I know that Jack would have been there for me and sacrificed everything to keep me safe. I guess that’s part of it. Even at sixteen, I knew that I could lean on him and he would protect me. He told me he was going to kill Ralph, but that would have only landed him in jail, me still with my mom and ruined any chance of him ever making something of himself.
“I’m sorry, Jack. So sorry.” I can’t help but let every iota of guilt and sadness spill over. My body starts shaking and the tears are falling freely onto his chest. All I had to do was let him tell his mom and I wouldn’t have had to go through the last four years. I could have had a home and gone to college, but I was stupid and thought I knew everything.
“Shh, Dallas, you have nothing to be sorry for. What’s going on?” I look up at him and he’s scanning my eyes for the truth and then staring at Robbie, waiting for one of us to tell him what’s going on.
“I’m going to give you guys some time. I’ll be back with coffee in a little while,” Robbie says, walking past Jack and me. He squeezes my arm, reassuring me that everything will be okay without having to say anything. Robbie throws on his shoes, grabs his keys and he’s out the door, leaving me to deal with Jack on my own.
We sit down on the couch that Robbie made up for himself last night. I cross my legs and face him, trying to prepare myself to delve into the life I’ve led, and praying that he doesn’t think I’m a terrible, disgusting person.
I start at the beginning, right after I ran away, and recount the nights I slept on the street and was almost raped by a crack head. Right before Robbie walks back in the door, I’m telling him about what happened last night, excluding the fact that Robbie paid me for sex, but I tell him everything else. He pulls me across the couch and into his lap, holding me like a small child.
“Dal, I’m so fucking sorry. I had no idea. You never told me, you should have.” I feel moisture falling onto my lap so I pull back and realize that Jack’s crying. The guilt is too much and I’m crying right along side of him when Robbie walks in, carrying coffee for all of us.
“Do I need to come back?” He hesitantly walks over the threshold, but doesn’t shut the door behind him, anticipating needing to leave.
“No, it’s okay, we’re good.” Jack dries his face with the back of his sleeve and I scoot to the cushion right next to him.
Robbie distributes the coffee and we’re all sitting in the living room in an uncomfortable silence. I don’t want to be the first to talk, but someone has to say something.
“I really should be getting back to my room. If I’m gone too long, the owner will consider it abandoned and have everything cleaned out.”
Jack’s head pops up and the look in his eyes is terrifying. “There’s absolutely no way you’re going back to that fucking dump. I’ll take you to get your stuff, but then you’re coming back to Mom’s with me.” Robbie looks like he wants to interject, but must see the steam billowing out of Jack’s ears and decides against it.
“I can’t go back to your mom’s, Jack. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t mooch off her or you. I’ll be okay, I promise.”
“Fucking right, you’ll be okay. You’re coming home with me. That’s the end of it.” I know Jack well enough that once he has his mind set to something, there’s no taking him off course. He’s right, that’s the end of it; this life is over for me and I’m going home with him.
I stand up and walk over to Robbie. He stands and I wrap my arms around his waist. He kisses my head and whispers in my ear, “It’s nice to have you back, Dallas. Take care of yourself, yeah?” His words almost seem like goodbye, but it’s a fresh start for me and I can’t help but be grateful for him walking into the club last night. He might not be my Prince Charming but he saved me. He saved my life.
Jack drives me back to the motel to gather the little bit of belongings that I have. It doesn’t take more than a duffle back to pack my life away. I had to beg Jack to stay in the car so he doesn’t have to see the way I’ve been living. I’ve never been embarrassed by my life until recently, and if that says anything, it should tell you that I’ve been selling myself short and realizing self worth is such an amazing concept. I recommend that everyone does it at least once in their life.
Of course, Jack’s mom, my aunt, has no problem taking me in. Giving her a brief rundown of the last four years, much like her son, she’s in tears and hugging me relentlessly. She’s telling me what a pathetic excuse for a mother my mom is and how I should have come to her and told her what was going on. I really thought I was saving everyone from the pain of my story by not telling; now I realize that I did more damage than good.
Apparently, my mother and Ralph moved to Florida a few weeks ago for Ralph to follow a job. I should be upset that I had to hear this from my biological father’s sister, but knowing that they’re not in the same town as me leaves me in a state of peace. The whole ride back here, I was terrified of running into one or both of them.
Jack moved out of his mom’s house last year when he graduated from college. He had an amazing little apartment in the basement that his mom graciously handed over to me. It has its own entrance, a little kitchenette, bedroom, living area and bathroom. Really, it’s like I’m living on my own with the safety of my aunt living upstairs and Jack only a few miles away. She wants me to get my GED, enroll in school and then work on getting a job. She says that under no circumstances will she accept any rent from me, that my payment to her will be my grades. How the hell did I get so fucking lucky?
The very next week, I enroll in a GED prep program that basically goes over all the stuff that will be on each test. I’m shocked when I test out of every class there is to take. I forgot how smart I am and all the information came back to me so quickly, I aced every single pre-test. They signed me up to take the actual state mandated test a few weeks later.
