Sublime Karma

by Peyton Garver

  He felt her draw in her breath, before she nodded.

  Giving her his crooked smile, he took her hand and led her out the side door, while “Blurred Lines” blared from the speakers.

  A few other couples were in the courtyard, some talking, others making out. Jake seemed oblivious, but Brie went on high alert. It was dark outside, but the patio was dimly lit. Couples came out here for one reason. Ohmigosh. This is it. Barely able to breathe, she willed herself to relax.

  “Just a second,” he said, taking a seat on the low brick wall that bordered the courtyard. “I’ve got to loosen my tie.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You’ve got me all hot and bothered.” He slipped down the knot on his tie and unbuttoned his collar.

  He looked up, his eyes locking with hers as she reached for the wide part of his tie.

  “Was this a coincidence?” she whispered, rubbing her fingers over the silken fabric.

  “I don’t think so,” he admitted, holding her steady gaze.

  “Did you know I’d be wearing this dress?”

  He shook his head. “No. But, it looks great. Why?”

  “No reason.” Her hands on his shoulders, Brie closed the space between them, challenging him.

  He stood, curving one hand around her waist, and when he pulled her to him, she closed her eyes. Their first kiss. It was exactly what she had hoped for, sweet, gentle, tender.

  He pulled back and cupping her jaw, he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

  She looked up into his eyes. What was he thinking? Feeling her cheeks warm under his scrutiny, she looked down.

  But, with one finger, he lifted her chin so he could see into her eyes again. She leaned closer. That was all the encouragement he needed to take that tender kiss to the next level. After another slow kiss, he gently took her lower lip between his teeth, lightly sucking it before releasing it as he pulled away. With his tongue, he traced her lips, barely skimming them, sending a warm rush through her. She was completely at his mercy.

  Fearing her weakening knees wouldn’t support her, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her tighter, closer. When his tongue swept in and met hers, a soft moan escaped her.

  His scent of sandalwood and cinnamon with a hint of musk was the same aroma she remembered from that first day on the bus. That wonderful scent that had lingered on the jersey he had loaned her. She fisted her fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, not wanting to let go of him, not wanting him to let go of her.

  He murmured in her ear just as she took in a much-needed breath. She could feel his heart racing against hers, his heavy breath on her neck, and his jaw moving next to her cheek.

  What was he saying? His tenor voice sent a thrill down her spine, causing her to arch into him again. Even though she could feel the teasing touch of his lips brushing the crook of her neck, she couldn’t make out his words.

  All she could hear now was the thumping of her blood pulsing in her ears. She shivered at the rush. Did he feel her shudder?

  He rested his forehead on hers. Once again, she willed herself to relax. That familiar churning fluttered through her, and the pulsing sound finally abated. Her eyes were open, but unfocused.

  “Brie? Brie, are you okay?” His voice sheer panic.

  She had completely deadpanned.

  “Brie? I’m sorry,” he whispered, releasing her. “Brie, I’m sorry, I—”

  “Stop.” she hissed. Why does he keep apologizing? All she wanted was for him to kiss her again, hold her like that again, yet he pulled away.

  While she usually felt nothing but that hollow numbness, the intensity of her feelings now frightened her. It was a primal need. That intense feeling had suddenly been replaced with dread, as if the pit of her stomach had dropped out.

  “Just . . . stop, Jake.” She trembled. Stop apologizing, like you didn’t really want to kiss me. “I need to go home,” she stepped back.

  “What?” he whispered, alarmed. “No. Brie, wait, give me a minute. I’ll drive you home.”

  Drive me home? You really don’t want me to stay. “No! No, it’s okay. I’m okay, really.” Not really. I can’t breathe. Backing up, she splayed out her hands to stop him from following.

  “Brie, wait!”

  No! Turning, she darted through the gym.

  Safely behind the wheel of her car and paralyzed with feelings she couldn’t sort, she rested her head on her steering wheel, and the numbness seeped in. “I’m here. I’m okay,” she repeated to herself. Why did he apologize? I’m such a fool. I thought he wanted me to come here tonight. He did, didn’t he?

  Fisting her hands, she stared into the distance, impassive and empty. She opened her hands and studied where her nails had bitten into her palms. Looking on the inside of her arm, just above her wrist, she stared at the two inch, vertical, barely noticeable, light brown scar.

  Touching it, she remembered everything about it. Uncurling the paperclip. Clenching her jaw and dragging the point across her flesh. She hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even thought about it.

  Frustration, stress, irritable helplessness, that’s what had spurred her. But, she’d never been able to replicate the relief from that first painful cut, not even with the perfect lines she had cut into her palm that left those mesmerizing bleeding tracks. There was always relief, but none as sweet as that first time. Maybe it was because her angry frustration had changed to a numbing emptiness.

  Breathe. I’m okay. I’m okay. Her message alert sounded, breaking the spell. She looked at the screen. Dream Guy: Brie where are you what the hell just happened?

  “You tell me,” she whispered, starting her car.

  Chapter 16

  Brie pulled into the side garage and entered her house through the service door, into the butler pantry, next to the kitchen.

