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A groan echoed from Jakes throat as I pressed closer; a wonderful humming that drove me crazy. Our mouths collided and the wonderful heat coursed through me. Little explosions of excitement rippled over my body as I wiggled to the edge of the counter top.
Jake picked me up and waltzed into the living room where he laid me on the carpet and hovered above me.
With a light tug, he untied a shoulder strap on my sundress. Promising, "I'm gonna give you rug burns."
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23
-Avery
No one will ever sit me down and ask me questions the way they do with Angel. It's her accounting of that night that everyone cares about. Like she's the only one that can offer anything of substance.
I should be used to this by now. It shouldn't matter.
But see, this time we're serving has never been about just that one night. It's about everything: every single second that has been wrapped up into what is my whole life. The tragedy of each and every preceding night that led up to the only one the system cares about.
No. It shouldn't matter to me, but it does.
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"Just leave," I screamed, slamming the passenger door. There were people all up and down the sidewalk staring at me, but I didn't care.
"I don't think you're supposed to go alone." He ran a hand over his short blonde hair, staring at the rearview mirror.
"I don't need you, Troy." Screw him and his pity.
Angel didn't even get an invite. She was at home with a migraine and if I couldn't have her, then I sure as hell wasn't having Troy.
"I'm trying to take care of my responsibility, alright? How long is this gonna take?"
Shielding myself with my arms, I stepped away. "Rosa's waiting."
Ticking off the seconds in my head, I didn't even get to five before his posture relaxed. He stared out at the road as his furrowed brow smoothed out. I wanted to puke, seeing how glad he was. Not another second passed before his Honda pulled into traffic.
Troy never looked back. Not once.
Usually, night was when I had the toughest time. That was when the quiet world screamed, so loud I couldn't sleep. But watching him drive away, it was like everything that made me who I am faded a little more. Like, my very essence was no more than the dust behind his tires. I was an obligation, an afterthought, a miserable reflection in his rearview. Just a flat shape spread across the glass; not quite human. I was a passing deviant thought he'd already forgotten about. I was the snide remark he might think, but never say out loud because anyone within hearing distance would point. Surrounding conversations would be replaced with half-cocked eyebrows and whispers at my uttering.
Raw anger boiled in my stomach as images of that cocky bastard and all the ways I could make him sorry painted my thoughts. I was on the brink and it was only nine in the morning.
I took in a deep breath, curling my hands into fists. The only way to face what I had to do was to keep my head down and move. So that's what I did. I put one foot in front of the other until I made it through the line of picketers into the controversial downtown building. I signed in with her name and took a seat.
Barely ten minutes later, I was getting escorted to a changing room. After putting on the hospital gown, one scrub-clad worker directed me to follow the next scrub-clad worker to a desk sitting in an open hallway. I sat down and held my arm out, palm up, as directed by the next person in scrubs.
The nurse jerked the bend from my elbow, stretching it along the length of the half-desk as the hall behind me filled with passing patients. The tourniquet was too tight.
"Why are you taking my blood?"
"It's a standard check for disease. Make a fist."
I did. The needle plunged in, quick and stinging. I would have jerked away if I wasn't being held. The vial filled up quickly. Warm and red.
A string around the nurses' neck had a card with her picture beside the name of the clinic. I tried to read it, but she kept moving; withdrawing to cap the needle.
"Go on down the hall to room three. A technician will be with you in a few minutes." She didn't even try to look me in the eye. Not once. The nurse knew the crease of my elbow better than my face.
I grabbed my pile of clothes from the floor near my feet. It cost a dollar for a locker, but I only had one dollar and needed it for bus fare. "Can I put my sweater on?"