It really was no surprise that I didn’t need the entire allotted time given to finish the testing and walked out of the classroom with the unofficial reports that said I passed and am the proud carrier of a GED. I’m sure that the other people in the room were looking at me like I had lost my mind, but the smile plastered all over my face as I walked out to the car is so damn bright, I could light the night. This is the very first milestone I’ve ever completed that means something to me. I’m on my way.
Here it is, two months since Robbie walked into that dirty strip club with his buddies and saved my life. Looking into the floor-length mirror on the back on my bedroom door, I’m astonished at how far I’ve come in such a short amount of time. My hair is no longer lifeless, but perfectly curled blonde locks are pinned back away from my face and hanging casually down my back. My skin has cleared up and the porcelain look is back, and more importantly, the sparkle in my sapphire blue eyes shines bright. I’ve gained some weight back, in all the right places might I add, and the pale pink dress hangs perfectly on my body.
I’m me again. Well, not really me, but the new me. The person that I always wanted to be—accomplished and going somewhere in life.
Since I received my GED in the mail last week, my aunt decided it was only appropriate to have some sort of party, since I never got an actual graduation party. I don’t know that many people around here anymore, but she’s invited Jack over and we’re going to grill out and celebrate my small accomplishment that means the world to me.
Satisfied with my appearance, I walk up the stairs and out the private door leading to the back yard. I’m taken aback when I see the balloons and cake—more importantly, when I see Jack and Robbie sitting at the picnic table, each with a beer in hand and looking at me with pride in their eyes. I walk over to where they’re sitting and grab a beer from the cooler.
“Wait a second there, Dallas. You won’t be twenty-one for another few weeks, I don’t think you’re allowed to have one of those,” Jack jokes, trying to take the beer from my hand.
“I’m drinking this beer and you’re gonna watch me. Plus, I earned this,” I retort, jerking the beer away fr
om his grasp and sitting next to Robbie.
He takes the drink from my hand, turns the cap and hands back the open bottle. I take a quick swig and set it down in front of me.
“So, what are you guys up to? I didn’t know you were coming, too,” I say to Robbie, nudging his leg under the table.
“Well, Robbie here thinks he needs my permission for something.” My eyes shoot to Jack, then back to Robbie and back to Jack again.
“What are you talking about? Permission for what?”
Robbie turns to me, putting his hand on my thigh where the dress has ridden up, “Well, I would like to ask you on a date, but I felt like I needed to make sure that it was okay with Jack.”
My mouth drops open, shocked that we’re actually having a conversation like this. Not only is it awkward to have someone asking Jack for permission to date me, but Robbie thinking he needs to ask me on a date after we’ve had sex comes as a surprise.
“Well, what did Jack say?” I need to buy some time here.
“I said yes, of course,” Jack chuckles. “Personally, I find it extremely funny that he’s asking you on a date, especially after the entire neighborhood heard the theatrics the morning I came to pick you up.”
My face instantly heats and it’s not just my face that’s turning red; I can see the flush creeping up my legs.
“Jack,” I whisper, shocked that he hadn’t said anything sooner.
“Oh, come on. I knew you weren’t in the shower when I was knocking. I knew exactly what was going on.” Jack raises his eyebrows repeatedly.
“Oh my gosh, Jack. Stop it.” My hands fly to my mouth, covering it before I say something about the night prior, when Robbie paid me for sex.
Robbie is laughing hysterically when my aunt brings over a serving plate of steaks and baked potatoes.
“What’s so funny?” she questions.
“Nothing, Mom. We’re just telling a funny story.”
I take my fork and stab a steak off the plate, transferring it to mine while Robbie eyes me suspiciously. I’m trying to ignore his looks, but I can feel his gaze even though my hair has fallen in front of my face, creating a makeshift shield.
“So?” Robbie asks.
“What?”
“Would you like to go on a date with me, Dallas?” When he whispers that in my ear, my senses are on full alert and that all too familiar shiver going down my spine would make me fall to my knees if I wasn’t already sitting.
“I would love to go on a date with you.” And there you have it, folks. I’m officially a reformed woman. Not only am I going places in life, I’m going to go on a date. And not the kind of date where a John picks me up on a corner, fucks me in the backseat of his car and gives me my sixty bucks. A real date—where a boy is going to pick me up, probably with flowers, and take me to dinner.
The moral of the story is this; not all fairytales have the typical, cliché start and finish. Boy meets girl, they fall in love instantly, get married, get the white picket fence and two point five children and drive a minivan. More times than not, someone is fucked up, has a shitty life and all it takes is one gesture of genuine care and concern to change everything. Robbie did that for me. He found me in the gutter, cared for me, turned me over to the people that love me more than anything and brought me back to life.
Robbie put the sparkle back in my sapphire blues.
About the Author
Ashley Suzanne is a married mother of three little boys, as well as a daughter, aunt, sister, best friend, birth mother, blogger, book whore, and author. Ashley is a native to the suburbs of Detroit, with most of her family living in Kentucky and New York.
