Life Blood
by
S. Jean Brenner
Argus Enterprises International Inc
New Jersey***North Carolina
Life Blood © 2011 All rights reserved by
S. Jean Brenner.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any informational storage retrieval system without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
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ISBN: 978-0-6155751-24
ISBN: 0-6155751-2-9
Book Cover designed by Dubya
Printed in the United States of America
Prologue
He sat at his desk chewing on the stump of a cigarette. He didn’t crave the nicotine anymore, only the action. The phone on his desk broke the silence.
“Shit.” He muttered and picked up.
“Mr. Styles, it’s Detective Brown, we have a situation here.”
He sighed. Situation meant another murder. They were gruesome. The first was a young girl, no older than fifteen—stabbed to death; her case along with three others had gone cold. Nobody could figure out anything. This one—was worse. Styles drove his silver Mercedes to the crime scene. Yellow caution tape surrounded the rundown apartment buildings. On the dirty ground near the dumpster was the body of a boy his face was covered with a dirty piece of newspaper.
“Any I.D?”
“Daniel Doe,” Detective Brown answered, “I called the number found scribbled on a piece of paper in his pocket.”
“Who’d you get?”
“Friend of the family,” he answered. “His father had gone to a friend’s house to play some poker and had given Daniel the number to call. He told us his son was going to visit a friend to play some video games.”
“How old is the victim?’
“Fourteen.”
Styles shook his head, “same as the girl?”
Brown nodded, “Stabbed to death, jagged edges in the torn flesh, exactly the same as Mary Walberg.“I’m going to need the name of the person Daniel had seen that day.”
Brown nodded and handed him a slip of paper.
* * *
He kept his eyes on the boy as he spoke.
“I don’t know anything!” he demanded.
“I doubt that,” Styles answered, “You were the last person to see Daniel alive.”
“I didn’t do anything to him!”
“You from around here?”
“Yeah.”
“Got a nice place?”
“I guess. Look, this buddy-buddy crap isn’t going to work for me, ok? He left my house Saturday night around 6 pm; he lives a few blocks down so he walked. Danny was my friend, I would never hurt him!”
Styles nodded, “Thanks.”
Dr. Taylor Mandolin had just finished stitching up the body when Styles came in.
“What can you tell me?” he asked, trying to hide the sense of anguish he felt for the victim and his family.
“There are a couple of things I find puzzling,” he answered, “he was almost completely drained of blood.”
“What?”
He nodded, “There were two very thin shards of bone in the stab wound, it was defiantly the stabbing that killed him.”
“A bone knife?” he asked.
“It’s possible.”
“This is a sacrificial killing,” Styles said, “I’ve seen this before.”
Mandolin nodded, “That was my guess as well—the body is drained of blood.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” he answered, “Why would they dump his body in an alleyway?”
He shrugged, “that’s your job. There was very little blood on his shirt; nobody knows what happened to the rest of it.”
* * *
“Styles, it’s Detective Brown again I just got a call from the coroner and there is a huge problem.”
He moved the phone to his other ear. “What kind of problem?”
“Well, Mandolin wanted to run some more tests on Daniel Doe, and well—you’re not going to believe this.”
“Well?”
“He’s missing.”
“Missing?” Styles shouted, “What do you mean he’s missing?”
“I mean, he isn’t here, the freezer is empty.”
Styled sighed, “Oh this just keeps getting better.”
The crime scene photos were horrific. It was hard for Styles to believe that the pasty lifeless face had ever been the other boy in the photos, dark hair, and perfect blue eyes. Styles opened the file and peered at it re-reading, checking for anything he might have missed.
Daniel Doe, fourteen years old, high school student in Southern California, died of a stabbing in November. Body drained of blood and found in an alleyway by a construction crew. There were no fibers on his clothes, no DNA other than his own; there was no evidence of where he was killed or why he was drained of blood. No ideas why he would be moved to an alleyway. This guy was good. Family and friends were clean, nobody at his school knew anything and now his body was missing. Wonderful. Fourteen-year-old Daniel Doe was going cold.
I
The Bookstore
I had never actually thought about the whole reason behind my leaving. Now that I look back I feel selfish for abandoning my mother the way that I did. The liquor didn’t help anymore and the house was a constant reminder of what I had lost. It seemed the only alternative was to run away. I was so sure that it would change everything—that everything would get better if I just left. I didn’t know at that time exactly what was waiting for me just around that corner.
I got up slowly, dreading what I was about to do, not because I believed it to be the wrong decision but because I was leaving my mother—all by herself. I knew she could take care of herself but I didn’t want to see her upset.
