hand, and not with water in it, either. Just ask him to come back, before he ends up in jail, or worse.”

  “Jade, he made himself very clear,” I reply, my eyes filling with unshed tears. “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, that’s what he said.”

  “And everything is that black and white, is it? You really believe that?” Jade replies, frustrated. “He’s not perfect, but he was damn close for you. He was trying. And you wanna tell me you believed that shit!” Her voice is accusatory, angry.

  I should never have made this call. Wallowing in self-pity would have been the better option. “I should go,” I say quietly.

  “Maia, just…please wait,” Jade says softly. “I didn’t mean to put that on you, but I’m really worried about him.”

  “I know,” I say, tears now streaming down my face, “but I can’t help.” I press the end button on the phone. How the fuck was I going to be helpful or of any use to anyone, when I was still so desperately trying to figure out how to fucking help myself?

  The day rolls on with its miserable weather, much like the few before it. As the evening approaches, I find myself getting anxious about meeting Blake for dinner. I send him a text, cancelling. There’s no point dragging someone else into this miserable world I’ve managed to carve out for myself.

  Tomorrow then? The reply is so short, yet hope pours through the reply. Poor bastard. If only he knew what a tortured soul he was dealing with.

  I don’t feel like going out, I’m sorry. I press send and hope that
he gets the hint. I’m wrong.

  We discussed that food is necessary for you to live. At least let me bring you some if you’d rather not go anywhere. I sigh with annoyance. Persistence can be a sweet thing, but right now, it’s the thing that makes me want to scream and break this damn phone.

  Knowing that my efforts to dodge Blake are futile, I agree. Fine, I’m on the top floor apartment. Tomorrow, 7pm. A smiley face reply is all that he sends back. Good, now I have a full 24 hours to figure out how to get out of it. With that handled I return to my bed and pull the covers over my head in an attempt to escape somehow. Blissful slumber is the only thing that pushes the thoughts of Jackson from my mind, and as I drift off, I hope and pray that he’s not waiting for me in my dreams.

  Chapter 30

  Jackson

  The last few days have been such a fucking blur. I struggle to recall where I’ve been and with who. There is something to be said for never allowing your body to sober up. I now get why Maia refused to feel anything; the numbness is very close to heaven. But the minute her name pops into my head, the drunken stupor I’m in sends me spiraling downwards. I’ve already had words with Emmanuel. Apparently. one must be sober to participate in major criminal activity. Who the fuck knew, right? So, I have promised to stop drinking today, in order to be a model criminal tonight. I lay in my bed, remembering what Maia and I did here. My dick rises to attention of its own volition. Figures. Every time I have even attempted to speak to a woman since my encounter with the bartender, my brain forces me to get the fuck away. It feels too much like I’m stepping out on Maia. My dick is angry about this. It just wants to act a fool.

  At nine that night, Emmanuel pulls up at my house in a stolen Toyota, the license plates purposely muddied. I jump in the passenger seat as we make our way over to the underpass, to meet the hijacked armored van.