Ginger Fox

“Why are you nervous?” I smile at Baby, watching her pace back and forth with her cell phone to her ear, muttering through her teeth. She takes off her sunglasses, stamping her foot on the pier.
“I’m trying to talk to Jon’s crazy grandmother.” Her teeth clench as she lowers her phone and starts dialing again. “Jon mentioned something about her. I stopped by the house she’s staying at this morning and it was closed.”
I bring the popsicle to my mouth, finishing it off, and nod in agreement to Baby. I watch Jon at the end of the pier with his hands in his hoodie pockets, watching the seagulls.
“She went on a trip. I thought you knew.” Baby’s eyes widen in confusion.
“When did this happen?”
“The day of Bob’s accident. Jon was in the room when I went up to clean myself up. The grandmother took him home early; it seems she had something to take care of, I don’t know.”
“But how did that old lady leave the island?” My finger points to the ferry.
“Unless she has the stamina to swim for more than two hours, I suspect she took the ferry.” Baby looks at me as if I’ve said something ridiculous and rolls her eyes dismissively.
“God, Ginger! I know you need the ferry to leave the island. I want to know how she left without Roy’s permission.” I get up, walk to the trash can, and throw the popsicle stick in it.
“And since when does she need his permission to leave? The woman is free; she must have had an emergency and needed to leave.” When I turn to Baby, she is serious, with her eyebrows arched, adjusting her glasses above her head.
“Try getting your ass marked by his palms off this island and you’ll find out.” I scratch my neck, scrunching my nose and looking lost at the ferry.
Baby can’t be serious about this. I know Roy has a lot of power and influence on the island, but not to the point of restricting people’s departures!
“I’ll call her sister. If I’m not mistaken, they live together.” Baby starts dialing on her cell phone and then raises it to her ear, waiting for the call to be answered.
“Maybe some fisherman could have given her a ride, I don’t know.” My fingers go to the back pocket of my jeans, pressing into the stiff fabric.
“She’s another bitch! She won’t answer me! Only God knows how much she hates me.” I sigh, pitying Baby’s distress as she tries to find the woman.
“Do you want me to try calling from mine?” I pull out my cell phone, pointing it at her. “Maybe if it’s not your number, she’ll pick up…”
“Crazy bunch of idiots! No wonder Katy spent most of her time drugged, to avoid dealing with her crazy family.” Baby gives up when the call goes to voicemail.
“Give me the number and let me try from mine.” I key in the number flashing on Baby’s cell phone screen, pressing to call.
“What was her family like, for her to become a drug user?” I listen to the call ringing, waiting for someone on the other end to answer.
“Katy had her demons too.” Baby looks in Jon’s direction, seeing him far off, following the conversation. “Her father used to beat her until she’d wet herself because he was an alcoholic. When she started becoming a young woman, he sold her virginity to a work friend to pay the household bills.”
“Holy shit!” I bring my fingers to my forehead, rubbing it in pain over the girl's fate. “God! How can a father do that to his daughter?! And how did her mother go along with it?”
“Believe me, there are worse mothers than Katy’s.” The fatal blonde keeps her face stern and lets her eyes wander lost at the ocean. Baby’s gray pupils are as dark as the sky above us. “Katy started prostituting herself after a while; then came the drinks and soon after, drugs, until she was completely lost. I think the only person who truly loved her was her cousin.”
I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine a more tragic end than poor Katy’s. So lost in her cruel fate that she sought solace in drugs until nothing mattered in her life.
“It’s just going to voicemail,” I whisper, lowering the phone and turning it off. “I’ll keep trying until she answers.”
“Damn it! I have so many things to do, and now I have to worry about this crazy woman too!”
“Do you need help with anything? Jon and I can keep ourselves busy with something.” I smile, looking toward Jon.
In these last few days, he has been more willing and cheerful, even though the critical state of Bob still hangs over the mansion. Jon is doing well, and that comforts me. He is calmer, with his guard down. When I asked him the other day what was making him happy, he gifted me with a smile, saying my presence made him happy. That small phrase made me give up the idea of going home before finishing the job. I still feel lost, confused, and completely attached to Jonathan. I often wonder what it will be like when I leave. What will be left of me? If there will be any trace of me at all.

Last night left me even more disoriented. If it’s just a game, why does he constantly occupy my mind? I feel something growing inside me with no limits on its size, and I lose track of time just imagining his face. I cling to all the doubts and fears, even knowing how I feel about him. Despite everything, I found myself holding his hand, trapping it between mine so he wouldn’t pull away. I had spent the entire day rehearsing the one word that could end the game, but it never left my lips, not when my body was surrounded by his scent, not when his eyes were so close, gazing at me intensely, making me wish I could drown in the sea reflected in his irises. Knowing that Jon was safe with Baby, I asked him to stay, begged him not to leave, instead of pushing him away. A mixture of surprise flashed in his blue eyes, as if it were the strangest request a woman had ever made of him. Jonathan walked to the connecting door without saying a word that could let me know whether he would leave or not, turning the key to lock the door. When he left the room, slamming the door behind him, I could only hold back the tears until I was tangled in the bed, clutching his blazer in the dark, crying softly. I was suffocating between my addiction and the need to have him around, becoming just a sad caricature of who I once was. It’s toxic, depressing, causing me more moments of anxiety than joy, but I still wanted him there. He’s a virus my antibodies can’t fight.
Jonathan had warned me. Every word of that song told me there was nothing inside, but I still wanted to be with him, just to soothe the need my body and soul craved. I was so lost in my sorrow that I only noticed his presence when the bed sank under the weight of his large body. Like a wounded kitten, my fingers clung to his chest, pulling me towards him. It was so melancholic that I had no more shame or pride, I didn’t care about letting him see the emotional collapse I was going through. His hands moved the blazer away from my body, pulling me closer until my face was pressed against his bare chest. I slid my legs between his, feeling the coldness of his pajama pants’ silk, wrapping my fingers around his shoulder and crying over the madness he had sentenced me to until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I wasn’t sure if he had stayed in bed all night, but I could still feel the imprint of his head and his scent on the pillow. Like a drug user pushing all the boundaries of addiction, I dragged myself to have him pressed against my chest, rubbing my nose on the pillowcase to soothe my wounded heart. I sighed, rubbing my face, inhaling the masculine scent that made me feel like I was in hell.
I exhale, turning my eyes to Baby, who is focused on her phone. “So, do you need help?”