I dressed myself in dark wash blue jeans and a casual feminine blue blouse. I never liked that shirt but my mother had bought it for me, and I had never worn it more than a couple times. I decided I should wear it one more time—for her. I was hoping it would make her happy in a small way.
“I’m sure, Mom,” I whispered, when we arrived at the airport “I just can’t stay here any longer.”
“I understand that it’s too much for you, but are you sure this is the right solution?” She was doing a terrible job of not crying, and it was so hard seeing her that way. She had such a gentle looking face. Even though her hair was beginning to grow a bit of gray she still had that shiny lustrous black hair that I thankfully inherited from her. Unfortunately I didn’t get her dark blue eyes. I got my chestnut eyes from my dad, which I still won’t complain about. I decided I had to say some comforting words to her, at least so I didn’t have to suffer through seeing her so upset.
“It’s the only solution I can think of,” I started “I won’t be all alone, Mom. I will be near a lot of my old summer friends. And I won’t be too far away either. I will see you soon.”
She nodded and dried her eyes with the back of her hand. I fidgeted with the collar of my blouse. She didn’t seem to notice it; she stared at my face and wouldn’t avert her gaze.
“Please don’t cry.” I pleaded. I was in no mood to cry but it was difficult when my beautiful mother broke down. I had only seen her cry twice before. The last time was the divorce. She was still pretty torn up about it. My father, Ethan, never showed how much it really affected him and that’s when he made her cry, when she felt like he truly didn’t care. It had been almost three years and she was finally able to get up and go to work and live her life without my dad and now—I was leaving her too? I had second thoughts racing through my head. Should I change my mind and just get back in the car and go home? No, I thought, I had to do this. I sighed, trying to think of something else to say to her.
“I’ll write you,” I said, “I’ll call. I won’t be on the other side of the world you know, I can come visit you sometime, I promise.”
I hugged her and forced a smile. I had to leave California, though I wasn’t too excited about where I was headed. It was nice and I would be near some old friends but I was used to California and the warm summer sun. I was headed to North Bend Oregon a lovely small town full of woodland and rain.
Again came the thoughts of changing my mind and just staying in California. I hadn’t even left yet and I already missed home. I was packed up with three suitcases and a duffel bag, not counting the things that were shipped to Ethan’s a few weeks ago including my car. It was a very uncomforting feeling, getting up in the morning to an almost completely empty bedroom, the bedroom that had been mine since before I can remember. And it wasn’t only home I would miss. I had a life here, though not many friends, I did have a job. My manager, Amber seemed very displeased by the move. I guess I was her best employee. I hated talking to people but somehow I was still able to sell those magazines, soaps and other things that were sold at half the price at liquor stores or the nearby supermarkets. I was truly hoping I could get a better job in North Bend.
After a few more hugs and a few more pleads for my mother to stop crying, I got on the plane and rested my eyes. It wasn’t a very long flight, but it was long enough to cut blood flow from my thighs and make me feel all tingly and numb. I stumbled off the plane and gathered my bags. When I stepped out into the fog it was already slightly drizzling. I spotted Ethan climbing out of his silver Honda, the same one I remembered. He walked to me as fast as he could and pulled me into a tight hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Jane.”
I smiled nervously, “Me too, Dad.”
“How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine,” I said, “A little sad to see me leave.”
“Come on,” he said, “It’s warmer in the car.”
He turned on the car heater and drove down the old familiar streets. We didn’t talk much but exchanged a few comments. When I got home, Ethan helped me carry my bags inside. I looked around at the old kitchen and the living room across the way. It made me feel like I was back somewhere from a past life. I hadn’t been out to visit Ethan or my grandparents in a few years and it seemed like forever. It was all the same, the old wooden cabinets and the round table with the three nicely cushioned chairs, the white tile with pink grout, even the pale pink drapes on the window above the kitchen sink. The beige carpet in the living room and staircase. It was exactly how I remembered it. Even the smells were the same. I already missed my mom and didn’t feel like concentrating on the old house. It was like my childhood came back to haunt me. Why did I think this house could help me forget the past? I needed to escape somewhere for a while before I tried to get settled in.
“I’m going to run down to the bookstore,” I called to Ethan.
He emerged into the kitchen, “Don’t you want to at least see your room first?”
“It’s okay,” I said, “I know what it looks like. I won’t be long.”
“All right, well I’m going to the store, to pick up some food for dinner. Maybe you can remind me how good of a cook you are.” He smiled.
