What Unbreakable Looks Like

by Kate McLaughlin

  One of Zack’s hands curves around the back of my thigh. “Lex,” he murmurs. His fingers tighten. I decide to let go.

  Oh, God.

  “Kiss me,” I beg. His other hand slides up to my neck, brings my head down to his. Our mouths meet, lips parted, swallowing up the sounds we make as we fall over the threshold.

  Afterward, we lie on our sides, facing each other. He brushes away the tears that leak from my eyes with his thumb.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, sniffling. I feel like such a virgin.

  “Don’t,” he says. “You don’t need to be sorry. Are you okay?”

  “Yes … I didn’t know … Is it always like that?”

  He makes a sound that’s kind of like a laugh, but not. “No. It’s never … I haven’t … No, it’s not always like that. Maybe that’s the way it is when you’re with the right person.”

  My eyes leak some more. “How do you always know the right things to say?”

  “I say what I feel.” He pushes my hair back, trailing his fingers along my temple. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Better than okay.” I smile slightly. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not going to say you’re welcome because that just feels weird.”

  I laugh. Kiss him. We cuddle in silence, and for a few seconds I’m perfectly at peace. And then …

  “Zack,” I whisper, throat tight. “Being my boyfriend is not going to be easy. There might be times when we do this and I freak out, or times when I don’t react the way I should to things. I’m not like other girls.”

  “I don’t want any other girls,” he tells me with a little smile. “Just you.”

  God, I hope there are more guys in the world like him. We need them.

  “You know what I want?” I ask. “Pizza.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  I kiss him. “I want to have after-sex pizza with my boyfriend,” I tell him. If we lie there any longer, I’m going to say something stupid, or cry more. I’m feeling really vulnerable. I need to do something normal. I’m not ready to dissolve in front of him.

  He rolls over and grabs his phone from his jeans. “Hawaiian?” he asks.

  I quickly swipe the backs of my hands over my eyes. “Perfect,” I say. I’m not talking about pizza.

  chapter twenty-six

  The hospital was quiet. It was late, but I was wide awake. I wondered if the other girls were awake too. Probably. None of us were used to going to sleep before dawn.

  I could watch TV, but I didn’t want the nurses to know I was awake. They’d only tell me to turn it off, anyway. Turned out other patients didn’t like being woken up at four in the morning.

  If I’d had some decent drugs, I could probably have fallen asleep, but that was not going to happen. Not the way I wanted at any rate.

  The door to my room opened. I flinched against the bright light.

  “Lex?” a voice whispered.

  Only one person who called me that would be awake at this hour. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Couldn’t sleep. This place creeps me out.”

  “Yeah.” I was not used to having a room to myself. It felt … unsafe.

  “Move over,” she commanded. The bed was a lot smaller than we were used to, but both of us fit. She slipped under the sheets with me and lay on her side facing me. “Did they call your mother?”

  I made a face. “She won’t come for me.”

  “She might, if Mitch asks her to.”

  “The cops know she’s friends with him. They wouldn’t let me go with her even if she did show. My aunt wants to take me.”

  “My parents were here. Mom cried the entire time. Dad looked like he didn’t know what to do with either of us. I wish they hadn’t come.”

  This was a surprise coming from her. All I’d heard since the night we met was how much she missed her family. “You’ll feel differently once you go home.”

  “Will I? Or will I have to watch Dad drive himself nuts thinking of all the things other men might have done to me?”

  I didn’t really have a father, so I couldn’t relate. “It will be okay,” I told her.

  She made a scoffing noise. “You’re so full of shit.” She scratched her shoulder. “I could really use a little calm right now.”

  That was her code word for pills, or alcohol—anything that could make her numb. “Mm,” I agreed.

  “Are you going to go with your aunt?”

  I shrugged. “Where else am I going to go?”

  “Wherever we want. Daisy got out.”

  I frowned. “How? Where’d she go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do. Did she go back to Mitch?” Why would he take her and not the rest of us?

  “Of course she went back. He came and picked her up.”

