Part 4
by Karen Dunbar ([email protected])
"Excuse me? Miss?"
"Hm?" Jen looked round to see the customer leaning over the counter at her.
"This isn't what I asked for. I said de-caf ."
"Oh. Sorry." Absently, Jen poured him another cup, and swore as she spilled the hot liquid on her hand. Damn! This wasn't working. The whole idea of the extra shift had been to keep herself busy, keep her mind occupied and off her problems, but no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on work her thoughts still kept drifting. She heard an irritated sigh behind her.
"I'm very sorry about this, sir." Mrs Roland gave the customer a conciliatory smile, which turned into a meaningful glare as her gaze swept Jen's way. "Jen, perhaps you should go put some ice on that hand? And then take a break. I'll deal with this gentleman." The simpering smile was firmly in place again as she looked back at the aggrieved customer, Jen having been summarily dismissed.
Her hand throbbing, Jen walked straight past the freezer. The pain was somehow comforting, and she wasn't about to die from a burn on her hand. She laughed shortly at the irony of that. Not the best way of putting it, Jen, she thought to herself, bitterly. Looking down at her hand she could see the skin beginning to blister. She probably should put ice on it, but she really couldn't make herself care- it was just a bit of skin.
Jen walked past the small staff room- there was no-one there right now, but anyone could walk in at anytime, and she really didn't feel like answering the inevitable questions about her mood tonight. Instead she made for the back door, and sank down gratefully in the cool dark outside. She rested her head against the brick wall of the coffee house and closed her eyes, breathing deeply, listening to the sounds all around. She could still hear the buzz of conversation in and around the building, but it was muted enough that the burbling rush of the creek could be heard above it. She sat there, motionless, letting the sound wash over her. Quiet. Tranquil. Relaxed.
Only, she wasn't. She could feel the tightness in her chest, the lump in her throat. She could feel the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. She opened her eyes, staring determinedly into the night, trying to swallow down the lump. She wasn't going to cry. She felt the now familiar sense of nausea as she tried to force down her fear, the nausea that was coming more and more frequently, and getting stronger every time. Her lip was still trembling though, and try as she might she couldn't stop the tears from welling in her eyes. She couldn't stop her thoughts. Oh, God, no. I don't want to feel this again! Please! She could hear herself breathing, ragged and gasping as she strove to deny her emotion, the mind rending sense of hopelessness and desolation that was just waiting for her to weaken, to acknowledge it. She fought, but she knew her shell was breaking, that the protective nothingness she had immersed herself in wasn't enough, that the despair would overwhelm her again. She couldn't give in to it. She couldn't go through that again. Pain. Pain would help. Desperately she gouged at her burned hand, sinking her nails in deeply, clawing frantically at the blistered skin. Oh, God, it hurt! She sucked her breath through clenched teeth as the physical pain intensified, focusing her concentration, subduing her feelings. She raked her nails savagely across her skin, on her hand, her wrist, her arm, gouging deeper, until she saw beads of blood gleaming darkly in the livid gashes she had made. The droplets shone softly in the moonlight, like little jewels on the surface of her skin. It was quite pretty, really. And those droplets could hold her death. She leaned back, making herself breathe slowly, deeply. Yes. That had helped.
Her eyes were dry once more as she pushed herself up from the ground, the lump in her throat and the tightness in her chest gone. Setting her face she stepped back into the coffee house. After all the mistakes she'd made tonight Mrs Roland would be happy to send her home early.
"Andie, no No, really, you don't have to I'm OK, you don't." exasperated, Jack held the phone out at arm's length, letting Andie run down. It took a while, but eventually he became aware of silence at the other end of the line. Well, almost silence.
"Jack? Are you still there? Jack?!"
"Yeah, I'm here, Andie. Is it OK if I speak now?" Not waiting to give her a chance to get back into her stride, Jack continued, "Andie, I am OK. Honestly. I may not be living in a blissful idyll right now, but it's nothing I can't handle." He paused a moment, hoping he might get away with the lie over the phone, without his expression to betray him. He heard Andie draw breath to start again, and he went on quickly, "Thanks for the concern, Andie, and thanks for the offer, but it's really not necessary. And I know you've got a lot of homework to be doing, so really, don't worry about it. There's no need for you to be coming over at this time of night." That, at least was the truth. Well intentioned as she might be, what could she do to help, even if he could tell her what was going on? But wouldn't it be so much easier if someone else knew? If there was someone he could turn to for the support he so badly needed? He pushed those treacherous thoughts away- he could cope with this. He'd be there for Jen when she came to him, and he certainly wouldn't betray her by telling anyone else about such a distressing and private concern.
