Good Love

“Jared!” Annie screamed, piercing the silence of their apartment. “There is a goddamn scorpion in the bathroom!”

She’d been in the process of taking another shower -Jared had noticed that his sister had been showering a lot, recently, which was worrying him a little- when she saw a scorpion crawling around in the bottom of the bathtub. Thankfully, she hadn’t undressed yet, because there was no way in hell she would go near that bug.

She stood as far as she could away from the tub as she heard Jared’s footsteps getting closer.

Annie heard the doorknob twitch, and then, “Annie, are you decent?”

“Yes, Jare, come in,” she said, briefly missing her bathroom back in Chicago.

The wooden door was pushed open to reveal her brother, tall and broad-shouldered and, of course, red-headed. She was absentmindedly wondering why her older brother had gotten a carrot top and why she didn’t. She’d heard all kinds of “ginger” jokes in high school, but she didn’t think it’d be so bad to have red hair. Part of her wished she inherited red hair, too.

“Where’s it at, sis?” Jared asked, looking at the floor around his feet.

Annie raised her hand and pointed to the bathtub, suddenly feeling too tired to speak. She’d been feeling like that a lot, lately. The only things she found appealing were taking long scalding-hot showers and sleeping. She could blame it on jet lag or nightmares or anything the tiniest bit plausible, but she knew none of those were the case. She was scared to walk down the street, she was scared to look at her phone, and, hell, she was scared to even step foot out of the apartment in general. Her walk with Tessa four days ago was the first and only time she’d gone outside so far.

Annie felt so weak and childish as she watched Jared grab the fly swatter from underneath the counter and smash the scorpion, thinking she should at least have the courage to kill a tiny bug. Even if it was a deadly bug. Of all things that could hurt her, a bug could not be one of them, right?

As Jared turned on the faucet to wash the dismembered remnants of the bug down the drain, he said, “Sometimes we get bugs that crawl up the drain and get into the shower. If I’m not home, just use this,” -he raised the fly-swatter- “okay? Most of the time it’s just crickets or little spiders. Don’t worry about the scorpions, Ann.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, but her ugly thoughts stayed as she thanked Jared and locked the door behind him when he left.

She slowly undressed herself, wincing as material pushed over the bruises on her shoulders and forearms. Then, bare naked, she stared at herself in the mirror for the first time.

There were so many bruises. They were blue-purple-yellow splotches peppering her body like unwanted birthmarks. The ones on her arms weren’t the biggest, but they were the most noticeable. Her shoulders were varying shades of purple; the worst. She raised a hand and traced the outlines of each bruise -the shape of someone’s hand as they held her down, trapped. Hesitantly, she pressed onto one of the bruises with her forefinger, softly. The pain was tolerable, at first, so she pressed harder, yelping when a ripple of pain shot through her arm and spine, lasting only a few seconds but leaving an exhausting ache. No wonder she felt so tired.

Letting out a slow, rugged breath, her eyes traveled down her reflection. Her breasts were purple and sore, still. Her ribcage wasn’t as bruised as it had been when she’d first arrived, but it hurt just as bad. There weren’t any bruises on her stomach, but the innermost part of her thighs screamed at her to just sit down. Sit down. Go to sleep. Give up. Just give up.

Feeling tears burning behind her eyes, she whirled around and turned the shower on, waiting for the steaming water to engulf her.

Seeking the safety of the shower, she felt the courage to look at her legs, turning pink from the heat. There was an ugly bruise on one knee, and of course her inner thighs, but other than that: nothing. She felt the tiniest bit relieved. She could cover most of the bruises up. She didn’t care if she had to wear a sweater when it was sixty degrees out; covering up meant less questions, and less questions meant normal. Being normal felt like a novelty, now.

Annie went through the mechanical motions of washing; massaging her scalp, scrubbing her soiled skin. When she was done, she stepped out of the shower and sat down on the tile, feeling light-headed like she did every time she stayed in the shower for too long.

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, gripping the places it didn’t hurt, wanting to lie down but knowing she couldn’t.

Finally, she stood up. She opened her eyes, looking for color in her pale cheeks in the mirror. Shaking her head, she didn’t think she belonged here. Not in the place where the summer lasts forever. Annie was the embodiment of winter; icy blonde hair, chocolate eyes, pale skin. No, she thought. Maybe she did belong here. The winter -Chicago- had been so cold it had frozen her solid. Maybe, if she sat in the sun for long enough, she could thaw herself out.

***

Sitting at the bar, Annie groaned loudly, frustrated with her phone. It’d been ringing non-stop all day. The part that irritated her the most was that it wasn’t even her brother or Tessa or Macy, it was an unknown number.

An unknown number. There was no way in hell she’d be accepting that call anytime soon. Normally, she’d just turn her phone off, but she was at a bar. Annie might have been fierce, but not fierce enough to lose her connection with her brother.

Jared had been nagging her all day to “face her fears” and get out of the house. He hadn’t exactly jumped at the idea of his baby sister going to a bar alone, but Annie was in desperate need of a drink or two, and Jared had other plans he was obliged to go to.

So here she was. Sitting by herself on a barstool, half-watching a football game on a television screen above her and half-wanting to go home. But part of her felt a little more at home here in Tempe, now that she’d found a decent hangout place. The bar was little dingy, but didn’t have too many people. There was a group of girls standing against the far wall, laughing loudly at some guys swearing at each other over a game of pool. There was the occasional couple of friends that would come and go just as fast, but for the most part, Annie felt alone, which was just how she liked it.