I nodded though I had no intention of doing such a thing. I hated cooking. My car was in the driveway like it had been for a few days. This time I was driving it in the rain and really had no idea where I was going. I tried to map out in my head what I remembered about North Bend and eventually was able to find Albany’s bookstore. I ignored the spying eyes of the workers. Except for them the place was empty. I was alone which was a relief. I walked around to the fiction section and began flipping through books on strange happenings and unlikely romances.
I tucked my dark hair behind my ears and glanced at the dusty, green binding of a very thick, old-looking book. It was tightly wedged in the center of the shelf and I tugged at it, frustrated. The entire shelf shook and in an instant I saw it leaning toward me. I gasped, feeling the brush of flesh against my own and took in the sight of pale hands readjusting the shelf.
“You all right there?”
I looked up to see a pair of lucent green eyes staring into my own. I nodded, nervously.
“Fine,” I answered, “thanks.”
He nodded. “I couldn’t let the shelf topple over on you like that now, could I?” He smiled, his perfect teeth catching my eye.
His gaze made me nervous. I had never had anybody stare at me that way before; it was so solid and emotionless. I moved my stare to the dancing particles of golden dust in the air. He had quick hands and moved the books as if they weren’t lodged together. He was graceful. He handed me the book I had been tugging at.
“Sorry for being so impatient,” I started, “I’m feeling a little anxious today.”
He put his hand up, “No worries.” He answered still smiling.
I didn’t like people, I never spoke to people, but something about him aroused my curiosity. I cleared my throat.
“Well—umm—thanks again.” I said and turned away.
“The name’s Aidan!” He called.
I turned around and smiled.
“This is the part where you tell me yours.” He added.
I giggled silently, “Maybe later.”
He smiled and dropped his gaze for a moment, then looked back into my brown eyes, and nodded formally as if bowing then turned and left.
I stood up on my toes and placed the book on the top of the shelf, without worrying about dislodging the others. I found that I was no longer interested in it.
I shouldn’t have, I told myself, I shouldn’t have been so friendly. God—what if he would have asked me out? I shuddered and brushed my hair from my eyes.
I left the bookstore, still feeling nervous. I concentrated on the misty air and the small beams of sun pushing through the clouds. I stared at the ground watching the sidewalk lighten and darken when the clouds moved.
I felt eyes on my back so I picked up my pace but heard footsteps behind me.
“Hey,” he breathed, catching up to me.
Oh god. I halted and sighed, turning around “Can I help you?”
He was silent for a moment; he seemed to be searching for the right words. Had he waited for me?
“I—uh—I just wanted to know if I could get your name…?”
I hesitated before responding, remembering the effect he had on me in the bookstore. Don’t be too friendly. “Actually, I’d much rather not tell you.”
He stared at me passively, “Why not?”
I averted my gaze, captivated by his green eyes and responded, “I don’t like humans.”
I turned around again, pleased that I hadn’t given in to his charm. I replayed my words and laughed silently. That should keep him confused for a while.
I quickened my pace to the parking lot and fumbled with my keys. I opened the door to my red Aveo and quickly started the engine. I turned up the air conditioner full blast—I felt hot, possibly because the blood had rushed to my cheeks. I took a glance back at Aidan who was still staring at me, almost gawking. I sighed and went straight home.
I opened the cupboard automatically without actually thinking about eating anything. I found nothing appetizing. I had to keep my mind busy with something other than home. Walking into the kitchen, I tried to remember why I had declined from my mother’s offer to live with her in California. My mind found the path and I pushed back the memories and choked back tears. The roaring sound of an engine scattered my thoughts.
“Ethan.” I thought with a sigh, “I am not making dinner tonight.”
“Jane?” he called, walking inside.
I emerged from the kitchen into the entry.
“Oh good,” he said, “You’re home. Already raiding the fridge?”
“No,” I lied.
I figured as long as he didn’t know I was hungry he wouldn’t ask me to cook. Well if you’re that hungry why don’t you cook us some dinner? He would say.
“Well—you look hungry.”
“No,” I answered dryly, averting my gaze from his dark eyes, “I—uh—picked something up on the way home from the bookstore.”
“Mmhmm,” he murmured, “Okay. Perhaps I’ll just throw together some twenty minute pasta.”
“Sure, Dad. I—uh—have unpacking to do.”
“I ran into Mark Thompson,” he said quickly before I disappeared up the stairs, “Do you remember him?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“He says ‘hi’ and maybe Rudy will be down later to visit you.”
I nodded, “Okay.” I answered, trying to sound interested.
