Rules of Escape

Chapter 41 - Jesse

"So, here's what I'm thinking," Jesse says as he paces his bedroom. "We get your abilities up to speed and teach the others how to play poker. We could clean up at the casinos. See where I'm going?"

"Really, Jesse?" Ro replies.

"Why not? The home needs more money, right? The residents don't get much from their disability cheques. The only thing keeping your home afloat is near-free rent from Joe and food from the gardens. It's great that you can use some of the land Sandeep's family bought, but you need money to do anything with it."

"You're right, there. But it's dishonest. Eventually, people will know and then what? They could be charged. I could go to jail."

"So we keep it quiet. Or maybe... you could be part of the secret services. You know, work for the government. Or maybe... I could write a book. Or you could write a book, a best seller, and you'd all be famous."

Ro laughs. "Oh Jesse. Come back to bed, you dreamer." Ro stretches out on the bed, her tattoos a tapestry on her muscular body.

Seeing her like this, muddles Jesse's mind. Ro is unlike any other woman he has ever desired. And now that she is more at ease, taking the weekend off to spend with him, her psychological strength is returning. She stretches and her arm and leg muscles go taut. Even her stomach ripples with strength. Relaxing, she turns onto her side, unconsciously showing her soft, feminine curves. She is yin and yang.

Jesse reaches up and pats the ceiling beam. He has been working out since meeting Ro, going for runs, and eating well. His body is changing, becoming a bit more like it used to be when he was in his twenties. He touches his own stomach and is pleased to feel the results his efforts, the washboard effect. He is glad the girls are camping with their grandparents for the weekend.

"Can you read my mind?" Jesse asks.

Ro laughs. "I think I can guess what you're thinking."

Jesse lies down beside Ro. "Really though, can you read my mind?"

Ro is quiet for a moment, looking at the bed sheets. "I'm sorry, Jesse. I get nothing. I hear nothing from you."

"Maybe if we put our heads together?"

"It's not like that," Ro says, with a twisted half-smile. "But maybe it's better this way. I want to see you say my name. I want to feel your chest move when you talk to me."

"Ro," Jesse breathes. "I didn't think I'd ever feel this way again."

"Saying it makes it more real somehow, don't you think?"

"Well, I don't know any different," Jesse says, kissing Ro's neck.

"I wish I wasn't like them. It's messed me up."

Jesse looks at Ro. "What do you mean?"

"The first time I heard someone... it was my daughter. She called, 'Mama! I hot!' I heard her through the walls of a concrete building, from across a campus. I was at school and she was with a babysitter. I thought it was my imagination."

"What happened?" Jesse tenses. Ro has never mentioned her daughter to him.

"She died of heat stroke. The sitter left my baby in a car, while she stood a few feet away, talking with a friend. She thought my daughter was sleeping. I was writing a final exam, trying so hard to get a good mark. I was the last one to leave the classroom. The sitter and my daughter were there to pick me up. "

"God Ro. I'm so sorry."

"It was more than ten years ago. I'm okay, really." Ro turns to Jesse, her lips searching for his. "She was two and her name was Belle. Stupid name, right? But to me, she looked so beautiful. Like an angel."

"Belle's a beautiful name."

"My love for her made me weak. I started questioning myself. I ignored what I heard - felt scared by her voice, her pain. I should have listened to her. I should have trusted my instincts."

"You didn't know. It wasn't your fault."

"I did know. That's the thing," Ro replies, her eyes downcast. "That's why I need to stay alert ... stay watchful and committed to the residents at Joe's. I want to make them a home ... one that my daughter would have loved and been safe in." Ro moves closer to Jesse and whispers, "Why do I tell you all this shit? You know too much about me. I don't want to trust, or love, or want anyone. But you, you make me feel... well, that's just it. You make me feel I do...want... and I hate it. See how messed up I am?"

Jesse wraps his arms around Ro. Her eyes are lined with sadness. "You're safe with me, always," he says.

Jesse closes his eyes as he kisses Ro and feels a drop of wetness on her cheek. He wishes he could take away her pain. It makes more sense now, why she wants so badly to help Evan and his friends. She really does get them. And she feels guilty.

Guilt – worse than fear or anger or hate, although often disguised as these emotions, guilt is unquenchable. It grows; it magnifies and distorts reality. It creeps up from behind and suffocates its victims when they are weakened by joy. It creeps around in the shadows of the brightest days, thriving on garbage and baggage. It cannot be extinguished or ignored, because it is always attached, like a leach, to its victim. It is a ball and chain that grows, ever so slowly, heavier and more determined, sinking deep into the darkest clouds and dragging its prisoners with it. Guilt is an emotion Jesse knows all too well.

"You've done your time, Ro," Jesse says, softly. "Just cry and let me hold you. Cry until you have no more tears."

And one day, Jesse thinks, I hope you forgive yourself because that's the only way to truly escape Guilt.