Fleeting Fire

«C h a p t e r T h r e e»

     My head is throbbing with pain! I try to open my eyes but I'm too dizzy. My arm is dangiling over the edge of whatever I'm laying on. It's hard. The truck bed, I remember. I project more vomit just outside the bed onto the pool that is already beneath me. Beneath us. Scott is soothing me again. He keeps doing this; singing softly to me, removing the hair from my face, holding me tight though cradling my head, checking my eyes. Why does he keep doing that? Part of me doesn't mind since he is keeping me warm. Why hasn't Scott passed out yet? I can't speak to ask him. This is the fourth time I've woken up to do this as far as I can remember.
     Remember.....what all happened? I try to retain the information but the darkness swallows me in again.

     "I AIN'T GONNA SAY IT A FOURTH TIME!" The angry voice is ringing in my ears. The accent in his voice loud and clearly states it's not Scott's. "GET YOUR DAMN TRUCK OFF MY FIELD!" I jolt up straight, dizzy and my head is pounding, but thankfully no more vomit. Where is Scott? I rub my eyes as I search; he is right behind me. The middle-aged man is getting nearer. I nudge him.
     "Scott." I warn him, no budge. "Scotty!" I shout, worried what the farmer will do if he doesn't wake.
     Scott jolts up just as dazed and confused as I was thirty seconds ago. "Huh? Are you okay?" His voice is low and raspy this morning.
     I can't help but smile as I point out the beat-red-faced farmer to him. The sun is rising all around him and his bushy brown beard.
     "We were just leaving," Scott is quicker to his feet than I am. He helps me down and into the passenger seat.
     "Yeah, you better be I got work to do." The man turns around to go back on his agricultural machine.
     Scott climbs into the truck, turns it on, and drives off with ease.
     "It wasn't as simple last night." Scott smiles to himself.
     Not knowing what to say, I nod. My memory of all that happened last night isn't piecing together. Party. Scott. Too much alcohol. The thought makes me gag.
     "How are you feeling?" He is concerned for me still. What happened?
     I nod again as a response. Cops. Inhaler. Kissing. Wait, did we-I stop my thoughts. My mind must be mistaken..a kiss is hard to believe let alone that. I can't recall anything after besides the vomit and this constant reminder of my head throbbing and spinning. Automatically, I place my hand to where it hurts the most. There is a lump on my head. Did I fall? I wish I could remember.
     We pull up to Veronica and Eric's house, where there is nothing but a deserted litter display.
     "Where did everyone go?" He takes my thoughts. "Hold on, look for a black cord."
     It's underneath me, I seen it as he assisted me inside. I hand it to him.
     "It's my charger. Thanks."
     I smile at him but not with my teeth.
     "Speak, Jolene. Please. I need to know how bad you're hurting."
     "My head is pounding. It hurts to speak." My voice cracks between sentences. Ouch.
     Plugging in his phone, he says, "we need to get you checked out."
     Did I hear him correctly? "Did I fall?" I take my other hand and place it on the front of my head to check for bumps.
     Scott repeatedly pushes his power button. "We gotta go." He didn't answer my question. The phone pings on.
     "I need to call James."
     "Who is James?" His tone doesn't sound too pleased.
     "James is Jamie," I croak.
     "Good. I need to use it first, though."
     Did he just say good? As in, he's glad? My lips curl at the thought. Wait, what happened last night? I gotta ask, "Did we have sex last night?" Sex. The word sounds foreign coming out of my mouth.
     "What? No!" He is quick to answer me, just how he did Wrigley last night. Wrigley? I'm remembering a little! I smile at my memory. He jerks the wheel to a hard left.
     "Hello?" I hadn't realized he was on the phone. I hear yelling from the other end. Oh, my head. The yelling stops. He hands me the phone.
     "I gotta swing by Ryan's."
     "Who is that?"
     "The owner of this truck." Scott sighs.
     I dial Jamie's number, it goes to voicemail instantly. I try mine. Please pick up.
     "Hello?" It's Jamie.