I raced up to my bedroom before he could respond and locked the door. The room was empty except for the bed still with Ethan’s blue cotton sheets. The walls were a light blue that matched the bed sheets. The rest of the room was an empty closet, an empty wooden dresser next to the door and dozens of boxes shoved in the corner. Along with a few trash bags filled with some of my dad’s old stuff that he hadn’t cleared out yet. I turned on the stereo Ethan had set on the dresser and drifted away into my mind. I began to feel an unnatural lethargic energy, forcing me to doze off.
“JANE!”
My eyes darted open and I sighed, opening my door.
“Dinner.” Ethan said.
I sighed again and walked down the stairs, seemingly half asleep.
“You all right?” he mused.
“Fine,” I answered, “just suddenly feeling hungry.”
“Hmm, you don’t say.” He chuckled giving me a crooked smile and a playfully accusing look. He tried too hard.
I stared down at my plate, twirling the noodles over and over.
“I’m really glad you’re here.” Ethan announced.
My eyes locked into his. He was smiling so I faked a smile back, having no idea how to respond. I was usually so good at this, but with Ethan, with my own father I didn’t know how to pretend at all. The rest of dinner was silent which wasn’t unusual.
I missed my home in California a lot more than I expected to and was beginning to wonder if I could ever get used to North Bend. California was the place I had considered my home for over seventeen years. Suddenly, I was trapped in my father’s world, a strange unfamiliar place, with strange, unfamiliar faces. North Bend was beautiful, I won’t deny. Just a small coastal city literally on the north bend of Coos Bay with gorgeous sunsets and beautiful beaches but it wasn’t enough to make me feel content. Ethan didn’t know how to react to any of the things that involved me in even the slightest way. Clueless was an understatement. I guess I couldn’t blame him; I wasn’t exactly what you would call “normal.”
The next day my dad had me help him move some boxes to the attic, it had been a while since I had gone to visit and my bedroom had become my dad’s storage unit in the past year. I pushed the boxes against the wall and spotted a large redwood chest in the back corner
“Dad, what’s in that?”
He followed my eyes, “Oh that old thing? Its empty, I’m sure.”
“Don’t you have a key for it or something?” I asked, eyeing a tiny silver lock.
He shook his head, “It belonged to my grandfather,” he said, “I’m pretty sure it’s empty, I had nowhere to put it so I moved it up here years ago, I had actually forgotten about it.”
“It’s nice.”
“Yeah—it’s old. So have you been around the block yet, saying ‘hi’ to all your old friends?” he made the waving motion with his right hand, “The Thompsons were really happy when they heard you were coming to stay with me.”
I smiled not really listening to what he was saying. I gathered enough to respond. “Not yet.” I said.
“Thanks for the help Jane; sorry to ask you, you have your own unpacking to do still.”
“It’s not a problem at all,” I told him, “It is my room we’re clearing out after all.”
He smiled.
I climbed down the ladder and headed back to my room.
II
Becky
PEOPLE have always told me that I was eccentric, but eccentric is just a nicer way of saying different, and different is just a nicer way of saying “weird.” So stop sugar coating it and cut the foreplay. I’m weird. Unique, original, whatever you choose to call it, I’m weird.
Heaven to me was the dozens of liquor bottles hidden in my parents’ pantry, if parents you could even call them. Since Danny’s death my mother had become very distant. She was so caught up in her son’s tragedy that she only recently started caring about what I did again—just what I need—and my father just recently stopped hating her. Though they shared the same pain they were unable to comfort each other. I have decided that as long as I don’t let myself get close to people then they can’t hurt me, but that’s just how it works isn’t it? You can’t help but get close to the people you want to keep as far away from you as possible.
I was planning on locking myself in my room for the remainder of the day, but something inside of me had made me terribly anxious and I ached to get out. As I headed for the door I heard a knock. I jumped startled and prepared myself to tell someone I wasn’t interested in their product.
“Oh.” I sighed in relief opening the door to see familiar gray eyes. “Becky.”
Becky was like the sister of my soul. I met her one summer when I was out visiting my grandparents and we instantly clicked and since my parents’ divorce and my living with Ethan I saw her more often than I ever hoped I would. She was the only person I was able to let myself love. Surprisingly enough, it was a relief that she never tried to cheer me up, and rarely asked me what was wrong, or what she could do to help, she just always knew. I meant to get around to visiting her since I’d moved in but had been preoccupied trying to get settled.
“Yeah,” she laughed, “just me.”
“God, I thought you were selling something,” I said frowning, “Come in I guess.”
“I don’t usually ask you this but, are you all right?”
“Well—yeah—I’m obviously beside reality Becky.”
