In the End

Thelma and Louise

The paper with Jade's number is taped to the corner of her bathroom mirror. She sees it every time she gets ready in the morning, and just before she prepares herself to end the day. After the kids are all in bed, tucked in and visiting the sandman, she sometimes goes to the bathroom and runs her finger over the number, waiting. Debating. She wonders if Jade has trouble sleeping at night, like she did during her own pregnancy. Does Jesse aid her in this time? She can only imagine.

Today, she is putting her lipstick on when she sees it again, dangling on the edge of the glass. She has taken it down and rehung it so many times that the tape has worn down, and the paper threatens to fall off on its own, to be swept away and forgotten.

She pops the cap on her lipstick and sighs. She pulls the paper off again, wisps a hand through her hair, and crumples the paper in her hand, stuffing it in her pocket. She can hear her children in the background. She glances into the yard through her bathroom window, inhales deeply again, and takes the paper with her into the living room, where her phone lies on the couch, calling her. She picks it up, hands trembling. She wants to laugh at herself. There is no reason she should be nervous.

She can hear the twins laughing carelessly. It hurts. She longs for a friend. Jade could be the one she finally confides in, but she cannot know for sure, and should she somehow have another disastrous slip-up, the consequences would be terrible. She is so tired of being lonely, and now that she has finally cut Chucky out of her life, she realizes she really had never created friends with anyone else during their time together. Chucky had never really liked her having friends; he had told her he was the only one she'd ever need.

"Guess you didn't count on being out of the picture, huh, asshole?" she muses aloud, tapping in the numbers as she did. She sat against the couch cushions, digging in her purse for a lighter and a cigarette. She shouldn't be smoking. She should curb the habit. What if Jade did not like smoke? She definitely would not want it with her coming child - or even after the child was born. She shouldn't have smoked around her own kids. She'd read somewhere that it heightened their chances of being addicted as well, and their risk for cancer.

"Hello? Who is this?"

She almost hangs up. Jade's voice comes over so soft, so quaint. Tiffany drops her cigarette and curses under her breath. Jade speaks again, more concerned.

"Hello?"

"Jade," Tiffany finally stutters out, giving up on her smoke. The cigarette has bounced underneath the couch, and the lighter is somewhere in between her lap and the couch cushions. She huffs away from the phone, aggravated and anxious. It should not be so hard to make a simple phone call. But her hands shake nonetheless. "D-do you remember me?"

Pussy, she can hear Chucky saying. Why are you even bothering? You know bitches are never good company. Almost as if he were on the couch next to her, watcher her every move. Making her feel small. She wonders if he was so adamant to tear her down because he truly despised her, or because he felt so small himself. His significance was never something he seemed to complain about, but there were whispers in the things he said and did that sometimes had her up at night, wondering about him. Worrying for him.

Maybe, worse still, he just had never cared for her, other than an accessory. She pushes the feeling down, but from the beginning, she had always suspected he had never really loved her. More of the act of finally giving in to her persistent chasing. She doesn't know why she had always run after him and desired his companionship. Something about him, and his partner of the time, Caputo, screamed of a freedom and beyond that she longed for.

Something about Jade is equally enticing, in a different way. A more heartbreaking way.

"No, I'm sorry," Jade replies, the remorse apparent in her tone. "Your voice does sound familiar though."