     "James, hi-"
     "Oh no you don't. Where did you go? I almost went to jail last night! Luckily I didn't get reckless like you so I was allowed to drive home."
     "Jamie-" she cuts me off.
     "I looked all over for you. Are you with Scott?"
     "How did you know his name?"
     "COME ON." Jamie shouts. Her voice echoes through my eardrums. "Kevin, hello! So you are with him?"
     "Yes and no we didn't and can you keep it down?" I cough, "my head is killing me."
     This causes Scott to look away from the road and at me. I hadn't realized I was staring at him until now. I smirk and signal my hand to the road.
     "Keep it down?" She isn't complying, "I am so ticked off at you! You didn't have your phone it was in my car-" I cut her off this time.
     "I am sorry I never should have gotten this messed up but I'm paying for it now." I am still staring at Scott to make sure he keeps his eyes where they need to be. His eyes have bags underneath them. "Trust me."
     "Well when will you be here? I need to talk to you about Ty.." Jamie leaves her sentence incomplete. Her mind is always everywhere.
     "It won't be for a while I-" crap. I don't want to tell her that I'm going to the doctors or even worse; a hospital.      "I am running errands with Scott for a little while."
     "Oh?" Jamie sounds intrigued through the phone line.
Scott scratches his 5'o'clock shadow. It makes him look older. Like a whole different Scott. Me likey-Jamie mocks my mind. Double crap.. what is with me? I gotta listen.
     "Is something going on with you, Jolene? This isn't very 'you'." I have to admit she's right. If it were truly me I would currently be over at Jamie's house watching Netflix with no hangover. "Well, I guess I can tell you over the phone...Ty was the one who called the cops. I woke up to my phone ringing and several voicemails, all from him." She inhales, "I'm so pissed."
     "What? I can't believe him. What an ass, especially since he brought a girl of his own."
     Scott is holding out his hand. I try to place it in his but he jerks away. He wants the phone, not me.
     "Jamie I gotta go, but tell me all about it when I get back."
     "Well call your phone if you need me. Jerk won't quit calling mine so it's off."
     I hang up the phone and hand it to him.
     "No bye?" Scott shakes his head. "That's a little rude, don't cha think?"
     "No, actually I believe it's quite the opposite." I won't explain any further but I don't have to. He is already on the phone again. Busy.
     "What time are you out today...damn I mean shoot, sorry. Can you come to the house then? I won't be there in time...I know it'll cost me but it's worth the drive....no he's fine it's somebody else....just do it, please." He hangs up the phone again.
     "No bye?" I smirk at him.
     "I was recently told it isn't polite." He takes another hard turn, a right this time.
     "It actually sounds harsher coming from your mouth." He doesn't respond to my comment. "And you're not going to ask why?" Did I just think that out loud? I'm must be impressed. Everyone has a problem with my no-goodbye-zone.
     "Would you tell me if I had?" He sounds annoyed.
     "Well no, but-"
     "Then why ask me why I haven't asked?" He raises his voice. My head responds negatively.
     "Sorry I honestly didn't mean to say that out loud." I feel like an imbecile. It shuts his up but my comment makes his eyes change from annoyed to sad.
     We drive in silence for the next half hour. How far away is Ryan's place? I'm careful to keep my eyes facing the mountains and my thoughts quiet, I don't wish to share them with him by mistake again. I've used most of this time to gather up all the events of the previous evening in my mind. The kiss, however, doesn't seem to be real although my lips tingle whenever I think about it. I remember what happened and the way he looked at me and the way his eyes disappeared as they became stars in the night. My head throbs knowingly at what happened. I've only been drunk enough to blackout only once before so I know this is more than just your average hangover. It all makes sense now.
    "You threw me!?" I shout, ignoring the nuclear bombs I've caused in my head.
     Scott slows down the truck but doesn't stop it. I want out of this car. Right now. I can't look at him, how could he? To a stranger? He turns right once more into a driveway.