“I know how reclusive you can be, but as long as you don’t cut me out of your little world, I’ll be okay.” She laughed. I appreciated how she never pushed an issue. She understood that when I wanted to talk about something I would.
“I see you’re on your way out…?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, “I have no idea where I was going.”
She smiled, “You’d end up where you always do.”
I chuckled, “I guess Albany’s is the only place where I feel like I can actually think.”
“It’s funny Jane,” she started, “that you go to the bookstore to think and go to your bedroom to read.”
“I don’t have room in my mind to realize when things don’t make sense.”
“You can’t keep beating yourself up.”
“Oh, but I can.”
“Jane…” She sighed, shutting the front door and sat beside me on the stairs, “Nothing was your fault.”
“I know.” I answered, “I’m very much sure of that Becky, but to be perfectly honest, that’s what hurts. It hurts more to know that I had absolutely no control over it, to know that I couldn’t protect him. I had to get out of California.”
She embraced me. It was the only response I wanted, the only one I needed, and she must have known that. She suggested coming with me for a cup of coffee.
We sat down and I instantly launched into complaining about Aidan.
“So this totally annoying guy was harassing me the other day.”
“What do you mean?” she laughed,
“Well, I was just minding my own business trying to find an interesting book and he felt it necessary to ask me my name about ten times.”
“Okay, and this is bad how?’
“I have no idea who he is, and made it clear that I wasn’t interested in finding out.”
“Why not?”
“There was something about him that struck me as…odd.”
She laughed, “Yeah you’re one to judge what’s odd.”
I smiled, about to respond when I noticed Aidan across the room, staring at me with those enticing green eyes. I looked away trying to pretend I didn’t notice him. I saw Becky eyeing the guy over by the condiments. She got up, pulling her top down showing more cleavage that I thought necessary. She flipped her long brown hair as she added a suggestive sway to her hips. I decided to leave her to it and secluded myself in the “new age” section flipping through books on Santeria and Wicca. It was quiet and for once I was able to put myself to rest and actually think. I saw a face in my mind, a face I hadn’t seen in three years, the one I dreamed of every night with innocent blue eyes. I sighed, savoring the vision. My thoughts were instantly shattered by a familiar voice.
“Reading?” I heard.
“No,” I answered, placing a book back on the shelf, “No, the book and I were just having a conversation.”
“All right,” he chuckled, “I asked for that one.”
I picked up a random book and opened it to a random page, trying to ignore my irritating distraction.
“So what’s new with you?”
“Why?” I asked, “It’s not like you’re actually interested.”
“Why do you have to be like that?” he demanded, he sounded almost angry, “I’m just trying to be nice to you.”
“Look, Aidan,” I started, slamming the book closed, “I’m not interested in being nice all right. I just want to be left alone.”
“Nobody likes to always be alone.”
“Then does that make me nobody?” He opened his mouth to speak but I put my hand up, “I’m sorry,” I said, “I just—I just want to be left alone.”
“Well—can I at least get your name?”
I sighed, “Jane Doe,” I said, and turned away.
I heard him mumble as he followed me, “Oh yeah—now that one is real original.”
I smiled at the sarcasm in his voice and heard him pick up his pace as he followed me.
“Okay, just your first name then?”
“I just told you.”
“Jane?” he questioned, “well is that…”
“Aidan—please!” I announced, turning around sharply.
“Fine,” he mumbled, “nice meeting you.”
I sighed and turned back around. I heard him grumble as he walked away and I was thinking about saying something to make him feel less offended, after all my not wanting to talk to people was nothing personal. I turned to look at him but he was already gone.
“Well—good.” I muttered, at least I was alone.
I met back up with Becky and used my mess of packed boxes as an excuse to leave the book store and get away from Aidan.
* * *
I locked myself in my room with a random romance novel I had bought without even reading the title. I was more tired than usual but something kept me awake. I closed my eyes, simply waiting for sleep to find me. Suddenly a feeling of dread washed over me and tore me from that trance between sleep and awake. I sprang up in bed as headlights cut across my window.
Daniel!
I raced down the stairs and opened the door. I saw him stumbling toward me. His mouth was open like he wanted to speak but all he was doing was crying. The light from the porch illuminated that sight that would haunt my mind for the rest of my life. His eyebrows were drawn together pressing thin creases into his forehead. He looked miserable, nothing like himself. There was this frightened look in his eyes, almost angry, in agony. I stood there in the doorway watching him stumble further into the light. I wanted to run to him but was paralyzed in my place. He had his hand clutching at his stomach.
