When The Darkness Takes Us: Jess's Story

To Fix the Broken Chaos

A text from Travis.

"Call me right now."

He's never that demanding. He has his moments. If I really press him, he'll call me a fucking bitch and then usually apologizes ten minutes later. Sometimes I wonder if he just pulls out the aggression and calls me a bitch as some way to throw the brakes on my crazy train. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. But calling me a fucking bitch is out of character for him. It's his last resort when he can't get me to listen to him. He's not an aggressive man. He's not a direct man. He's not the sort of man who texts something like, "Call me right now."

I call him.

"Jess." He picks up on the first ring. Breathless. "Go outside. Go look on the front stoop."

"I'm not supposed to move. One of my ribs isn't healing right."

"Oh Jess! I shouldn't have come over last month. All that movement-"

"It's not your fault. I keep moving around. The doctor says I'm supposed to lay still."

"Linda's been taking care of you?"

"I'm trying not to bother her much."

"Hang on. I'll call you back."

"Okay."

He hangs up.

Barely two minutes later, there's a knock on my door.

"Come in."

Linda cracks the door open with a smirk on her face. Her blonde hair is piled atop her hair in a messy bun. "Someone sent you something," she says with a wink.

"Travis texted you?"

She enters the room and places a massive box on the bed beside me. She pushed a lock of hair out of my face. "When you gonna go home to that man already?"

"Never. I cheated on him. I don't deserve him."

She eases herself down with a groan and pulls a pack of Marlboros out of her red Tweety Bird hoodie. "You really cheated on him? Or nonsense on the internet cheated on him?"

"Same thing."

She shakes her head. "Not really."

"Don't minimize it," I sigh. "If you keep talking, I'll start to believe it wasn't that bad. Just because I really want to. Nobody wants to be the bad guy. I am though."

"So then become less of a bad guy."

Her words pluck at that taut strings in my core.

"He loves you and he won't stop from the looks of it. You said you don't deserve him. Maybe you don't. Become somebody who deserves him."

I chew my lip and watch her thump the pack of cigarettes into her open palm.

"Or," she adds with a shrug. "Keep being an asshole and go back to him as you are. Either one of those would hurt him less than what you're doing now."

"You're...completely right," I whisper.

"Of course I am. It's not rocket science. Instead of beating yourself up over what a shithead you are, try being less of a shithead."

I chuckle. "I mean...I guess. I feel so guilty though."

Linda's eyes flick to the phone in my hand. "You still..." she waves a hand in a circular motion, as if trying to conjure the words. "You still doing anything you should feel guilty about."

My cheeks flush. "No! I mean...well, I'm not sexting or sending nudes to anyone. I'm not crushing on anyone."

Linda squints up her eyes. Her mascara has crumbled and collects in the crow's feet. Somehow though, she's pretty despite her age and despite how well-worn she is. She's a woman who has seen a lot and been through a lot. It's written in every dark spot and crease. It's evident in the way she carries herself. And the way she's looking straight into me now.