EDGES

by C. G. Carroll

  “Will you forgive me?” she asked, in a cold whisper. “At least forgive me.”

  Josh didn’t say anything, but he interlocked his hand with hers and began to shudder. She encouraged him to take off his clothes and he did, all except for his boxers. Simone stripped out of her clothes too and resumed her position cradling him in her arms. They lay there, no petting, no sexual advances, just the two of them holding each other. Their bodies were warm, pressed together on top of the blankets. She fell asleep before he did. Once she was snoring softly, he let the tears stream out of his eyes.

  He didn’t want the moment to end. He sunk into the deepest sadness he’d ever experienced, knowing that this broken compromise was still better than anything else he had in his life. I just wanted you to love me, he thought. It was in this very spot, in her bed, that Josh had discovered the first real happiness of his life. Now it was some awful purgatory. He knew that’s all it would ever be.

  Simone

  SIMONE AWOKE BEFORE JOSH DID to the room filled up with early daylight. She had tossed and turned in the night and now there was an agony in her lower back, a feeling like she’d been lying on knives all night. She turned onto her side and felt a warm wetness between her legs when her thighs pressed together.

  A quick check with her hand made her gasp. She sat up and saw bright red blood coating her fingertips.

  Suddenly, there was a debilitating cramp that keeled her forward. Her jaw tightened and her teeth ground together. Simone kicked both legs out of the bed and looked down to see the comforter was stained and caked with red, and when she furiously began to peel it back in hopes of getting rid of it, she could see a second puddle that Josh too was now partially sleeping in.

  What was happening? What was wrong with her?

  As she stood in shock, with fresh blood slowly tracing down her inner thigh, another cramp hit her like a baseball bat to the hips. Her knees bent and she grunted. A wave of anguishing cramps seized her whole body.

  She managed to stagger to the doorway before collapsing onto all fours. From that position she scooted into the bathroom, where she could pant and let out small yelps without fear of waking Josh.

  She climbed the toilet and experienced a momentary relief. Blood slowly dripped out and so she looked away, furiously skimming the toilet paper roll with her hand to unravel plies to wipe away the mess.

  The thought that she was dying shot into her mind, but then she realized exactly what was happening. Simone couldn’t look between her thighs, down at the bloody water.

  Hot tears were in her eyes, partly from pain, but mostly from the horror of it. A sweat formed on her temples. She gathered a ball of toilet paper and stretched awkwardly toward the bathtub. A slight dousing of water dampened the toilet paper so that she could begin wiping away everything. For the moment it seemed the pain and cramping had passed.

  She cleaned herself up after a few frantic minutes, and discarded all the wadded up paper in the trash. With a swipe of her hand, she unrolled another string of tissue and blew her nose with some of it, and wiped her eyes with the rest.

  The panic was still there, inside her, swirling and ripping around. She didn’t know what to do. How would she get Josh out of the bed without him seeing it?

  Then the bathroom door came ajar, slowly swinging inward. Josh stood there. Simone lowered her head, unable to look him in the face. He was still in his boxers. Without saying anything, he twisted while looking at her, showing her the red stains on his lower back and thigh.

  “What happened?” he asked, genuinely concerned, his nostrils flared and eyes bugging.

  She let out a sob and he instinctively walked over to put his arms around her. There was no hiding the truth now. No period left this much blood.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his mouth right up against the flesh of her ear. He ran his hand down the back of her dark, smooth hair.

  “I had… I was pregnant, and now… I think. I don’t know. I’m scared!”

  Josh held her while she shook and cried. He must’ve been trying to process it, as was she.

  “I’m so sorry,” Simone said. She was still seated on the porcelain and refused to get up off it. She wanted to say get in the shower so he could get her blood off of him, but he cut her off before she could.

  “You were pregnant?”

  She barely nodded, but it registered as a confirmation. “I wanted to tell you, but I was scared. I wasn’t going to keep it.” Her words trailed off into sobbing.