“Danny?” He fell limply into my arms. I could feel panic creeping into my voice.
“Jane.” He choked out my name.
I felt hypnotized at the sight of his hand gripping his stomach and the sight of the thin lines of blood running down his fingers. I lost my breath for a moment. I saw that look through my own tears, the one he would give me when we were really young and I would fall off my bike, telling me he was there and everything was going to be all right. I could see the color draining from his face, accenting the blue of his eyes, turning them to a light crystal hue.
“Oh god, Danny!” I ran my fingers through his hair, “Oh god please don’t leave me. Please!”
I saw him weakly smile at me and I screamed his name when those gorgeous eyes of his closed. I cradled him in my arms trying to ignore the blood that was by then covering his hand.
My mother flew down the stairs in her nightdress and robe.
“Mom,” I cried. “MOM!”
She pushed me aside and covered her mouth with her hand when she saw the blood on my shirt. I screamed as loud as I could, I screamed for long moments, letting out the feelings of pure agony.
I flew up in bed, running my hands through my hair. I sighed heavily and lied back down. “No more nightmares,” I whispered to myself, “please!” The dreams were always different but when I awoke one thing was always the same—Daniel was dead. Every time I dreamed it was reminding me of all the ways I hadn’t been there for him.
I tried to shut my eyes again but the dream just kept replaying. That beautiful boy in my arms, bleeding furiously all over my white shirt. How is it fair that things like that must happen? The pain in my dream was so real, the fear, the torture. I cried exhausting myself and finally fell back asleep. The last thing I saw was the digital clock reading 4:17 am.
I woke up to the phone on my nightstand.
“Hello?”
“Hey did I wake you up?”
“Uh—no. Don’t worry about it, Becky. What is it?”
“Wondering about our beach trip today…?”
“Oh!” I cried sitting up, “Of course. I forgot, gimmie maybe thirty minutes.”
“Okay see you then.”
I hurried myself but Becky got there sooner than I expected. I grabbed a towel and hurried to Becky’s car, leaving a note for Ethan, telling him where I was.
We laid out our brightly colored towels and watched the waves break. It was colder than I had expected being so used to the heat of California, but the sun was out, though low in the sky it was still there. It wasn’t a crowded beach like California; we were the only people there. It seemed unnatural for things to be so quiet but I enjoyed it. Seagulls rode the waves in the distance and sometimes the clouds would come in and darken the sky for minutes at a time. The water was the color of smoke, but if the light hit it right you could really see the lovely blue color reflecting from the patch of sky not covered by the clouds.
Becky’s perfect figure in her black bikini made me feel so self-conscious, and her dark round sunglasses seemed completely unnecessary I pulled my attention back to the breaking waves.
“So,” she started slyly, “what about Aidan?”
His name made me jump and I turned quickly to look at her but suddenly recoiled. “Who?”
She laughed, “Yeah, he came to talk to me. After you left the last time we were at the coffee shop.”
“What?” I sighed, “He just won’t give up.”
“He really wanted to know your name.”
I groaned and turned my attention back to the horizon. “You didn’t tell him did you?”
“Jane,” she sighed, “Come on.”
“So…”
“Well—when I told him, for some reason he got mad at me.”
I burst into laughter, “Oh god!”
“What?” she cried.
“I’m sorry—it’s just—I did tell him my name,” I chuckled, “he didn’t believe me. He thinks I’m messing with him.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were,” she said dryly.
“Why do you say that?” I asked slightly defensive.
“You don’t like people Jane,” she said, “that simple.”
“huh.” I mused.
“But you still like him.”
“God, Becky. No not at all!” I broke eye contact, bringing my gaze to the sand as I ran my fingers through it, feeling the unexpected coolness.
She smiled, not at all convinced by my outburst, “I think you do.”
“Well maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do,” I answered, keeping my voice even, “I just like his eyes—I mean; I guess he’s sort of nice looking.”
She laughed “Yeah nice looking, that’s an understatement if there ever was one.”
“All right,” I admitted, “He’s beautiful, but he’s irritating.”
She shook her head. “Well then I guess it would be okay for me to ask him out.”
“What?”
“Well—you wouldn’t mind would you? Since you don’t like him I …”
“No, go ahead.” I answered, trying to fight back the unexpected sting of jealousy.
“Uh-huh.” She murmured, looking at me suspiciously.
“Well, honestly Becky, I can’t say he isn’t intriguing, I mean, nobody has ever been so persistent about knowing my name.”
She chuckled, “I know.”
“I need a new one.”
“A new—name?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“One that fits me better, more original—like me.”