     "Get out and wait over there," he points to the back porch. Scott slams the door and walks towards the house. I'm glad he's done helping me. I don't want nor need his help. Not defending the accusation makes him guilty. Where's that phone? I'm going home. Shit, he took it with him.
     In all courtesy to Scott, I start walking home. I don't know where I am or how to get where I'm going but I'm not going to wait on someone who threw me like a rag doll. Tears sting in my eyes, I'm not looking back, don't look back, I tell myself. How could this happen? It would be too soon if I ever see Scott Getrell again.
     I see countless vehicles passing in just a matter of minutes. It's a busy country road. They never stop, which is fine by me but I'd secretly like a phone to use. A motorcyclist slows down and gestures me a ride with a helmet in hand. Why not? They can take me to a phone. I'm just so angry I don't know what to do with myself. I hop on without the helmet, though they won't go until I put it on. I wipe away my few tears, clip on the helmet and we're off.
     I have no desire to meet anyone else that is new and potentially dangerous, but I feel safe wrapped around this person. Their figure makes me assume it's a man, but I could be wrong. Baby hairs keep blowing in my tear-stained face through this helmet. I remove my hand to move it away from my face. The driver jerks to another lane, flying through the little traffic stops. We pass a gas station, assuming they'd stop but the bike keeps going. Maybe I should tell this person where I live so I can go home. Is Scott looking for me? I can't help the thought. Why do I care what that abusive psycho thief is doing? I place my hands back around their stomach. Their leather jacket makes me want mine-but it's in Jamie's car still. I sigh to myself.
"Where are we going?" I ask the driver. I wait and ask again. Still no response. What have I done? I'm going to get killed. I shouldn't have done this without seeing the motorcyclists face at least. Okay, I care now.
     This would be a moment in time where most would pray to God. I don't pray and even this wouldn't get me to. There is no point. He doesn't exist.
     The bike turns sharply, making me squeeze them harder. The person has a strong body...whoever is under that helmet. I wish I could see their face how you can see mine.
     Another sharp turn. I close my eyes as I hang on. This must be a winding road.
     After what seems like an eternity, the rider begins to slow their speed. I've got a good idea where to go if need be; my anxiety won't let me settle for less.  A hidden driveway? This looks like a place to get raped. Crap. I'll run for the trees, I'll steal the bike. I need out of here.
    The motorcycle slows down more, closing into an open field of sorts. My heart races as I try to find another exit. Anything. Running is out, my mind mocks me. Fuck, watch me!
     The bike hasn't even stopped yet; I tumble out, not caring of the outcome as the red bike fades from my peripheral vision. AGHH! My ankle! I didn't think this through. Now I can't run. I'll limp. Or crawl. I need help! The bike skids to a stop. The driver is running towards me. Most definitely a male, my eyes make out. I stand, forcing my pain aside and sprint down the winding driveway. Anything to escape the masked man. The trees are getting closer, I can get away! My foot feels wet. Blood? No time to care.
     The air escapes my mouth in a scream as I fall. My head is exploding, my heart is beating out of my chest, and now my ankle hurts. Punch him! My mind is in overdrive. My vision is blurred. I yell once more as the cyclist lifts off his helmet and I swing, knocking him off of me to the ground. I hear tires turning in the driveway, another car! Yes!
     I screech at the top of my lungs as I struggle to stand and wave my arms. It hurts tremendously to stand straight. The gray SUV halts as a woman gets out. A woman!! My mind is giddy with glee. A sweeping of my body occurs. The man. I scream as she runs towards me.
     "Scott, let her down!" The woman begs. Scott? No way. I look up at him. The man cradling me is most definitely him, but with a bloody nose. Crap. His eyes make contact with mine. Furious doesn't begin to cover what I see in them. He has black ear buds in his ears with a cord attached...the music explains why he didn't answer me. I'm so, so, SO stupid!
     Scott sets me down easy but quickly backs away. "Take her, please!" His voice doesn't sound angry to match his eyes. Did I scare him? Double crap. He mumbles something about psychopaths, I wonder if he is speaking about me. Well, of course he is, my mind battles me.
