Facade

Jarod Jordan

“Why’re you such a cold fuckin’ bitch? Doesn’t this hurt? Doesn’t this mess with your head, your heart? Anything?”

The words sprayed a venomous cloud into the air, but their ill-intent denatured and unraveled

into wisps of useless sound. She sat, legs crossed, fingers steepled, eyes refined to slits that could slice steel. The man continued to fire off a volley of pointless insults, his salt-and-pepper chin chewing and grinding each word into the space between them.

“I just don’t get it. You’re some piece of work. I don’t understand—”

“I’m not asking for understanding, Allan. I’m asking you to leave.”

“Just like that? I make one mistake; don’t follow

one of your fucking rules, Sam, and I’m out?”

Samena took an even breath, settling a twinge in her stomach. Her fingers clasped together into a barricade on her lap. A few loose strands of her onyx hair slipped alongside her cheek.

“Allan, please, just go.”

Allan was already pacing in tight, forceful ellipses in front of Samena. He waved his arms in sharp jerks, blades of flesh and bone that crumpled and stretched his ratty T-shirt with each swipe.

“No, I won’t ‘just go.’ You’re going to kick me out, throw away all we’ve built up, just because I had a little bit too much to drink? That’s bullshit.

Total bullshit.”

His words flared with their venom-lined edge again, each syllable another stab at her. Samena tightened her fingers on each other, uncrossed then re-crossed her legs as the black denim rubbed together.

“All the more reason for you to not be with a ‘cold-hearted bitch’ then, correct? Since I’m upset over ‘total bullshit.’”

Even as she said this, she could feel the bitter

chill it left in her mouth. Allan’s face dropped for a second, but quickly contorted into another raging maw, ready to strike, ready to devour Samena where she sat. His arm shot up. Drawn, readied, and on the verge of swinging. Samena flinched almost imperceptibly in the armchair and closed her eyes, preparing for the slash of pain to her face. His arm fell to his side limply.

“I cannot believe you. Fine. You know what? I’m done. You can go fuck yourself with whatever shard of glass you use to get off.”

Allan turned to leave. His shoulders and back

hunched. Samena kept her glacial stare fixed on him.

“I’ll be back for my shit.” “I’ll have it ready for you.” Allan squinted his eyes. A snarl curled up, but

the energy to sustain it leeched from his face. He grabbed the knob to the front door, swung it open, and slammed it behind him. The decorative glass panes rattled in their frames as Allan opened the rickety car door and slammed it shut. The engine kicked up, revved, and faded.

Samena drew in another breath, but it ripped and felt ragged as she swallowed it down. As she settled her hands on her knees to rise, small feet pattered away from around a hallway corner.

“Fuck.”

She pressed her eyelids together and jammed a knuckle into the corners. Slow deliberate steps took her through the small living room, around the same hallway corner, and down to the end where a bedroom door was closed and locked.

“Gavin, please unlock the door. You know we don’t lock doors.”

Samena knocked gently, pressing her forehead against the dark-stained wood. Nothing stirred inside.

“Please, Gavin. Mommy just wants to talk.”

The small feet plopped to the floor, bare skin sticking slightly to the wooden planks. A slight clunk, a twist, and the door gave way to Samena’s forehead. A mass of black curls drooped over a swollen face streaked with tears. She bit the inside of her lip as it pursed.

“Honey, can I come in?”

Gavin’sblack curls nodded wearily as they turned and retreated to the bed, a red Power Rangers shirt bounced at his little knees. She followed with quiet steps. Gavin flung himself onto the bed and buried his face deep into a Luke Skywalker pillow. She laid next to him and draped her arm over his back.

“Can you tell me why you’re crying, please?”

Muffled sniffles squirmed up from the fabric as small brown feet rubbed together, toes curling and folding over each other. Her hand traced Gavin’s side with a ginger touch, smoothing out his shirt and covering his Blue’s-Clues-underweared bottom.

“Gavin, please talk to Mommy. Did you see or hear what happened?”

Another slow nod. Tears tried to bead at Samena’s eyes, but she blinked them away and swallowed the quake in her voice.

“Gavin, baby, it’s okay. He’s gone now. Mommy’s okay. I promise.”

A sharp squeal and shudder erupted from Gavin, and a scream boomed into the pillow. Little fists grabbed the edges and pulled them close to the sides of his head. Gavin curled into a tight ball and heaved with each successive sob, his tears seeped into her shirt. Samena gripped his side with her firm hand and brought him into her chest. The sting in her eyes grew unbearable. She tried to open her mouth to comfort him, but the seizing of her throat only snagged on air as she inhaled sharply. His arms wrapped around her neck ashis head bobbed and bumped into her chin.