Ashley may be found on social media at:
Facebook: Ashley Suzanne Books
Twitter: @itsashleyyo
Website: www.ashleysuzanneauthor.blogspot.com
Books by Ashley Suzanne include:
The Destined Series
Mirage
Inception
Awakening
Façade
Epiphany
Shouting with Silence
by Kahlen Aymes
Edited by Kathryn Voskuil
An off-Broadway actress struggles with whether to continue an online relationship that has been a constant presence in her life. But when the enigmatic man she chats with refuses to allow her to truly get to know him, she is forced to face the fact that words—while powerful—may not be enough.
“The glory of friendship is not in the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is in the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when he discovers that someone else believes in him and is willing to trust him.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
The final curtain had fallen.
It was dark and quiet after the last show of a national tour of a Broadway musical. It was huge, an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical and the biggest break of my career to date.
Touring and performing was exhausting and the loneliness? It was the worst. The endless stream of faces began to blur as the cities piled up behind the four buses and three semi-trailers that carried the cast and set over the endless miles of pavement.
The only constant was my roommate and cast-mate, Kayla. She was from Topeka, Kansas, and came to New York after she ran away from home at the age of seventeen. I met her at after seeing her at a few of the grueling auditions, cut after cut as they narrowed down the cast for this show. The girl had moxie. I would miss her, but some of the people were catty and self-serving; those jealous few who begrudge others with any modicum of talent or success, and then there were the users who take no prisoners on their rise to the top. Them, I wouldn’t miss.
My face hurt from pasting a smile on my face day after day, when inside, I felt like crying. Performing would be pure perfection if it wasn’t for the incredible, aching loneliness that accompanied every moment I wasn’t on stage. Artistic types are usually close-nit or total loners, but I longed for a happy balance.
I had a few weeks off before the next audition and it was welcome. I was beyond tired. I’d bounced around with the touring company for the past three years and while exhilarating and a wonderful way to see the country, I was ready for it to end. I loved singing and performing on the stage; the applause was like a drug, feeding the obsession; but I needed a break.
I sighed heavily and fell back on the smooth, shiny black surface of the empty stage. One or two of the backstage lights casted gloomy shadows in the auditorium. I stared at the shadowy grids above me; a uniform jungle of black metal that held the track lighting fixtures. All of it would be dismantled and loaded up for the last time tomorrow. The scent of paint and newly tooled lumber hung in the air. The scent had become so familiar. No matter what city, what venue, the scent was the same.
I raked both hands over my face and drew my knees up until my feet were flat on the floor. My whole life had become like the show; repetitive, practiced precision… a flawless role I played. I laughed harshly at the irony of it. I even had my own personal phantom, like the character I’d been playing; made even more daunting by his facelessness.
Thank God for wireless internet, Twitter, and my Kindle. As far as I was concerned, these were the three most important modern marvels ever created. Screw Facebook (sorry Mark Suckerbutt, or whatever-the-hell your name is), the suspension bridge and indoor plumbing. Well, maybe not indoor plumbing, but it could hardly be called modern, considering the first aqua duct was invented between 600 or 300 B.C. in Persia or Syria or somewhere equally obscure. The Romans finally ran with it, but it took those poor bastards 500 years to build. I cringed again. He was the reason I knew about that shit. I groaned inwardly; resentful that he invaded any part of my existence when he refused to be real.
We met online while I was traveling on the bus between San Francisco and Los Angeles. He was writing a play set in Medieval Europe during the Crusades and since I was an actress, our mutual artistic backgrounds made it easy to start up a friendship. At first I blanched
at his script; the subject matter of the work seemed depressing and stiff to someone as expressive as myself. He was elusive but curious. He wanted to know about me, but his own responses were vague, still, we became friends. When someone tried to pirate his scripts, I helped him figure out who and how to stop them. Remember what I said about the wireless internet? It was the thing that allowed me to stay connected my friend, to take those thieving bastards down, and not go batshit crazy on the road.
What I was able to figure out, he was smart, maybe a genius; well-read, and probably had tenure at some ivy league, rich-bitch university. Playwriting was a secret no one in his real life new about. That part I didn’t really understand. Why would you keep a talent like that secret?
Obviously, the dude had to be a nerd, but whatever; I was bored, so it didn’t matter. Plus, I liked our conversations. We had a lot in common, and I sensed, would discover more if he’d only be more open. I needed someone to talk to who actually had something to say of substance. The well-intentioned, yet shallow people that surrounded me on a daily basis made my head hurt. In that one way; he was real. Substance.
As time wore on, my perception changed. It turned out he wasn’t boring in the slightest, but who knew about the rest? It didn’t really matter to me in the beginning. His mind intrigued mine, and soon I came to rely on his presence in my inbox and the encouragement that we offered each other despite the fact that I didn’t even know his name beyond his online ‘persona’. He was equally vague on chat and twitter. Sometimes we talked for hours about nothing at all, but there were those few moments when his walls started to crumble ever so slightly and part of him would creep into our conversations. I felt he wanted to tell me more, yet something held him back. I knew it, but on those rare occasions when he unconsciously opened, the door slammed shut the second he realized it was happening. It left me bereft and frustrated every time.
Moments In Time: A Collection of Short Fiction Page 41