     "Ma'am, are you alright?" I place my hands in front of me, I don't want her any closer.
     "Who are you?" She ignores my gesture and goes straight for Jamie's boots. She reveals my bloody sock and moves my ankle in the process. I bite my lip in pain.
     "My name is Doctor Credel, but you can call me Anita." Her dark skin is warm but that doesn't make her touch hurt any less. "Scott, what happened?"
     "Ask her." He's pacing back and forth, back and forth with his hands pulling his short hair on the top of his head.
     "Stop that." I order him. He won't listen. His face red and drenched with sweat. Is he okay? My conscience drowns me with feelings I shouldn't care about. He threw me. I'm supposed to hate him, not be concerned.
     "Ma'am," Anita takes my attention back where it's supposed to be-my ankle.
     "Jolene," I might as well tell her.
     "What all happened here?" She persists.
     Well, let's see. I made this guy get drunk with me and it was actually kind of fun although nerve-wrecking and we maybe kind of shared a kiss and he threw me without apologizing.
     "Ma'am, your ankle?"
     Oh. yeah, the part where I LEFT this psycho and he offered me a ride, failing to show his face thus making me believe I was about to be raped..so I hopped off. I shake my head at her, there is nothing to say to make me sound sane. There is no point. Tears spring from my eyes again.
     "Jo-Jolene, where all does it hurt?" She's waiting on an answer but I'm not sure how to give her one.
     My ankle nor my head isn't why I'm crying. It's the other part of me that hurts..my heart. I don't get why I'm crying over it right now, though. My heart always hurts. I look up at the sun which never seems to shine as bright since he left this world.
     I don't wish to be examined, but I know that's what Jack would want. I miss you too much why aren't you here; my mind is a constant state of exulansis. More tears come flowing down. Jack, my heart is always breaking but this is a different feeling that I can't explain. I look back to Scott and his rut he's made into the ground. I wish he'd stop so I couldn't care about him.
     "What's going on out here?" A deep voice speaks. There is no anxiety, no turning around..I am too broken up right now to be polite. I don't need to move because after a minute, the man comes to me.
     "Would you like to come inside for some coffee?" The man's eyes are aged, though he couldn't be over fifty.
     I nod my head, just away from here..
     "Mr.Gettrell, I strongly advise-"
     The man offers my hand, I take it, "what? For her not to have some coffee, now?" He grumbles.
     "No, that she not be moved but since she's already standing," she sighs, "I don't see why not." Anita stands, "Scott, can you come to my SUV for a moment?"
     Scott stops pacing and follows her. Although, one hand is still stressing his scalp.
     "Dear, what's your name? Do you like your coffee black?" The man speaks again.
     "I'm Jolene. And if you have liquid cream or milk that would be great." I sniffle. He brings an overwhelmingly sense of calm with his words as he speaks to me.
     "Jolene." He pauses to scratch his chin. "That's a nice name though not too common anymore. We have milk. I am Rick, Scott's dad in case you didn't know." I take a closer look at his full face and graying hair...Scott must take more after his mother.
     I take off my bloody gravel ridden socks as I hobble inside the old brick house. If it wasn't for him calming me down I would leave. Am I in Scott Gettrell's kitchen? Does he live here? I roll my eyes at my subconscious mind who is taking notes inside her room. Who cares? Not me. I'm in the same room with the abusers father. What is wrong with my mind?
     Scott's dad chuckles, "so what brings you here in such a state, Jolene? Not trying to intrude, I just want to get to know Scott's newest girlfriend."
     Newest? "He does this often?" Is all I can say.
     "I'm only kidding. That boy has never brought anyone home." He coughs, "I'm just trying to figure out why you're so special."
     The comment makes me blush unexpectedly. Scott's dad laughs again as he hands me a cup of coffee. I take a sip. It must be a week old. Gross.
I limp over to the sink and begin to empty the cup. "You make terrible coffee."
     "I don't drink coffee." My comment doesn't affect him. Rick is such a smiley guy. I don't get it. I smirk back at him.
