Chapter 426: Jo XI—Alone
The second morning in a row and Josefina opened her eyes only to feel terrified, startled, empty, and sad. The difference this morning, she also felt something terribly wrong. Tears filled her eyes when she sat up, and her body ached, her lower back, her neck, and she pulled up her nightgown, splotching on her thigh, just a little. Her legs were sore, but not unusual. Treating herself like a train wreck, she could only expect to feel like one. Ah but that wasn’t what was wrong, she leaned forward and dropped her face into her hands.
Face pale and not understanding, eyes not comprehending why he deserved this and why she had done it. Truthfully, Josefina didn’t understand why she had done it. Irritation, that led to boredom that led to fear that led to cutting him off, pushing him away from her, the man who had dared to reach into her soul and tickle her, the man who had left himself inside her, and even then, her body had not let him stay.
I would have hurt him, I would have done it, it’s in my nature, I would have gouged him, and its better I did it now. Why wait to cripple him when it’s easier to wound him. Every morning for the past few days, she told herself this, and it dulled her pain slightly, and it took the edge off her guilt, but this morning was different.
What’s wrong? She even whispered it to herself and slowly rubbed her hands together. No dream, or vision, or little voice spoke to her or stuck in her memory. She didn’t believe in miracles, in prophecy, in divine intervention or fate, but something had to explain this feeling. Everywhere she hurt, her mind felt scrambled and through to her bones she felt afraid, she wanted Peter next to her, his cheek in her lap, her fingers in his hair, and she wanted to be sure that he was okay.
She could call him. Things couldn’t be too late. The bright Arizona sun cut through her curtains, the room felt dry and warm, so warm in a way she had almost forgotten in that dry thin cold of Denver. She could go back, all of her stuff still at his apartment; she could call him from there and apologize, and make sure that he was okay.
Jo groaned and grabbed her hair. I could crawl back to him. I could swallow everything and swallow him, but she couldn’t stomach the idea of picking up the phone and calling him. Even worse, she didn’t want to go back to that state, to that city, she didn’t want to face anyone over there again, not even the women who had begun to accept her, and made her feel like part of a group. Most of all, she didn’t want to hear Peter tell her that he agreed, they should be apart, or that he hated her and had already thrown her shit into the garbage.
Forget him, he’s fine.
“You’re not hungry, Josefina?”
The eggs jiggled on her plate and taunted her, a weeping yellow yolk trickling out and pooling into the bacon. Fried potatoes wafted steam, smelled heavily of garlic and onion, droplets of grease beaded the rim of the plate. Even the toast, she imagined it would scrape at her gums, salty with butter. “I ate a heavy dinner, Dad.”
“Yeah right.”
She looked at her father, extra flesh hung around his once angular and chiseled chin, extra flesh made a ring that hung around his once lean belly. “You’ve been eating too much, Dad.” His dark eyes lit up, warm with amusement, a man who loved nothing more than to be criticized or insulted.
“And you haven’t been eating at all.”
“I don’t feel like it,” she whispered.
“Did he dump you?”
Straight to the point and straight to the heart, as usual he never missed.
“Noo.” Jo said and she glared to show him how unavailable she was for blunt conversation. “I left him.” Left him, those eyes, that mouth, tears, red cheeks, hurt, betrayal and he’d asked her softly, pleaded, don’t go. No man had ever told her that he needed her; she’d never been around long enough to hear that, never allowed her worth to grow like that in their eyes.
“Did he hurt you?”
Bliss, endless hours of bliss, not just screwing, but touching and laughing, connecting, tangling. Yes, sometimes it hurt, his enthusiasm, it hurt, when she was tired, it hurt, sometimes. Other times, she hurt him, intentionally, teeth in his flesh, what she loved, the sound of his moan, surprised whimpers of pain. “We hurt each other, Dad.”
“But he hurt you more?”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Dad I don’t want to talk about it, I’m fine. He wasn’t that important to me at all, I dumped him, I’m sure he’s already over it. I just need to get set back moving home and apartment hunting. Okay? That stresses me out a little.”