  “There y’are. I tol’ your mother I’d wait up fer ya.”

  Startled by his presence, Brie hesitated.

  Blocking her path out of the butlery, Rick skimmed her body, not bothering to conceal his lascivious interest.

  Her pulse quickened, not in a good way. She wanted to flee, but there was nowhere to go but back out. This she considered, backing away from him toward the pantry.

  Sensing it like a predator with his prey, he stepped closer. “You’re lookin’ sexy t’night,” his raspy voice slurred. “I bet those horny boys were pantin’ around you like a bunch o’ dogs. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “You disgust me,” she seethed.

  “I know what you wan’. I’ll be the one to give it to ya.” He grabbed her arm.

  “Let go of me! I’ll scream,” she turned her face from the stale stench of alcohol on his breath.

  “Go ahead you little whore. Your mother’s sound asleep on th’other side o’ the house. Painkillers. Nothin’ goin’ on down here’s gonna wake her.”

  “You’re drunk. Rick, I’m warning you. Get. Off. Me,” Brie hissed, trying to yank her arm out of his firm grip. Behind him, Roxy growled, her coat bristling.

  He looked back over his shoulder at the dog. “You’re warning me?” He sneered. Turning back to her, he yanked down the single shoulder strap on her dress, exposing her. “Remember when I tol’ you we weren’t finished yet?” he lowered his gaze to her breast.

  Turning her face away, she pulled the front of her dress up with her free hand.

  “Where’s Leif now? Not comin’ to rescue his baby sister, is he?”

  Roxy postured low, bearing her teeth with another deep growl.

  “I hate you,” Brie spat out.

  The full force from the slap of Rick’s hand stung her cheek and opened her lip. Brie sucked in her bottom lip tasting blood. But, before she could respond, a snarling Roxy sank her teeth into Rick’s leg.

  “Damn dog!” he shouted, shaking
her off, before kicking her away. When Rick’s boot made contact with Roxy, she yelped, but when her head hit the cabinet, she slumped to the ground.

  Brie shoved him hard while he was still off balance, knocking him over. She heard his head thud against the granite counter, but she didn’t stop. She rounded the kitchen island, and hearing him curse her, she ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  “Roxy! Come on Roxy!” she called from her bedroom door. “Roxy!”

  Roxy didn’t come. Brie locked the door to her suite. Leaning against the door, she listened. Except for her beating heart, there was nothing but silence. She slunk down against the door, sitting with her back to it.

  Trembling, she sent a text: Leif call me Rick’s drunk he grabbed me again I think he hurt roxy

  Still holding her phone, she navigated to Dream Guy.

  She read his last text again: Brie where are you what the hell just happened?

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. Rick’s voice came back to her, ‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’ Was it all in her mind? Dream Guy? Who am I kidding? He must think I’m so desperate. It looks like I’m throwing myself at him—and Ryan. Ryan. He was there with Kelly. What am I doing? What’s everyone going to say about me? They’ll say I’m a ho. A slut. Closing her eyes, she could see her locker door: SLUT.

  She navigated back to Leif and pushed call. “Leif, pick up. Where are you?” she whimpered.

  The synthesized voice announced, “You have reached the voicemail of . . .” Brie ended the call.

  Suddenly calm, she looked at her arm where Rick had grabbed her. A bruise already forming, she touched it. But, it was as if it were someone else’s arm, suspended in front of her, surreal and distant. She closed her eyes and could see Rick leering at her. She could hear his voice again. Isn’t that what you wanted?

  They’ll say I’m a ho. In her trance, she walked to the full-length mirror in her bathroom. She placed her phone on the vanity and held her dress strap back up, peering at the face that stared back at her. She reached for her phone without looking away from the stranger in the mirror.

  Letting out a guttural sob, she pounded the mirror with her phone until the reflection she saw was a fragmented distortion of herself. Exhausted and numb, she picked up a shard of glass from the floor and climbed into her bed, not bothering to remove her dress.

  She caressed her legs, stopping at her ankles. Tracing the healing cut that ran along the outside of her right foot, she drew in her breath. “I’m sorry, Leif,” she whispered.

  She dragged the shard lightly down the length of her calf, careful not to open her skin, though more than anything she wanted to. She traced it lightly over the top of her ankle and foot, imagining the thin crimson line seeping out of the silky, flawless skin. The pain would be so much more intense there. She looked at the top of her foot again. Why was it always like that? Like she was suspended, looking down at someone else, numb and detached?

  Then, that familiar frightening rush engulfed her just before she thrust the glass shard into the top of her foot. She sucked in her breath as the pain seared hot through her. And, with that pain, that physical pain, came her sweet relief.

  She fixated on the bright thin line of blood that oozed out, following the path of the glass. Press harder, feel it. Gritting her teeth, she trembled, pressing harder, deeper, breathing in through her nostrils. And, with her heart racing, she pulled the shard further across the top of her foot. Her skin split further. The white down comforter soaked a bright red, and that brief release turned to fear. No longer a thin line, her deep cut seeped. It wouldn’t stop. It gushed. She covered the wound with her hand, pressing hard, feeling the warm, sticky substance pooling under her fingers.

