Page 28 of June: Jess' Story

The fuck is she doing here?With him?Fuck’s sake.

I throw open the door to my Jeep then peel out of Britain’s drive. I’d just wanted to check on my sister, make sure she was eating, see if the girls needed anything. I'd known something was off the minute I walked in, though. The house was too quiet. At first I thought no one was home, so I texted my nieces to see where they were.

J

Hey, I’m at your house, where are you guys?

C

We’re at Sandy’s in Spearhead, spending the night.

E

I think mom’s in a bad way, check on her?

C

Dad and Jess are coming, they’ll be there soon.

All they needed to say was Jess and I was ready to go, but the giggles coming from the guest suite gave me pause. There was that old feeling, back again, stopping me in my tracks. There’s a part of me that couldn’t move, frozen, standing there, waiting.Fine, hoping.

And lo and behold, who stumbles out, but Jess…followed by Damian. It was fucking suspect. I didn’t mean to say anything, but her name just sort of…came out. Haven’t seen her in a long time. Purposefully.

I avoid her like the plague. Haven’t talked to her in, I don’t know, maybe 6 years?Fine, I know exactly how long it’s been, but that’s besides the fact.

I head straight back to my mom’s house because I should probably eat. But suddenly I don’t feel even remotely hungry.

What the fuck is Jess doing here?

She’s like a parasite. Pesky, tough to get rid of. She uses people. And most of the time, people don’t even know they’re being used. Don’t like it. Not for my sister, not for my best friend. But just like she does, she embeds herself in your life. Wasn’t any different for Britain. It’s not any different with Damian.

Maybe it’s my fault for introducing her. Getting her the job as Britain’s assistant. I’ll accept the fault there, but everything else? That’s on her.

It comes on quick and it’s almost impossible to ignore. But it’s there, that urge to flee is making the slow rise up my spine. Eventually it’ll take root in my mind, and it’ll be all I can do to not load up a rucksack and walk away from it all.

But I promised Britain I’d be here. She’s got no one looking out for her, and yeah, she might be 35 and not completely helpless, but I’ve seen her like this before.

This time is worse.

This heartbreak is different. This is the kind that’ll put you in the fucking ground if you aren’t careful.

We’re runners, Brit and I. We both have the same problem. When shit hits the fan, we bolt. I retreat, she just goes. But things are changing. We’re both trying. I’m trying for her and she’s trying for her girls. We used to be tight until I ran away.The last time.

In my absence, I might as well have thrown her to the wolves because when we finally caught up again, she was just a shell of her former self, passed out on the floor of a bar in Spearhead Lake.

If that’s not a wakeup call for the both of us, well, I’d wonder if we still had a heart beating in our chests.

Brit was fine in the end. Passed out because she forgets to eat…also she’s pregnant and anemic, but all that tells me is, again, she needs someone looking after her. And “fine” is relative. Health-wise, she might be fine, but everything else-wise, she’s fucked.

We’re fucked up, I know. Both of us. Nothing about either of our childhoods was particularly good. Mine might have been bad, but then sometimes I think Brit had it worse. I knew love, but I’m not sure if she ever did.

Up until I was six, life was pretty good. My mom loved me, she didn’t let my asshole father near me on the bad days, and we had friends. I was normal, running through sprinklers and playing soccerin the street with the neighborhood kids.Shit was normal.

Untilthatday, when life turned upside down, and everything went to shit. It was the day my mom almost died at the hands of my dad. I didn’t see it, but I heard it. Still hear it in my nightmares if I’m honest.

On nights when I don’t hear my mother screaming, it’s the sound of the jaws of life scraping against metal.

That day changed the entire course of my life, though. And my sister’s, too. She wasn’t even born yet, but that day was the day Britain went from not existing to being. I hate saying it, even thinking the word because its fucking terrible, but just to give you an idea: My father Ray, he’s an abuser, a rapist, and an addict.