  His hands slid back a little bit and he had the look on his face of a million questions, questions that he didn’t want to ask and that Simone didn’t want to answer. “How? We used—”

  And he answered his own question with that. They’d only had unprotected sex the once, but he hadn’t gone inside her. He suddenly gave her a light shove away, not a violent push, but one like he was repulsed.

  “No,” Josh said. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I don’t know whose it was. I swear to God. Josh, please!”

  Disgust contorted his face, and then fury twisted it even further. He put his hands in the air, and was backing away from her, then began to mumble words in disarray before darting into her room for his clothes.

  “Josh!” she called out, completely helpless. “Don’t go! Help me, please!”

  He bolted out of her room with jeans strung on, and his shirt balled up in one hand. The carpeted floor creaked as he stomped past her without so much as glance back over his shoulder. At the top of the stairs, he drew back his right arm and threw his fist into the wall as hard as he could, bashing a grapefruit sized hole in the sheetrock. Then he was gone down the stairs.

  Simone lurched forward, sobbing and holding herself as her whole body rattled and clenched. The front door slammed.

  Patrick

  PATRICK SMILED TO HIMSELF AND buttoned up his shirt slowly and methodically before the bathroom mirror, leaving the top two buttons undone so he could breathe. He felt like a boy in high school preparing for his first formal date. There was a fresh rattle in his legs. His stomach was jumpy and wouldn’t calm until he got the first few antsy words out of his mouth when he saw her. A rosy flushing of his face shone in the mirror.

  In straight hard strokes, Patrick combed his hair downward and then purposefully shook it out with his fingertips until it was messy yet arranged so that his big, sparkling eyes could see out from beneath the veil.

  He went to his room and fished two condoms in crisp gold wrappers out of his bedside stand and tucked them away in his pocket. He didn’t know what to expect but wanted to be prepared.

  A text vibrated from the phone in his pocket. It was Mallory. Still coming right?

  About to leave, he replied.

  She shot back a smiley face followed by, I’m a little nervous.

  I’m not, he sent. Followed shortly thereafter by actually I am.

  There was a moment without a reply from her where he considered the conversation might be over and then the phone shook again with another text from her. But I’m excited too.

  He read it and read it again. There was a moment of clarity where a grin flashed across his face.

  Me too.

  He sent it, released a deep breath of happiness, and tucked the phone away in his pocket.

  As he got in his car and started driving away from the house, a feeling of great calm settled over him. Josh hadn’t come home last night. He felt alone and yet free.

  He drove with the windows down and put his hand out to feel the warm early summer air. A little work of the imagination sent the smell of Mallory’s hair into his nostrils. That pleasant vanilla smell. He pictured her shimmering red hair as it looked in the daylight and could almost feel her clear milky skin sliding against his cheek. His hands felt the curves of her vase shaped figure, which was more full and ladylike than the smaller, skinnier girls he’d so often been with in the past few years.

  The images brought on a ravenous anticipation as he turned.


  But the feeling broke when his phone vibrated again and he saw that Josh was calling.

  “Where are you?” Josh asked. Patrick could hear him breathing hard.

  “I’m in my car, driving. What’s up?”

  “I need to see you, where are you?”

  “I’m driving, dude.”

  Josh’s voice was cold and unfriendly. “Where?” he asked again.

  “I’m going to Mallory’s. Why?”

  And with that the line went dead.

  Patrick pulled the phone away from his ear and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, shaking his head at the nuisance of such a call. But within a minute he forgot all about Josh’s call and returned to his imaginings while heading east away from town.

  Mallory

  THE FIRST LEVEL OF THE house filled up with the aroma of rosemary as Mallory sprinkled it into a pan and let it swish around and stick to the fresh potatoes she had steamed. A smaller pot on the burner wafted the seductive smell of an earthy chipotle glaze that, when she tasted it, left a delightful tingle on her tongue. And at her knees in the oven, were a pair of roasting chicken breasts, half-submerged in a special poblano marinade that packed a little more heat than the glaze, just enough to complement it.