“Fits you better?” she laughed, “Are you crazy? Jane Doe fits you perfectly.”
“How?”
“Well—nobody really knows who you are—right?”
I thought about it for a moment, trying to keep my expression unreadable. “Maybe.” I murmured.
III
Guilt
I felt I didn’t exist. I died that warm night in May, I died the night when Detective Styles knocked on my door giving my family news of Danny’s death. I clung to everything I could remember about him let go of everything else. Danny was different—like me in some ways. I’ve stopped trying to make sense of it, to make sense out of the fact that the only person who truly understood me was stolen from me.
Now I must admit that I would not have been entirely honest with myself if I were to say that I wasn’t as least attracted to Aidan—that was a sure fact. He was flawless without a doubt but I couldn’t let myself think about that. The species of men were as far on my agenda as possible. Summer break was almost over and I was not yet ready to think about anything but college and how I was going to get there with my math skills where they were, but being the person I am, I couldn’t help but feel guilty about that afternoon in the bookstore. Had I just been a little too harsh?
A walk sounded nice. I thought out loud, evaluating my mood. “What is my mood?” As usual, I couldn’t tell. Sometimes I truly felt insane. I already knew I was weird and clumsy, I had accepted that, in fact I had embraced it, but I often wondered that if I indulged in weird things for the reasons that I did if that may have made it possible that my life was just one delusion after another. The tragedy however, is that it wasn’t. I would never wake up to the sound of Danny’s voice I would never again look into those blue eyes contrasted with the clarity of his russet skin. I would never be able to confess my fears to him or tell him my dreams. This was my life—real. It was no bad dream.
I walked slowly through the woods near the house, not even checking to see if I was on the trail. I tried to think about nothing. Not that I had tried not to think about anything but I had actually tried to think about nothing. But nothing was—well something and it proved more difficult than I thought.
I sighed, pressing my fingers to my temples. Bad attempt, I thought, okay think about something—insignificant. For some reason, no matter what I thought about—a music video I had daydreamed through, or a romance novel that almost held my interest all of my thoughts came back—to Aidan. How stupid—or insane was I? I turned my attention to a small rabbit that hopped in front of me and froze. I was caught off guard by the fact that I noticed his fur was the same color as Aidan’s perfect hair. No matter what I did I couldn’t get him out of my head. I felt guilty, I felt bad for my sarcastic behavior when all he was doing was being nice. Or was he being nice? He was a guy after all and most guys aren’t nice to girls just to be nice, but to get something in particular from them. Oddly enough Aidan did seem different somehow. My chest continued to burn and I thought the trees around me had begun to shake. It only took me a moment to realize that I was the one shaking and the ground appeared to be moving from the heavy rain, attacking the wood and leaves at my feet. I wrapped my arms around my body and headed back the way I had come.
I focused on the cold, not unhappy to feel miserable physically, because it kept my mind off Aidan and Danny. I realized I could never free my mind of Aidan until I apologized to him. Hopefully that wouldn’t open a door of welcome into the life of Jane, if it did, I would be forced to close it without causing my chest to burn with guilt.
I continued walking aimlessly until I found a break in the trees and walked quickly to the house, trying to escape the cold. I secured myself in my bedroom and stripped off my soaking clothes and threw on a pair of gray sweat pants and a black tank. I focused myself on thinking about the rain—the woods, anything but Aidan. I put a CD into my stereo. Ethan had made me a mix of—something. Strange as it was I never listened to music, it usually made me feel sad. Not that I don’t appreciate art, I have notebooks full of lyrics and I can quote the poetry of music, but could never get passed the blaring guitar, and pounding drums. I couldn’t listen to the CD, but I needed it to tune out so I could more easily think of nothing. The vivid dream of Danny had torn a hole in my stomach, though I wanted to remember him, I didn’t want to remember him like that. I couldn’t think about Ethan either—I was obviously a terrible daughter, hadn’t seen Ethan in three years and avoided conversation and concealed myself in my room. I needed to make an effort to let my father know at least a little bit about who I was. It wasn’t easy though; he was too pushy with the questions.
It was the last day of summer break and the stress was building up again. I ate breakfast in silence and Ethan read the paper, occasionally glancing up at me. I avoided eye contact; it was uncomfortable to look at him it was like he was trying to read my mind.
“How’s Becky?” he asked. Taking a sip of his coffee he looked up at me, “I noticed you two went out yesterday.”
“She’s fine.” I answered soberly.
“Well—did you have fun?”
“Sure.”
“Uh huh. You have school today?”