"Are you sure, Jack? You seemed really upset this afternoon"
Jack steeled himself for yet another lie. "Yeah, I'm sure. Don't worry about me, Andie, I'm fine. You get back to work- do you realise you've just wasted a whole 15 minutes of study time on this phone call?!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Jack! I'm not that bad! I can spare a few minutes a day for a chat with my brother! Well, as long as you don't go having any crises around about exam time anyway- I don't know if I could fit that into my revision timetable," Andie chuckled. "Seriously, Jack, I'm here if you need to talk. About anything. It's about time I gave back a little of the support you gave me when I needed it."
"Thanks. And I do know I can come to you with anything."
"Well, just see that you do!"
Jack sighed, "Yeah, I will. Thanks for calling, Andie. I'll see you at school tomorrow."
"Bye, Jack."
Jack flopped back on his bed as he disconnected the call, and lay staring at the ceiling, trying to think of something other than how much he wanted to run round to Andie's and tell her everything. She would help, he knew. She couldn't do anything about the situation, but just to have someone to talk to about this, someone to put their arms around him and tell him everything would be OK. That she was genuinely concerned about him he had no doubt, and he knew that she would keep Jen's problems to herself if he asked her to. But he couldn't. How could he expect Jen to trust him, to accept his support and friendship, if he betrayed her confidence like that? No, he couldn't tell anyone. He just had to do the best he could for Jen by himself.
Resolutely, Jack turned his attention to the sheets of paper he'd brought home from school. He'd spent most of the afternoon and evening reading through the printouts he'd got from the computer lab earlier, in the hope that he might find something which could help Jen. There was a lot of information there, and numerous telephone numbers offering support and advice, but none of that would be of any use if Jen wouldn't even acknowledge the problem. He understood her desire, her need, to hide from her feelings- he had done the same thing himself for years before admitting to himself that he was gay- but this was a totally different situation. Remembering Jen's face when he had confronted her by her locker, Jack had to force back tears. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't run from this situation, and she couldn't keep the emotion it had created under control. She was trying desperately to ignore her fear, and in doing so she was hurting herself even more.
Jack glanced at his watch- 11.21. Jen should have been home nearly an hour ago. She must have gone for another of her midnight walks, he supposed. His gaze shifted to his open window, and he sat staring into the night, lost in thought, for several minutes. He tried to restrain his turbulent emotions and think the situation through logically. Jen was afraid and upset. She knew he was worried about her, that he wanted to support her in this, and she knew that she could trust him completely and that he'd do everything in his power to help her. And she was deliberately avoiding him. In avoiding him, the only person who had the slightest idea what was bothering her, she was avoiding any possibility of being forced to actually face up to the situation and her feelings about it. She was becoming more withdrawn from everyone else as well, her usual confident effervescence gone, to be replaced by the quiet blankness he remembered from last year, after Abbey died. Jen was suffering, not just from the possibility of HIV infection, but from her own reaction to the whole predicament. Her attempt to push down the powerful and frightening emotions that she obviously couldn't control was causing her a lot more pain than even Terry's announcement itself had. So, logically, the best way to reduce the pain that she was feeling was for her to begin to face up to the situation, to at least acknowledge the problem, and to try and deal with her emotions. Jack felt his face set in determination as he let out an anxious sigh. Pulling on his jacket he crept quietly to the back door, careful not to disturb Grams. He knew there was no way Jen was going to start facing up to this on her own.
Moonlight rippled silver across the surface of the creek, glinting brightly against the darkness, but Jen was barely aware of it. She held her injured hand outstretched before her. The dark mass of congealed blood stood out starkly against the paleness of her skin, fascinating her. How could she find that sight so satisfying, so comforting? Gently she ran her fingers over the wound, savouring the warmth around it, the roughness of the scab that was forming. The dull throbbing she had been growing accustomed to intensified with her touch, and again she wondered that she could find pain so reassuring. As she studied her handiwork she felt drained, and although she could feel the despair lurking just beyond consciousness, she felt more relaxed than she had in days. Odd.