  Mallory had on a cute, colorful apron with pink polka dots and one pocket that sat over her right hip that had a brilliant yellow strip for a cuff. Beneath the apron she wore a sexy black dress. And the even sexier black heels she was wearing clacked on the wood floor as she moved around kitchen. She felt a little silly with heels on in her own home, but she left them on, and it added to the anticipation. She couldn’t wait to see what happened when he arrived. Would he be polite and chat and eat with her while talking things through? Or would he turn her around, yank up her dress, and take her right there in the kitchen?

  She closed her eyes and breathed the steam with wide nostrils, letting it fill her lungs with gourmet scents. The best ‘gourmet’ she could manage, anyway. It felt good to breathe without stress. To feel breaths that enlivened her and made her feel young. It was an addicting sensation. Feeling young again. Feeling free. Something she hadn’t valued nearly enough until she’d let it slip away and drown into what was now—she was certain—a failed engagement.

  Mallory had resolved to move out and leave Teddy. She would do it sometime during the week. But today was about enjoyment. Enjoying what would be a new beginning. She didn’t want to get too attached too soon again. And she knew Patrick wouldn’t want that either. She knew he could handle it, whatever it was.

  When the potatoes were finished up and the glaze was simmering and ready, Mallory took a quick bathroom break and then came back to check on the chicken which should’ve been about done.

  It was.

  She took it out and cut into it to make sure it was white all the way through. She would keep it warm in the oven until Patrick arrived.

  Just as she slid it back in, there was motion, a blur registered in her periphery of someone pulling into the driveway. She smiled, straightened out her apron, and went to the window. Her legs went numb as her eyes set on Teddy’s truck. He was already halfway to the front door, taking heavy stomps like he already knew.

  Mallory didn’t know whether to run upstairs to change, or to get her phone and warn Patrick. With a whip of each leg, she kicked her heels off and tucked them away in one of the cabinets with all the Tupperware.

  Teddy came in and immediately froze at the smell of the cooking chicken. Mallory turned away from him with her heart pounding and pretended like she was working on the potatoes still. His eyebrows drew low and dark over his eyes, and when she did her best impersonation of turning to him, acting cheerfully surprised that he was home, his mouth was turned down in hatred.

  He slammed his keys down on the counter, making her jump, and then his eyes moved up and down her in a predatory way, taking in the apron, the skimpy dress, and her makeup that made her look beautiful. She noticed both of his hands were clenched into fists down at his sides, like blood would run from his palms if he squeezed them any tighter.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, reasoning now that somehow he already knew the truth.

  “I live here. This is my house.” His eyes darted to the stove for only an instant before jumping back to her. “Who’s this for?”

  “It’s for us. For tonight, baby.” She wrung her hands now in nervous anticipation.

  His eyes traced over her outfit once more. “And who’s this for?”

  “I wanted to look good for you when you got off work. Is that a crime?”

  He checked his watch, moving very slowly and pronounced. “I don’t get off for five hours,” he said. One of his muscular, hairy arms reached behind his back and Mallory’s eyes were drawn to the motion. Teddy pulled out some computer paper that was folded into thirds. He stepped forward with it between his fingers and then, before her, unfolded it, looked at it, and then threw it into her face.

  She staggered back in shock.

  “Read it, bitch.”

  “I don’t want to read it.” She felt her own body flush with anger, and she had the urge to strike him.

  “It’s phone records. You’ve been talking to that son of a bitch.” He reached out and pinched the fabric of her apron with his fingers and then dropped it. “I wonder what else you’ve been doing.”

  She looked at the three creased sheets of paper at her feet. She could now see lines and lines of printed text and numbers. Her gaze lifted back to him. “You need to go. Now. You’re scaring me.”