  I closed my eyes. “Bitch is probably dead.”

  She stared at me. “Not Daisy. She’s a cockroach.”

  “Let’s run away,” I said, grabbing her hand. “We can go anywhere.” At that moment I meant it.

  She sighed. “I can’t. They’re treating me for I don’t know how many STIs and another UTI. I’m not letting this one get that bad. At least now I don’t have to worry about the meds messing with my birth control.”

  She sounded like that was something to be happy about. I guess it was.

  I loosened my grip on her hand, but she didn’t pull away. She rolled onto her other side, putting her back to me. She pulled my arm over her and hugged it to her stomach.

  “Promise you won’t ever forget me,” she said, her voice not much more than a whisper.

  “Like I could if I wanted,” I joked. Having her with me was almost like pills. I started to feel my muscles relax.

  “Seriously. Promise me we’ll always be friends.”

  “I promise.” The tightness in my throat was proof of how much I meant it.

  “Promise me we’ll always have each other’s backs.”

  “I promise.”

  “Promise you won’t leave without me.”

  I was really sleepy now. My eyes wouldn’t stay open. I yawned.

  “Lex, do you promise you won’t leave without me?”

  “I promise.”

  * * *

  Thanksgiving. This time last year I was in a motel room eating takeout with Daisy and some of the girls. We didn’t have anything to be thankful for, not even being alive.

  This year I’m in a house that feels like home, and I’ve got Krys and Jamal with me. They’ve invited Zack and his mother over because a freak snowstorm prevented them from driving down to Maryland to be with Dr. Bradley’s sister. They bring pumpkin pie and green bean casserole.

  Isis goes nuts when Zack walks into the house. She runs at him full tilt, sliding into his legs and knocking him backward as she makes noises that sound like someone’s trying to kill her. He picks her up—despite the fact that she’s getting too big—and cuddles her while she licks his face.

  “Oh my God,” Krys says. “That dog is crazy.” She takes the casserole and pie and puts them on the counter and offers Dr. Bradley a glass of wine.

  Zack turns down a glass, and I do too out of solidarity. Not like I need to drink, and I don’t really feel the need to be numb at this moment.

  Jamal makes us both hot chocolate instead.

  “Did you talk to the documentary people?” Dr. Bradley asks.

  Jamal nods. “They seem legitimately dedicated to bringing down Stall 313.”

  “They are,” she agrees. “I’ve known Marissa’s husband for several years. He does a lot of her editing. They’re good people. Are you going to work with them?”

  “That’s up to Lex,” Krys says, casting a glance in my direction as she sips her wine. “We’ve told her we’re fine with it, but it’s her decision.”

  Zack’s mother looks at me expectantly. “I think so,” I say. “I’m a little nervous about it, but the prosecutors in New York told me they have other clients who have already agreed
to take part. They won’t use my name either.”

  She gives my hand a squeeze. “I think it will be a rather empowering experience.”

  “That’s what I said,” Krys tells her. “She’s going to let them know after the holiday.”

  I get the hot chocolate from Jamal and bring a mug over to Zack. “I think you should do it,” he says in a soft voice. The others have already moved on to another topic.

  “The documentary?” I ask.

  “You said speaking at the college made you feel better. Maybe this will too.”

  I think it will. It will also put me on a path I can’t run away from—which is why I’m undecided. Still, I like the idea of being part of something.

  I think of Daisy and Jaime and last Thanksgiving. Daisy sitting on her bed eating chicken wings and watching reruns. Me and Jaime on my bed sharing food in cardboard containers, laughing and talking.

  “I’m thankful for you,” she told me.

  I swallowed the wonton in my mouth. “I’m thankful for you too.”

  Daisy snorted. “Get a room.”

  They’re both gone now. And I’m still here. The idea of being part of something that might save other girls is so tempting. I’m just afraid of fucking up.

  But I was also afraid of sex and love and trust, and so far that’s turned out okay. I had a dream the other night—not about the motel, but about Zack breaking up with me. He said I wasn’t worth the trouble. He wanted a girl that wasn’t damaged.