     Anita and Scott enter the kitchen and see my emptied cup of coffee. Scott smiles with a bloody tissue in hand as Anita shakes her head.
     "You can't poison her, dad." Scott takes the coffee pot off the holster and dumps it.
     "Now, that's just plain rude." Ricks eyes are wide with humor.
     Scott response is making more coffee. I can't help but giggle quietly at the two. It makes me miss my father. He has been gone for so long now I only have a few faded memories.
     "Jolene can you sit on the couch please so I can examine your ankle and head?" Anita interrupts my thoughts.
     "Why, I'm standing, right?" I tease.
     Her lips fold into a hard line. I forgot she doesn't know my sarcastic personality. Whoops.
     Rick bursts into laughter, "I like her, can we keep her?" His laughing is stopped by coughing.
     "Rick sit over there and take your breathing treatment." Her soulful eyes meet mine, "ignore Scott's father."
     "Yeah, he's just a crazy old man," Scott relaxes next to him as though our situation happened months ago. I don't understand his mood swings...or is this a front?
     Anita takes her black leather bag and places it on the couch next to me. She brought the whole package; I see syringes, stethoscopes, medicines. She opts for that ear light contraption.
     As she checks my insides, I take the opportunity to observe the room. The Gettrells have a really nice home, the ceiling in this room must be almost twenty feet high with a stone fireplace to match. The carpeting in here is nearly new, and this tan sectional is overbearingly comfortable! The feeling is a little too rustic for most but I don't have a preference. The skylight shines down on all of us.
     "Do you like it?" Scott's face is no longer red. I can play forgetful, too.
     "Like it I love it!" It truly is a beautiful home.
     "It seems as though you bumped your head pretty well."Anita announces as if it was the holy grail of statements...like I didn't already know. "You have a concussion. You need surveillance up to the 24 hour mark on when this happened." When I don't respond she asks the fateful question, "What happened?"
     My eyes meet Scott's, but only for a brief moment. I'm still so, so mad at him right now. I don't understand why he is being kind to me and what all happened.
     "I fell off the bed." I lie. She, Scott, and Rick all share the same wide-eyed reaction. Crap. Not that type of bed! My face turns red at the thought. "No!" I'm try quickly to recover my statement but their expressions remain. "A truck bed. Scott and I were up there-" I pause for the briefest moment, doing what? My mind barks at me.
     "Listening to music but Jolene happens to hate country music so she tried to change it." Scott adds to my terrible lie. I nod to support him. "She tripped on the extension cord on the way back and it knocked her out."
     "Please tell me you didn't let her sleep.." Anita sounds angry, but her eyeballs are back in socket.
     "I checked on her every hour, Anita, promise." The sincerity of his statement beguiles me.
     I nod once more in agreement. Anita moves her hands down to my ankle. I flinch and grit my teeth in pain.
     "Hold still," she muffles.
     "It's hard." Not only does it hurt I hate being touched in general.
     "So how did this happen."
     "I fell off Scott's bike."
     "That's not all."
     "I'd rather not say," it's too embarrassing, especially now since I acted out in a concussed state. I yelp over the stinging sensation on my heel and ankle.
     "This is quite a cut. I believe you hit a rock on your way down."
     I look at my bloody cut for the first time. It is shaped like a big crescent moon or half of an ankle bracelet. It's deep. This better not leave a scar. I watch as Anita puts another cream on my injury, careful not to move at her touch.
     "How does that feel?"
     "Actually okay," I tell the truth this time. It's tingling but not burning anymore.
     "I numbed the area. It needs stitches. Are you okay with needles?"
     No...who is, I want to snark at her. "Can you put me out?"
     This causes Anita to laugh softly. An evil soft laugh if you ask me. "Unfortunately you have to stay awake. I need to know if you are experiencing any unusual pain in the process, you won't feel a thing."
     "I'm not gonna look." Am I agreeing to this?
     "Watching is the best part!" Scott chimes in. Of course the abuser would like watching me suffer.