“Please, baby. It’s okay. Mommy’s okay.”

Gavin’s sobs quieted for a moment as he took a

haggard breath.

“No, Mommy. No, you’re not.”

He choked up the words, and they wrenched the tears from Samena’s eyes. She cradled him closer with her arms and stroked his back with her hands, rocking them both to sleep.

Samena’s vision fluttered and blurred into focus as Gavin snored gently, still wrapped up in her arms as his hair tickled her cheek. She meticulously unraveled her arms from him and tucked him into bed. She rose with care and glanced at a Power Ranger wall clock. Two hours had passed. Allan would probably be back soon. She slid from Gavin’s room and left the door slightly cracked, flicking out the light. The small wet stains of his tears on her chest could still be seen, so she changed.

She went to her bathroom, still littered with Allan’s effects. The sink faucet handle creaked as cool water dribbled out, slowly at first, then a stream that gurgled into the drain. She cupped her hands and splashed the water onto her face and patted it off with a towel. The faint smell of Allan’s shaving cream crept in her nose. Her jaw clenched as she tossed the towel onto the vanity counter and gripped the edges of the quartz slab. The water creaked off and Samena busied herself by collecting Allan’s belongings into clear plastic totes.

Another hourand Samena had the totes filled and stacked outside on her porch. With each one she placed, a numbness slinked through her body lasting longer and longer until it didn’t fade. Her hair was wrapped into a neat bun at the crown of her head, not a strand out of place.

The familiar sputtering of an engine pulled into the driveway. Her hands balled into fists at her side, but she forced them to relax. She dropped herself into the living room armchair and sat in silence, eyes fixed on the window covered by elegant curtains. The engine cut off. Shoes gritted against the concrete of the driveway. Crunch. Crunch. They continued up the wooden porch stairs. A heavy thud wracked on the door as Allan’s knuckle pounded glass panes.

“C’mon, Sam, let me in. I’m sorry. Can we talk about this?”

Samena gulped a lump in her throat down. She tried to ignore him, to push his presence away. More knocking. The panes rattled harder. The door shuddered in the frame.

“I’m trying to be nice here, Sam. Let. Me. In.”

She jumped up from her chair and hastily undid the locks, yanking open the door.

“You’re going to wake up Gavin. There’s your stuff. Now, please take it and leave.”

“You’re not even going to give me a chance to explain myself?”

“The only thing I’m going to give you is your stuff. Leave.”

“Sam, c’mon, this isn’t fair—”

Samena, still holding the doorknob, pushed it closed with a slam.

“I don’t even know why I tried with a soulless

bitch like you.”

Allan grunted and huffed, trying to heft all the totes up at one time in an awkward tower. He made a few steps before a yelp and a crash battered against Samena’s ears.

“Fucking-shit. Damnit.”

The ghost of a smile settled on Samena’s face as she stepped away from the door. Allan cursed and shuffled outside, presumably scraping his things from the ground and back into the totes, then into his car.

Evening sun filtered through the door’s glass and the windows, splattering multicolored smears and shadows on the furniture, floor, and walls. Samena took another deep breath and headed back towards her bedroom, then back into the bathroom.

She turned the bath faucet and let the tub fill with steaming water. As it did, she slowly disrobed, letting her clothes slump into piles in the bathroom corner. A few small, jagged scars raked along the middle of her back. She grabbed a small make-up wipe from the packet beside the sink and wiped away the concealer from her face. Another flick of a scar faded into view along her hairline. She stared at it for a moment, the steam from the filling bath beginning to cloud the mirror. Her eyes drifted down to her nose, just slightly skewed left with a bump on the bridge. Her visage blurred as the last of the mirror fogged over.

The water in the tub sloshed gently as she let herself down into it. It wrapped her like a thick warm blanket. She drifted down lower, the water

swallowing up her ears, her hair splaying out in a mass of inky black. Her hands clasped together over her breasts as she held herself in the tub.

“I’m okay.” The words sounded so far away, so foreign, so

empty.

“I’m okay.”

They continued to drift, coiling into darkness as Samena closed her eyes. Gavin’s words splintered across her mind with ferocious intensity. No, you’re not.

Warm tears mingled with the water around her face.

“No, I’m not.” n

Jarod Jordon is a senior at East Carolina University majoring in English with minors in creative writing and psychology. With a passion for writing, he aspires to attain his MFA in creative writing with a concentration in fiction in order to teach creative writing courses at the collegiate level.