  I woke up with a hollow feeling in my chest that’s still there, though faded. It’s not that I think he’s going to leave. It’s that I’m afraid I won’t be enough for him.

  I sit beside him on the couch with my own hot chocolate. “I might do it,” I tell him. “Maybe.”

  He puts his arm around me and I lean into him. His mother smiles at us, and so does Krys. Jamal is too busy making gravy.

  A few minutes later, my uncle declares dinner ready.

  It’s delicious. I eat way too much. Right before dessert, Jamal says, “In my family, it’s tradition to go around the table and say what we’re most thankful for. I am thankful to be sharing this day with all of you. I’m thankful for my beautiful wife, and I’m thankful for my soon-to-be daughter, Lex.”

  I blink back tears. Seriously, since I came to this house, I’ve cried more than I did in the seventeen years before.

  Dr. Bradley says she’s thankful for all of us and that Zack met me. Krys says she’s thankful for all the good people in her life—raising her glass to the Bradleys—thankful that Jamal does most of the cooking, and she’s thankful that she found me again.

  “I’m thankful Mom decided it was finally time to leave,” Zack says when it’s his turn. He smiles at me. “And I’m thankful we came here.” It’s not a declaration of undying love, but I know what he means and it’s as good.

  Now, it’s my turn. “I’m thankful that Mitch can’t hurt anyone else. I’m also thankful for all of you, especially Aunt Krys, who saw me at my worst and wanted me anyway.”

  Krys’s eyes are watery, but she doesn’t cry. We all lift our glasses and toast, and then we dig into pie. Later, Zack falls asleep on my shoulder while Isis lies across our laps on the sofa. We’re watching a movie while Krys, Jamal, and Dr. Bradley have coffee and talk—probably about us.

  I think about Daisy’s family. Do they miss her? What about Jaime’s parents? Are they thinking about her right now? I miss her. I kind of miss Daisy too. Wherever they are, I hope it’s better than what they had here. If I take part in the documentary, I’m going to make sure people know about them—especially Jaime. Not the Jaime she became, but the one I loved.

  I pet my dog’s head and kiss my boyfriend’s cheek, and I lean back against the couch and watch the rest of the movie. I feel safe. I feel loved. I feel so full I could burst.

  It’s pretty much the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.

  TEN MONTHS LATER

  “Anything yet?” Elsa asks, handing me a cup of coffee.

  I shake my head. My butt is sore from sitting on hard wooden chairs. I shift to my hip. “The jury’s still deliberating.”

  We’re at the courthouse for Mitch’s verdict. It’s been a long four days. I’ve been here every day, sitting in the crowd, staring a hole into his head as all the terrible things he’s done are laid out in great detail. I’ve seen photos of lost girls—sold girls. Photos of Mitch with them, photos of what they looked like when the police finally tried to save them. Most of them ran back. Some are here in the room with me. A couple of them testified, like me, but the others didn’t. They watch him like they still love him.

  Like they want him to love them back. I can’t look at them very often because it makes my stomach hurt.

  They showed photos of Jaime—in life and in death. Daisy too. I cringed when I saw what he did to her. He saved up a lot of his rage for Daisy. I can only imagine what he would have done to me.

  “Why are they taking so long?” Elsa laments.

  “Yeah,” Zack chimes in. “Not any real debate here.”

  I take both of their hands as I sit between them. “They’ll be done soon.”

  Patience is something I’ve been working on—and channeling my energies into something positive. That something is helping other trafficked girls. I’ve been speaking in public more and more often, mostly for the documentary crew to capture. A year ago, I never would have thought myself capable of becoming a champion for others.

  I wouldn’t have thought I’d have kept a boyfriend for this long either. Zack is still there for me, a little taller and broader than he was when we first met. I swear he’s going to be a giant.