Jen leaned back against the tree trunk and let her gaze roam her surroundings. Her lips curved in a sad, empty smile as she looked out across the silvered blackness that was the creek, wavering hypnotically, the reflected moon dancing on the water. It didn't seem real, somehow, the vibrancy of the silver flitting across the surface of those depths. It felt like a dream, sitting here, alone and silent, in the dead of night. It wasn't real. She wasn't real. She was vaguely aware that it was late, that she should be heading home, but she couldn't summon the will or the energy to move. Leaning forward to clasp her arms around her legs, she rested her head on her knees. It was a beautiful night, warm and clear and fresh. And she didn't want to go home right now.
Jack swore under his breath as yet another rock, unseen in the darkness, sent him staggering forward. Regaining his balance he stopped to look around him, trying to establish his whereabouts. In every direction his view was blocked by trees, but he could hear the flow of the creek to his left. Pushing his way through the foliage towards the sound, Jack remembered all the times he and Jen had spent in the past just sitting, staring out over the water. He really should have just headed straight there in the first place, but he had hoped he might meet Jen on her way home on the faint trail that marked their normal passage through the woods.
He stopped to catch his breath as he came to the edge of the trees, relieved to have at last made it. His eyes scanned the length of shore that he could see in the faint light of the moon, but there was no sign of Jen. He started purposefully down the shore. If he hadn't already missed her on her way back to the house, he was certain she'd be somewhere around here. As he wandered along the bank he wondered what he would say to her, how he could persuade her to listen and face up to things. She had to, he knew, and the only way she would do that was if he made her, but what if she pushed him away again? Or worse, what if he pushed her away by trying to force the issue?
Jack wracked his brain for a way to handle the situation as he walked, searching, but he was no closer to a solution when he noticed a figure huddled against a tree at the edge of the woods. Moonlight gleamed softly on blonde curls and pale skin. Jen. She was staring out over the creek, oblivious, her eyes wide in her expressionless face. No, Jack corrected himself, not expressionless. Bleak. Empty. Hopeless. The sight of her seemed to stab at him, overwhelming his concerns about the coming confrontation. He had left this too long already. Taking a deep breath, Jack drew himself up and started to walk towards her.
Jen watched the moonlight playing across the water with misty, unfocused eyes, not truly aware of what she was seeing. Her thoughts had begun to wander along old and familiar paths, and she was powerless to reign them in, but in her dreamlike trance she could float above them. Her abstraction was all that protected her from the currents of depression that were surging through her mind, and that protection was not complete. Even as she lost herself in the hypnotic light display, unable to pull her gaze away even had she been able to muster up the will, feelings of desolation seeped through the fa�ade. Those shifting light patterns before her filled the world, and in her mind it seemed they filled it with tears, stark against a blackness that she struggled not to imagine swallowing her. Unnoticed, tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared across the water. She struggled not to wish for that blackness to swallow her, to put an end to the constant fear and pain.
An end. That was what she wanted, what she just couldn't see, no matter how hard she tried. She needed to put an end to these feelings, they were too intense for her to carry on with. Why couldn't she just switch them off?! Jen stared wide eyed across the creek, fighting back the tears that threatened to choke her, desperately forcing down the sobs that tried to wrack her body. Her breath came hard and shallow. This was too much. It had to stop, please God it had to stop!
And there was the creek. Cold. Black. Deep. Inviting. Beautiful. Just a few steps She imagined the icy blackness engulfing her, wrapping her around in a liquid cocoon, drawing her away, away from the fear, from the pain. A release. An end. She stood, her gaze upon the water never shifting. Slowly she walked forward, the whole of her world taken up by the shimmering darkness lapping at the shore before her. An end. She stood on the shore, letting the icy water swirl around her ankles, stabbing at her skin. A sound, half sigh of relief, half sob of despair, escaped her, as she took another step into the freezing current. And a hand gripped her shoulder, stopping her dead.