“There’s not much to say.” I shrug and avert my eyes to the horizon. “I was born to a mother who had better things to do than parent. My dad was a drunk. They’re both still alive. I don’t know anyone who has died.”
“Loss isn’t defined by death.” His hand falls on my shoulder and I find myself gazing into his eyes. “You can lose anything in this world and it can affect you. If a young girl loses her favorite stuffed animal, it hurts. It doesn’t matter if it’s trivial in relation to the rest of the world’s woes. Pain or loss is never relative.”
“I lost sight of who I used to be,” I say somberly. The admittance almost feels treacherous to myself. I’m not supposed to open up, especially not to a man.
“And who was that?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I sink my teeth into my lip, holding back a floodgate of emotions. “She’s gone.”
“Sounds serious.”
“You do what you do because you’re trying to get the old you back.” I dig into him with an intense glare. “I do what I do because I want to make sure the girl I used to be never exists again.” My palm rolls into a fist—the very mention of her angers and saddens me. “She was weak and she was trampled on. I won’t go back to that life."
“Tell me what happened.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me close. “Please. It’ll help me not feel so alone.”
“I really miss the old times, when we were too busy throwing jabs at each other to engage in these deep conversations.” I laugh uncomfortably and drag my palm across my eyes, wiping away any trace of emotion that could be there.”
“You need to open up to someone, Apple. Otherwise your problems will swallow you whole.”
“Some people can’t be saved.”
“I think Jesus would disagree.”
“I think you haven’t opened a Bible in years.”
“You’d be correct, but it doesn’t change the fact that nobody is too far gone.” His lips curl into a comforting smile. “You don’t seem too bad.”
“Nothing is as it ever appears,” I warn him gravely, but he doesn’t look afraid. Not anymore.
“Show me who you really are.” He leans in close, and over my shoulder. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“I’m a bitch,” I whisper back.
“Sometimes.” He smiles wickedly.
“I use people.”
“It’s okay.” He wraps his arm around the small of my back and pulls me into a tight embrace. “I like being used.”
“See? Doesn’t this feel so much better?” I lean my head on his muscular chest, betraying the idea I had just set forth. “No emotions. Just fun banter…”
“I’m tired of being upset about the things I can’t change.” He inhales, followed by a rough exhale and kisses the top of my head. My eyes fall shut and the world around me goes dark, but I can hear everything.
The freedom of the waves crashing onto the shore.
Birds taking one last flight before night falls.
His beating heart.
We sat along the shores of the ocean until the moon had chased the sun into the next continent. We cuddled under the clear sky, and I counted the stars until I fell asleep in his loving arms. But not long after I had fallen asleep, I woke with a stirring spoon in my gut. I always knew I was doing what had to be done to guard my fragile and easily broken heart. I became somebody else under Brick’s guiding arm.
It’s a terrible conundrum I now face.
I have a bad reputation and I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want to break Jensen’s heart, because in the process I’ll be forced to break my own. Brick said I fall in love too easy, and I was too stubborn to admit he was right.
I’ll break Jensen’s heart because it’s who I am. It’s what I am, but for the first time since I set out on this journey of revenge against the opposite sex, I can feel my heart shattering like glass. Nobody escapes unscathed when two cars meet in a collision course. Screeching tires. Busting glass.
Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. I’ve always been prepared to dig my own. I never thought I’d have to dig another for somebody I care about. I never thought I would care again.
I can’t begin to describe it—this feeling inside of me. If it’s not love, it’s the precursor for it. Love is a disease—the worst kind of entropy. It’s always fragile, and never unbreakable. Falling in love is a dangerous game, an escalating spiral of chance formed over the course of parting glances and broken pasts.
Some might say it’s impossible, to love someone you hardly know. I think about who I used to be, back in the days when I was protected under the guiding wings of innocence, I was a dreamer. I look into Jensen’s eyes and I dream.
My mother used to say nobody could change you, only change how you see yourself. I oftentimes wished someone would have changed her, but maybe she was right about one thing. Underneath all the bullshit and pain, maybe that dreaming, innocent girl still exists.
I’d love to see her again, to meet her at a crossroads where she’d guide me to make the right decision. If I play it safe to avoid a broken heart in the future, and to defeat Brick, Jensen and I will still lose. If I turn my back on who I’ve become, and Jensen isn’t who he appears, I lose. I’m tired of losing, and the look on Brick’s face should I win… Priceless.
Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t. I think I read about this once, something in philosophy called the prisoners dilemma. Like so many other things you learn in a lecture hall, I thought to myself, when the fuck will I ever use this in real life?
22
I’m awoken for the second time in as many hours by the screams of sea gulls. I raise my hands to clear my eyes of debris with my knuckles and lodge a grain of sand against my pupil. That shit burns. I blink my eyes in rapid succession, trying to dislodge the miniscule grain.
When I look over at Jensen, I see peace and tranquility. He lies on his back with his arms folded across his chest. It’s not the ideal position to sleep in, and it’s certainly one I could never pull off. Hence waking up with my face planted in the sand.
Every part of his body is strong.
Every part of his soul is fragile.
It’s a dichotomy fit for tragedy.
A sea gull lands beside his foot and starts screeching. I’m not much of an animal lover, but still I hesitate blasting it in the mouth. I want nothing more than to sit here and watch Jensen while he sleeps, like he watched me yesterday evening.
I want him to continue dreaming, while I try to sort shit out in my head. I shoo away the sea gull, forcing him to take flight to the sky, screeching as his wings clip over the ocean. Jensen stirs, kicking his legs out and stretching them.
I press my palm to my eye, trying to ward off the pain of my scratched retina. This is when Jensen chooses to awake and asks me groggily, “Are you crying?”
“Maybe.”
He sits up and stretches his arms over his head. “What’s wrong, babe?”
“Fucking sand in my eye.”
“Oh…” He seems disappointed that I’m not having a breakdown of my own. It’d probably level the playing field in his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Hours past sunrise,” I say, referencing his own response when I asked him the time last night. I have slept, at least, twenty hours out of the last thirty. I should have enough energy to spend the next three days in damage control mode—I’m going to need at least that much time to dig myself out of this mess I’ve created.
“When you say, hours past sunrise, how many hours are you referring to?”
“It has to be noon, at least,” I say. “Shit!”
“Yeah, shit,” he agrees as he jumps to his feet, grabs his towel and charges toward the motel. Checkout was at eight, and I can’t help but feel a little responsible for the extra night that’s about to be tacked onto his bill.