  We both go to Wesleyan now. I’m actually in some of his mother’s classes. I’m thinking of majoring in psychology, though I can’t see myself being like Dr. Lisa. I’d like to run an organization that helps rescue trafficked girls—and boys. Lonnie and I have talked about maybe running it together. We even have a slogan: Girls Don’t Have Price Tags. She hasn’t been hanging out with Amanda much anymore since Amanda got kicked out of school for selling drugs on campus. I swear that entire family is messed up in a way that makes even me shake my head.

  Krys bought me a tattoo for my eighteenth birthday. It was the one thing I wanted. It wraps and twists around my back, hip, and torso to cover the scars from the motel. It took three sessions to complete, but was totally worth it.

  It’s vines of ivy. And right below my heart, a poppy where one of the leaves should be. Every time we have sex, Zack kisses it. Elsa came with me when I went to get it. She asked if I was certain I wanted the poppy.

  “Poppy made me who I am,” I tell her. “Instead of trying to forget her, I’m going to own her.” In a lot of twelve-step programs, they talk about gratitude, and I’m finally able to feel that toward the girl I used to be. I can’t put her in a box and forget about her. I can’t leave her in that motel alone and afraid. I need her with me.

  I turn my head and see Frank sitting alone behind Mitch. My mother hasn’t been to the trial at all. Apparently she and Frank broke up. I haven’t heard from her. The best thing she ever did for me was give up her parental rights so Krys and Jamal could adopt me. I will always be grateful to her for that, but not much else.

  “They’re coming back in,” Elsa says. Within a few minutes, the judge is in front of us, and the jury returns to its box. I study their faces, hoping to figure out what they decided. Nothing.

  I watch Mitch as the verdict is read, clinging to Zack and Elsa’s hands. On the charge of trafficking: guilty. Kidnapping: guilty. Murder: guilty. I stop listening after that. I can’t hear past the roaring in my ears.

  Mitch looks old. Defeated. He’s been beaten so many times, his nose has an entirely new shape. I wish I could feel sympathy for him, but I’m not there yet. I’m in no hurry to be.

  He’s going to pay for what he did to me. For what he did to all the other girls.

  People applaud the verdict.

  Elsa hugs me
hard. Zack does too. “We have to go celebrate!” my friend decides. “Lemme call Maisie and see if she wants to join us.”

  “How do you feel?” Zack asks, grinning down at me.

  I smile. “Relieved. Happy. Glad it’s over.”

  His smile fades a little. “But?”

  “It doesn’t change anything, does it?”

  He strokes my back. “He can’t hurt anyone else.”

  That’s something. Actually, it’s everything.

  Elsa returns. “Maisie said she’ll meet us wherever. Where do you want to go?”

  I think about it. “Thai,” I say.

  “Great. I’ll text her.” She turns away again.

  “You sure you want to celebrate?” Zack asks.

  “Yeah. I’m sure.” I look over his shoulder. “But there’s something I need to do first.”

  He follows my gaze to Jaime’s family. They’re sitting two rows back and getting ready to file out with the rest of the crowd. Jaime’s mother, father, and one of her sisters. The sister not much younger than me. The one who looks so much like Jaime, it hurts to look at her.

  My fingers close around the bracelet in my pocket as I stand. I walk to them, say hello. Give them hugs. They’re still awkward with me, and I don’t blame them. Their daughter’s dead and I’m alive.

  I turn to Jaime’s sister and offer her the bracelet.

  “Your sister made this,” I tell her. “I want you to have it. It’s made of things that were important to her.” To both of us, but I leave that out.

  “Don’t you want it?” the girl asks, eyes wide.

  I shake my head. “I have other ways of remembering her. I think she’d like knowing you have it.”

  She nods, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Thank you.” She pulls me into a hug. I hug her back and try not to cry, because she hugs like Jaime too.

  Eventually I leave her and return to Zack and Elsa. “Let’s go,” I say.

  Zack puts his arm around my shoulders. I put mine around his waist, and we leave the courtroom together. As we walk out, I feel like I’m finally waking up from a bad dream. Things seem clearer.