  Teddy crept closer until they were nose to nose. His hot breath panting on her face overtook the smell of the cooking. She got a chance to look deeply at him. There was so much pain in his eyes, a pain that had turned to fear, and then rage. She knew she had to get out of the house. Where was her phone? It was on the top of the couch cushion, in the living room, about ten yards away.

  Suddenly she made her move, darting for the couch, but he wrenched her arm and with all his weight hurled her back. She slipped on the floor. Her skirt flew up. Her legs splayed. She skidded back into the hot glass of the oven and Mallory screamed as the glass seared the center of her back.

  Teddy charged at her.

  Instinctively she lifted her arm overhead and felt around for the pot still on the burner. Her fingers brushed the handle and then grabbed it. She launched her arm forward, flinging the boiling glaze onto him. His scream made the windows rattle in their frames. The glaze had roped onto his arms and splattered half of his face. He was furiously wiping it away, clenching his eyes, shaking with pain.

  It was her chance. She scrambled to her feet and made for the door, deciding there was no time to get the phone. Her first instinct was to make for the road, down the slope of the drive, but that would also be Teddy’s first instinct. Mallory ran maybe fifteen yards toward the road, threw down her apron onto the dirt, then backtracked and took off up the slope in the opposite direction.

  The dry pine needles poked into her soles over and over again until her feet numbed. Quickly up and up the hillside she sprinted into the woods, crunching along at a swift rate until she found the stream. A burst of confidence came upon her. Even if the apron didn’t trick Teddy, she knew this land better than him. He was probably down on the road, pacing around like a psychopath. Hopefully, a neighbor would see him covered in chipotle glaze and call the cops. But she couldn’t count on that.

  Mallory kept going. She was sweaty, sucking breaths, but she didn’t seem to be getting tired. Her legs had plenty of juice. In a few minutes she came to the secluded pool and waterfall that Teddy named after her. She stared into the pool, judging how deep it was. The pool might be a way to keep distance between them while she talked him down, like having a huge table between the two of them. Next to the mouth of the small waterfall were some bushes she could hide behind. That’s where she decided to crouch down and wait.

  The sun moved from behind a tree and shone directly onto the water, and the tiny ripples fr
om the falls carried an unending well of glittering fragments of sharp white light around the pool in random and varied currents. The sun was also beating down on her, in only her skimpy dress now and the scant lingerie beneath.

  Sweat rolled thick down her brow and under her arms and down her back. The longer she waited, the more time her mind had to imagine what might happen if she couldn’t talk him out of his anger. Or if Patrick showed up. She grew more and more scared. She considered running even further up the mountain, but from there she had absolutely no idea where she’d be going.

  Mallory waited. The silence was unnerving. Even the slightest noise from the surrounding trees drew her attention. But eventually there was a noise that wasn’t a hallucination; it was clear and growing louder as it closed in. Heavy footsteps, the familiar crunching of needles. She set her eyes on Teddy before he could spot her. But within a few moments his gaze caught the bright red shine of her hair peeking out from behind the foliage.

  “Stay away from me!” she called, straightening up from behind the bush.

  “I just want to talk.” Even from the thirty feet or so that separated them, she could see that he was still shaking. The glaze was still splattered on his face like a very dark honey that couldn’t be easily wiped clean. He’d managed to scrape it off his eyes, but his cheeks and lips were red and swollen.

  Teddy began to circle the pool toward her. A fresh shot of adrenaline hit her blood and she went scrambling to her left. Teddy flew up the incline toward the bushes and was only a few feet behind her in a matter of seconds. She screamed as loud as she could, her throat and her lungs scraping, hoping someone would hear her. She looped around the pool, her right foot slipping in the needles every few steps. Teddy had far better traction with his boots.

  He dived at her legs and caught her left ankle. Mallory flew forward and skidded a few feet, ripping up her knees and burning her stomach. She screamed again, rousing herself up to her feet just as he was doing the same.

  “Stop, Teddy!”