     "I need something to distract me. I'm not watching." My eyes search for Scott's since I discovered he wasn't a random bad biker. He folds his lips to hide a smile as his meet mine.
     Scott stands up and leaves the room and comes back a moment later with a guitar.
     "You play?"
     "No." He hands the six string to Rick and walks out of the room.
     "I do." He removes the treatment mask and begins to strum away.
     I watch as Rick gets lost in his own tune. His melody is smooth and calming. After a minute or so a new sound overcomes my eardrums, Scott? I look over and a piano is now in the room. Scott takes a seat and inhales deeply as he harmonizes with his dad's guitar. I watch in awe at the two of them. I start to feel a tugging sensation near my wound. This is the distraction. I keep my eyes away from the graphic sight. It's probably best this way. They finish once Anita gives the go ahead. I wasn't done listening, I clap for them anyway.
     "You should be all set to go, Jolene. Just keep this wrap on for a few days. Don't get it wet."
     "So no showering?"
     "You can take a bath and let it hang. I don't trust the bags."
     And that's it. She moves away from me to check on Rick and Scott once more and she leaves. Didn't bother asking if I had any more questions like I've been through this spewd before.
     "Let's take you home." Scott declares. I frown at him. Yes, I'm still furious at him but I don't necessarily want to leave right now.
     I stand up all on my own and limp to the door, not bothering to say goodbye to Rick. I do look back at him though, he nods once at me. I nod back. That I can manage.
     The bike is still across the yard laying on its side. I cringe at the distance as I hobble my way over there. An engine roars behind us. I look back. Scott is not with me. A blue truck rolls forward with him in it.
     "Get in." He sounds angry. Again.
     I oblige and strap myself in. He floors it down the driveway before I'm buckled.
     "Why did you do that?" His forehead pops a vain when he yells. He's furious.
     "I'm sorry." Is all I can say. I look away from him and out my rear view window.
     Scott sighs and slows down to ten miles over the speed limit. "That's not going to work," his callused hands grip the steering wheel tighter." That's not good enough."
     "I acted crazy over a concussion that YOU caused. Am I even going to get an explanation?" I bite down on my lip as I prepare for him to speed again. He does the opposite. My seat belt plunges forward along with myself as he stomps on the breaks.
    "You're right." He whispers as his hurt eyes find mine. "This ends now."
     "What is ending?" I'm so confused. Is he talking about us?
     "Stop that." He reaches out to pull my lip out of my mouth but withdraws and eyes it instead.
     The smallest of smirks perks form on my lips as my teeth loosen their hold. No, you're not seriously considering you were an us to someone? Someone who threw you...and like that fact? I mute my mind. She has a concussion, after all.
     "So we agree then?" Scott seems to question his words. His brows are furrowed and he won't look at me.
     "I'm not even sure what all happened honestly. I'm willing to forget about everything if you are," I lie. My conscience is pounding at the door muffling through the zipper she's now equipped with.
     With a smaller sigh, Scott turns up the station volume although the melody is soft. There is no use for any more contentious conversation so I lean against the window, curl my feet up and try to sleep. I know it's gonna be a while.

    I wake to a roaring semi starting up. We're at the gas station near my house. I peep outside and watch as Scott walks back to the truck. This is the last time I'll ever see him. I can't help my thoughts. I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad about it. Do I even want to see him again? I better decide. Scott shuts the door quietly and starts up the vehicle. I reposition myself so I'm laying on him; I question every second of it but for some reason I just want to. I know it won't be for long. I feel his stomach clench as he whispers my name. I won't answer him. I don't know how. He drives off anyway, with my head on his lap and my legs sprawled out every which way. It's surprisingly comfortable. He relaxes his body after a minute and places his hand on my hip. If only it could be this easy. I'm too stubborn for it to ever be. I move my head against him to show him it's okay. I feel the instant tension on his body again. His hand even left my side. I understand why he threw me. He doesn't want me touching him. Even if he wanted me, it would never work...we simply couldn't work.