The lighting was dim, which she was thankful for. The bruises along her arms were much less visible. She closed her eyes and inhaled, the sweet scent of cigarette smoke filling her nostrils.

Feeling upset, she called out, “Hey bartender, where’s that drink I asked for?”

The young man snapped his head up, heading over from the opposite end of the bar. “Sorry, miss. I didn’t remember you asking for another drink?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Can I have a glass of Jack, please?”

He gave her a look before reaching under the table for a bottle and pouring it into a glass for her.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip and feeling the cool liquid burn down her throat. “I’ll, um, start a tab?”

The bartender, whose name-tag read Stephen, smiled. “Plan on coming back and keeping me company again?” he said, laughing a little and adding her tab.

Despite her mood, she smiled back at him. “Of course. You’re the sole bartender of this building,” she said lightly, taking another sip of her drink.

He nodded, his black hair falling in front of his eyes. “Yeah, we don’t get too many customers on this side of town. They mainly head downtown these days.”

Annie shrugged. “It’s sorta cozy here. I mean, for a bar and everything. It’s nice to not have so many people.”

Stephen scoffed a little but smiled, saying, “Yeah, but you aren’t the one relying on this place’s income.”

“Hmm. True. So -” she started, but was cut off by her phone vibrating loudly on the counter next to her. “Goddammit,” she swore.

Impulsively, Annie picked up her phone and dropped it straight into her cup of Jack, the golden liquid splashing up from the swift movement.

“Jesus! Why’d you do that?” Stephen asked, his eyes widening. “That thing looked expensive!”

She let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, not anymore.”

“Obsessive ex-boyfriend?” A voice asked from behind her, letting out a throaty chuckle. She turned around, automatically tensing.

A tall, brown-haired guy sat down on a stool to her left. He was skinny and lanky and had a leather jacket over a thin, white V-neck.

“Excuse me?” Annie asked, debating on scooting onto a barstool to her right, away from the boy.

“Your phone. You dropped it in your drink. On purpose,” he said, asking Stephen for a drink.

“And?” she drawled, instantly hating the guy’s presumptuous tone of voice.

“And I’ve only ever done that once, when one of my exes kept calling me. So, I asked if it was a boyfriend that made you mad enough to wreck your phone. Unless, of course, you’re a lesbian and your ex-girlfriend keeps calling.” He smirked. Annie was already starting to dislike the boy; the way he said one of my exes like he’d had so many, and the way he’d already assumed he knew her.

Annie pursed her lips and waited a few seconds before replying. “Even if I did have a girlfriend, there’d be nothing wrong with that, you know.”

He laughed. “‘Course not, babe. I mean, just take it from Stephen, here. He’s been gay for six years and it’s done him wonders.”

“Hey!” Stephen protested but laughed. “I am not.”

The unnamed boy chucked again, returning his hazel gaze to Annie. “But from your expression, I’m pretty sure it was a boyfriend.”

“I wish,” she snapped. Annie was good at reading people and always had been; the aura he was putting off right now spelled arrogance and recklessness.

This time the boy didn’t have another cocky remark to shoot, which made Annie want to smirk. He simply raised his eyebrows at her briefly and dropped his gaze to his drink.

“Stephen, can I get another drink, please?” she asked, feeling his presence oddly comforting. He seemed like the kind of guy Annie would become friends with, even if she’d only met him less than an hour ago.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he replied, pouring her a second glass and pushing it across the counter to her.

After a few minutes, the boy next to her said, “You’re the first girl I’ve ever seen drinking Jack Daniels at a bar.”

“Wow. You must not get out much.”

“Hey, I said at a bar, darlin’. That doesn’t include parties,” he smirked. “Most girls at bars drink girly, fruity things. But not you.”

Annie sighed. “What’s your point?”

He looked at her, flicking a brown cowlick of hair away from his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead shut it. A second later, he spoke up with, “So you live around here, I take it? The only people who come here during the week are the ones who live close.”

She pursed her lips again; she didn’t want to tell this stranger where she lived. But then again, he seemed nothing like the man from Chicago, the one who was responsible for the bruises covering her body. The man sitting next to her might have been cocky and overconfident, but he wasn’t over-charming, the way that monster had been.

“Yeah, I live down the road a little ways. And you? You must live here, too,” she said softly.

“You’re correct, miss, I happen to live just down the street, too,” he smiled, showing off a set of perfect white teeth. “But at the moment, I’ve been staying with a friend. My roommate’s sister flew in and I figured I’d give her some time to get settled. You know, I haven’t caught your name, yet,” he said quickly, his words running together. Whether it was an effect of the alcohol or just habit, Annie couldn’t tell.

“Hmm. I haven’t caught yours either,” Annie said, smirking because she’d deliberately avoided the underlying question. Though what he’d said about his roommate and his sister sparked her interest because she was in such a similar situation, she chose to ignore it.

“So you’re one of those smart-asses, huh?” he laughed a little, standing up from his seat on the bar. He now towered over Annie, smelling of cologne and smoke. He grabbed his drink from the counter, tipping his head back and downing it. When he finished it, he loudly placed it back onto the counter, where Stephen grabbed it and thanked him for coming.

Finally, he said, “My name’s John,” smiled crookedly, and walked out the door.