Chapter 14: Jay

He wasn’t an idiot. When the color drained from Addy’s face, he knew the conversation had taken a turn for the worse. Addy had her hands in her lap, staring down at them, her lips pursed tightly, and her face still haunted with white as tears slid down her cheeks.
There it was, her kryptonite. Doucheboy Ryan.
“I’m sorry,” Jay said. He felt like such an asshole now, even more so than before. If there were an award, it would go to him, hands down.
“It’s—fine,” Addy said, but he knew it wasn’t fine.
He watched her take a shaky breath, her chest trembling as she fought to steady her emotions. He considered leaning over and hugging her, but he feared how she would react. They weren’t there yet. Not even close. He preferred to keep his teeth intact for as long as he could.
“Addy—” Jay rubbed his face, wondering if there was anything he could do to make this conversation better, but it was doubtful. He had slaughtered any chance of continuing a pleasant conversation. And it was not only dead, but it was cold, dead, and buried. “You know, he doesn’t sound like a very nice person,” he said finally. No fucking kidding. Despite knowing that he was nothing to gloat about, especially lately, he could think of nothing else to say to her. “Maybe this is exactly what you needed to hear.”
“Yeah,” Addy said. “Maybe.” She looked up at him, and he saw her cheeks stained with tears. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”
He watched her walk from the car to the restroom, her shoulders hunched as she stared at the ground. He didn’t know what to do now, so he did nothing, only watched her go and wished he could take it all back.

It was like a nightmare. One of those dreams where you’re running from something—a monster, maybe—but you can’t quite get far enough away. In the dream, you keep tripping. You keep stumbling. It doesn’t matter how often you clamber to your feet and run again—you can never escape the monster chasing you.
Never.
Sometimes, not even when you wake up.
Tears streaming down her face, Addy splashed water on her blotchy skin. On the other side of the bathroom door, she could hear Jay start the car. It was early, barely sunrise, but she knew it was time to go. What were the odds, she thought, that the one person who had turned her life upside down knew the biggest secret in her fiancé’s life, especially when her best friend had no idea?
Life was fucking funny that way.
Lack of sleep was taking a toll on Addy’s natural complexion. Now, black circles like shadows masked her eyes. She was still pale, a color rare on her. It was unappealing, making her look sickly and frail.
The glass in the mirror of the run-down bathroom was chipped, a rough, scar-like shape rippled through the glass. Without thinking twice about it, Addy reached for the crack, her fingers working quickly and flawlessly as she tugged at the unstable edge, content when, after a moment, a palm-sized sliver of the glass broke loose. She opened her palm and stared at the jagged edge, feeling her breath quicken with desire. What did she think she was planning to do? Kill herself? To bleed out in front of Jay all over the gross rest-stop bathroom floor? Yeah, that would show him. And by him she meant Ryan.
No. She wouldn’t kill herself. She just needed fresh air. She needed the pain to fade if even for a moment, if even for an instant. Her realization of her fear toward Ryan was suddenly raw now, as though for the last few years a metaphorical scab had covered it up, protecting her from the harsh reality of her relationship with him. Ryan wasn’t Mr. Perfect. Not even close—but, he had been her crutch, even if he didn’t know it. Having someone—even him—had been exactly what Addy had needed to pull herself out of the black hole she wallowed in for so long. He had grounded her so she wouldn’t lose it. He was all she had left. She had no parents, no siblings—besides her best friend Lisa, there was just Ryan. He was her husband-to-be. And now that security blanket she had always relied on was nothing. It had always been nothing, really, but Addy hadn’t been able to face that until now, as if someone who wasn’t herself finally put it into perspective for her, and she knew that she wasn’t crazy after all.
Still, she hated herself for being surprised, because it wasn’t surprising, not when she looked deeper into it. Wanting to break up with him back home, to call the wedding off, had been a step she should have taken long ago. But she hadn’t, because she couldn’t, and now here they were.
Addy realized, at that moment, that she didn’t fucking care. She didn’t care if she bled out. She didn’t care if Jay left, she didn’t care if he stayed. She didn’t even really care much if she never saw her ever-loving fiancé Ryan again. And in that horrible moment of despair, she realized something else; she didn’t even care if she died.
Her beating heart quickened its pace as Addy leaned over and jammed the deadbolt into place over on the bathroom door. She could still hear the purr of the car’s engine in the parking lot, and she knew Jay was out there, waiting for her. She lifted the broken glass to her arm and pushed down, gently at first, and then with more force. She winced as the sharp edge sliced into her skin, and blood pooled to the surface. Addy thought of Ryan, saw his face, remembered the anger and coldness he’d shown her in that time they’d been together.
She pushed harder.
She thought of Melanie; of blond, big-boobed Melanie. She remembered the way she had rubbed herself up on Ryan, her teeth flashing a flirty smile, her body pressed against his.
She pressed harder.
She remembered the last time Ryan had hit her, shoved her, left marks on her skin.
She pressed even harder.