“Dad—it’s Sunday.”
“Right,” he answered, “When you’re like me and don’t get days off, you forget.”
I nodded, trying to smile. He dropped it there, perhaps realizing I was hopeless. Again I escaped to the bookstore. I sat in silence with a cup of coffee. The whole in my stomach was healing as the dream was fading. When I got home I devoted some time tackling the mess of packed boxes, still not completely moved in. I gathered my schoolbooks and a clean pair of clothes for the next day. Back home I didn’t mind school—but here I couldn’t go unnoticed. I felt like a virtual stranger in a small town. I slept well that night—no nightmares. I got up slowly; Ethan must have already left for work. I cramped my long limbs into the tiny shower. I didn’t worry with my hair; I threw it up in a ponytail, and dressed myself in a simple pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt. I grabbed my school bag and left the house. I ended up early so I sat in the car reading until people started flooding the campus. I tried to hide myself in the sea of students but it still seemed like people were staring. I wished I could have turned invisible or blend in with the walls. I rushed to my first class with my head down. When I opened the classroom door, I felt my breath explode.
“Thank god!” I mumbled, and took the seat next to Becky.
“Oh hey,” she said, with the biggest smile on her face, “I was hoping we’d end up with at least one class together.”
I smiled, “I was terrified we wouldn’t”. Considering the fact that math wasn’t exactly my strongest subject—I could probably use some help.
The day dragged. Every class seemed like a whole day. I knew I couldn’t go unnoticed, people stared at me like I was an alien, they asked me my name or tried to start conversations, but I avoided it as best I could. It was finally lunch and I dreaded it; luckily Becky found me and kept me company. Of course she insisted as always that she take a thousand unnecessary pictures of me. I tried to hide my face.
“Oh come on,” she laughed cheerful as ever, “you look adorable.”
“Hey.” I heard.
I turned to see Aidan.
“Oh hi,” Becky answered.
He was talking to her?
He glared at me but wouldn’t keep eye contact; he didn’t sit with us but chose a table by himself.
“You know for somebody who tries so hard to talk to me, he certainly likes to be by himself.”
“What?”
I cocked my head toward Aidan.
“Oh,” she chuckled, “Why don’t you just go talk to him?”
I didn’t even answer.
“He’s new here too,” she continued.
I noticed he wasn’t looking in my direction so I took a minute to stare at his perfect face. I had honestly never seen anyone so beautiful. His hair hung messily in his face in an intentional kind of disorder. His face was flawless and pale; it contrasted wonderfully with the piercing green of his eyes. He looked up and I immediately broke my gaze.
I looked at Becky; she was staring at me making the blood rush to my cheeks. Her smile told me that she didn’t know what to say and I was meant to read her mind.
“What?” I whispered.
She shook her head, “what did you do, he’s glaring at you.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
I knew it was probably the worst time for me to look in his direction but it was like my eyes weren’t attached to the rest of me. I looked over, and sure enough he was staring at me—glowering. He didn’t stop with the death stare so I looked away.
I was relieved when I finally got to my last class, realizing that the first dreadful day was almost over. I had walked slowly, so I rushed to the nearest seat I could get to before the bell rang. I cringed and gritted my teeth when I saw Aidan sitting right beside me. That burning guilt started eating away at me and that mental wound in my stomach began to throb. I decided I should at least try to make conversation and move into an apology.
“Hey.”
He stared at me.
“Oh, you’re talking to me now?”
“Well…”
“Don’t bother.”
He sat there silently; sometimes he would clinch his hands into fists or pass me a glare. I was only trying to apologize but I guess I had asked for it, and he was after all leaving me alone which is what I had wanted in the first place.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered. I wasn’t sure if he heard me but he turned to stare at me.
“Yeah,” he answered, sarcastically, “I’m sure you care so much more than you did a couple days ago.”
“Really, Aidan…”
The bell rang and he bolted out the door before I could say another word. Oh well—I did apologize at least. My heart was pounding; it irritated me to realize he made me so nervous. He was so mean, but I can’t say I didn’t deserve it.
The next day was the same. Aidan seemed harsh. It made me uneasy. He didn’t have that curious innocence in his face; his eyebrows were pulled together, forcing wrinkles in his ivory skin that seemed permanent. I just kept my eyes on my paper, sometimes I could feel him staring at me and my ears would burn and my heart would race. He made me feel so self-conscious.
I saw Becky talking to him after class and as soon as he saw me he left.
“What was that about?”
She shrugged, “nothing really,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “he just came to talk to me.”
“I see.” I answered dryly.
“He likes you.”