  When her text alert sounded, she looked toward her phone on the ground, a few feet away, where she had dropped it. Leaving it, she looked back at her cut and at the glass shard she still clamped tightly in her other hand. She opened her hand, releasing it, letting it fall to the floor. Shaking, she pressed both hands over the gash, whimpering. “Leif, I don’t want to die.”

  She couldn’t stop the flow. Drifting now, looking back down at herself. A hallucination? A dream? Her death? She tried to keep her eyes open to see it, but she was too tired. Too empty. Still drifting, her heavy lids closed.

  Chapter 17

  Monday

  Jake made it through practice, his worst ever. After missing nearly half his passes and twice screwing up the play that Troy called off at the snap, saying he had an off day was a stretch. It totally sucked.

  Troy pulled up to the curb in front of Jake’s house. He turned off his stereo and gripped Jake’s arm. “Bro, your head wasn’t in the game today. You wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” Jake pulled his arm out of Troy’s hold, but made no move to open the car door. What could he say?

  “You’ve been avoiding everyone all day. Something happen with Brie at the dance? You didn’t answer my texts. We all thought you’d be bringing her to Danny’s party. Vic said he thought you hooked up with her, because you left when she did.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes at Troy, trying to remember exactly what it could have been that set her off. He’d gone over it in his mind so many times. And, now, Troy was fishing for answers. I can’t even come up with an answer for myself. “I dunno,” Jake murmured, shrugging. “I really don’t know. She no-showed today. And, she’s not answering my texts.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  “I’m telling you, I don’t know what the hell happened. We didn’t leave together. We were making out on the patio. I thought everything was fine, and she just took off. End of story.”

  “Psycho much?” Troy mumbled.

  Jake gave his friend a queer look, but made no comment.

  “Good luck. Hope it works out, if that’s what you want.”

  Jake opened the car door and hoisted himself out of the low bucket seat. “Thanks, bro.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  Jake pushed the door shut, and just as he turned away, Troy put the passenger window down. “Hey, Gordon,” he called. “Keep me posted. A’right? If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

  Jake nodded before Troy pulled away. Once inside, he texted her again: Brie meet me at the deer blind going there now

  “Teag, I’m home,” he called out. “I’ll be at the deer blind. If you need me, I got my phone.”

  “Okay,” she yelled from her room.

  He bolted out the back door and jogged down the path through the woods. Out of breath, he sank to the floor of the deer blind and checked his phone again. Nothing. He texted: Where are you? What’s going on?

  What the hell? Everything had seemed so—right. Jake closed his eyes thinking about that kiss and leaned back against the wall. She had to have been as affected as he was. She had to have been. So, why did she leave? Where is she? He waited another half hour.

  She’s fragile, her brother had said. His message alert broke the silence. He whipped out his phone. Teagan.

  Dad just called he’s on his way home just thought you might want to know

  Thanks be right there

  Jake looked toward Brie’s house again. Where are you?

  Tuesday

  The bus stopped. Jake looked toward her house, but when the driver pulled away, he knew she’d be absent again today.

  He methodically attended class until fifth period. Instead of heading to the gym for P.E., he walked into the Art room, Brie’s fifth period class.

  “What’s up?” he asked sitting on one of the two empty stools at the art table where Mia and Lorianne were setting up.

  “Outta my seat, Gordon.”

  He turned. “Nice to see you too, Amato.”

  “How come you’ve been ignoring my texts?” she asked, walking toward hi
m with her back to Greg. Something Jake wouldn’t have noticed a week ago.

  “Been busy,” he answered.

  She stared at him. “If you’re lookin’ for Brie, we don’t know what’s up with her, either. Maybe she has the flu.” Ari shrugged.

  He shook his head. “That wouldn’t explain why she won’t answer her texts.”

  “Oh, so you can text her, but you can’t answer mine?” With her back still to Greg, Ari’s mouth formed a thin line as she studied him.

  His forehead creased. “Huh? Ari—”

  “Never mind. Forget it.” She looked away from him and squeezed a tube of black ink into her tray.

  “Ari,” he murmured. “It’s not like you didn’t know there was something there. I mean, come on, you practically shipped me with her, remember? That tie?”

  Mia pulled Brie’s open sketchpad from the stack. Jake glanced at it. He touched the corner of the sketch. “This is Brie’s. She drew this?” His chest tightened as he lifted the corner of the page to look further. The next sketch was just started, the shape of a girl sitting alone, huddled against a wall hugging her knees. It looked like her. He lifted the page higher and pulled it closer to get a better look. Ari reached across the table and placed her hand on the pad, gently closing it.

  “Some art is personal,” she said, but left the top sketch exposed as it had been.

  He sat on Brie’s stool, looking at the large ink sketch of his deer blind. He whispered, “Does she know, that you know where this is?” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

  Ari gave him a doleful smile, but shook her head.

  He looked back at the sketch.

  Ari gave Greg a reassuring look. She stepped away from Jake, setting up her materials. “Have you tried going to her house?”