Jay felt bad about talking out of his ass, but how was he supposed to know that would happen? He barely knew Ryan, and he hadn’t known Addy, but it had been clear to him from the beginning that the man was nothing more than a no-good piece of shit who hurt her. What a douchebag. Sure, every guy was an asshole sometimes, and every girl was a bitch—but even then, even when everything sucked, and the relationship sucked, and the whole thing was falling apart—well, even then there was no excuse to hit a woman.
And to think that Ryan had asked Addy to be his wife! Jay couldn’t understand why—or how—somebody could do that. Why would one spend money on an engagement ring, promise to unconditionally love another person, only to turn around and hurt his fiancé with every chance he got?
Jay glanced toward the bathroom, wondering what was taking her so long. He woke the yellow dog still snoring on his lap and set him in the backseat. The pooch seemed content, as he sprawled out in the back and closed his eyes at once, letting out a happy sigh as he did so. Such a hard life.
“I’ll be back,” Jay said. “Don’t go anywhere.” He pushed open the car door and stretched, filling his lungs with the sharp, bitter autumn air. He could hear the freeway close to where he stood; could hear the cars already on the road, careful not to waste any second of their precious travel time. They needed to leave. He couldn’t stay in one spot for too long, and Addy knew it. They both knew it.
Jay crossed the dew-frosted lawn toward the bathroom, thankful that they were still the only people around. He liked that; he loved the privacy and the silence and the quiet of it all. It was soothing.
“Hey,” he called, rapping on the bathroom door. “It’s time to go.”
He looked at the mountains to where the sun was rising, a gorgeous painting of pastel colors, purple and pink and orange. He stared, mesmerized, taken by the fact that, despite the horror of his life, there was still beauty in this world—even if it was rare. Ashley had always been so insistent that beauty was in everything. She had been a poet—a dreamer. She’d been so different from him; so different from Jay, the brooding teenager. Jay, the party-animal, the punk kid who ran from cops, broke into people’s cars and stole shit from the convenience store down the road. She had been good. She had been the good one.
Irritated that he was letting his thoughts wander, Jay reached for the door handle and twisted, ready to pull Addy out of this fucking dump and into the car. He knew what she was doing; she was stalling. Of course she was upset—who wouldn’t be? But she could sulk about it in the car, where he would be there to comfort her.
Jay turned the handle and pushed, surprised when the door didn’t budge.
“Why did you lock this?” he shouted. “Open the door, Addy.”
He put his ear to the frame, holding his breath, trying to hear her. There was only silence.
Pressing his shoulder against the door, Jay twisted and pushed, wondering how sturdy the shitty locks on this stupid ghetto building were. He’d thought they were past this. He thought they had become, well, friends. Okay, not friends. But not enemies either.
Or so he’d thought. The anger was rising in his chest, ready to explode. Why did she constantly have to cause trouble for h—?
The lock snapped from the wall and the door flew open. Jay stumbled in, catching himself on the handle before he hit the floor. He straightened up, looking down at his feet, and his breath caught in his throat.