“Right,” he said, and he took her plate off the table and dug into it with his fork. Some of the egg yolk stayed on his mustache, and Jo stared at it, without the energy to mention it. “Never seen you this bad before over a relationship, darling. You want my roof over your head right now, you talk to me about it, did he hurt you in any way? What went wrong?”
Reddish gold hair, soft, soft, soft skin, soft eyes, soft laugh, soft smile, soft feelings, the man meant to be a woman and she had torn him up as if he were one. “Dad,” and she couldn’t help it, tears, they fell, they seared, and she covered her face feeling a wail, a sob, a complete desolation of soul escaping. “Nothing went wrong, it was so perfect, he loved me, I could tell he loved me.”
She heard him put down the plate and he came to her, hugged her in arms now soft and thick, and kissed the top of her head. Briefly, she wondered if he’d gotten any of that egg yolk in it. “So he fell in love with you?”
“Maybe,” she sniffled, “I don’t know, I’m just being conceited.”
“Or maybe you just wanted him to?” he said softly and he let her go, went back to his side of the table and grabbed the plate again.
Amazingly, Jo felt the sobs subside, her father always had that way of calming her. She knew he would listen, he’d always been there. “Maybe I just wanted him to,” she nodded and she grabbed a napkin off the table, blew her nose. “And I didn’t want to find out that he didn’t.”
“Mm,” he said, ate in silence for a little while and Jo began to cry again as she sat there. With half of the plate consumed, he put it down and crossed her arms. “You know how I felt the first morning I woke up and your mother, your beautiful mother with her beautiful dark eyes and long dark hair was gone, and I realized for a certainty that she would never come back and I just couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong.”
Jo wrinkled her nose. “No?” And she felt odd, she remembered her mother, and those exact things about her, eyes and hair, her pale arms the sudden realization that those hugs and kisses were gone.
“Like shit of course,” he replied and he finished the rest of his plate.
“Come on! Before they call us for breakfast and then we’re really stuck.”
Jo waved her hand at the kitchen doorway, her older brother Phil stood just outside, leaning in, his body dark in the sunrise, his mouth frowning. He had turned fifteen last month and Jo was getting quite annoyed with his acting like an adult now, but before sunrise he’d woken her up and told her to get up in his secret mission voice that she hoped that perhaps her old brother had returned! She waved her hand at him, her eyes on the television. Italian, as a language, escaped her comprehension pretty much, she only knew as much as simple conversation allowed but it was enough to see the pictures on the news. More photographs of Mt. St. Helens erupting had surfaced and were being flashed on the screen, and video of the devastated areas, the ash, flattened trees, ghostlike cars chilled her.
We’re missing it! She thought, everyone at school had to be talking about this, whispering about it, learning about it from teachers. When she got home, everyone would probably tell her all about it as if she didn’t know, and inform her about it, and treat her like she’d missed everything. She crossed her arms in annoyance, nothing was fair! “I just want to see the pictures.”
Phil came back in, and put his arm over her shoulders, a tall lanky boy who spoke more Spanish than English. Dad didn’t think to talk to Phil in English when he was tiny, and Mom was so busy modeling she didn’t have the time. As a result he’d never really cared about English until he’d gotten late into Elementary school, where everyone teased you if you spoke Spanish and picked on your skin color. Jo always made sure to help her older brother with English, and felt so proud with his progress in the last couple of years. It resulted in a close bond between the two, and she felt so lucky to have a cool big brother, not one that always picked on her and made her life hell like some of her friends had.
“It is the same pictures from last night, eh?” Phil said. “Nothing new. Come on, unless you want to eat breakfast with eight million screaming relatives we don’t know.”
For emphasis he held up the canvas bag he’d packed a picnic in and swung it pendulously. “Hungry?”
“We’re wasting time!” Jo grinned and she snatched the bag and ran from the house. “Slow poke!”
Phil caught up to her easily, and passed her, stumbling over his feet at intervals. Competitive nature fired, Jo willed her scrawny legs and took longer strides, and laughed as she began to match his speed. Although her brother was tall, about five feet six, Josefina was only an inch shorter and still growing. The only thing she lacked right now was meat and fat on her bones to power her. “Gotcha!” she cried and she tagged Phil and lost her footing, when she realized another girl had been on her pathway, and she wouldn’t be able to avoid her. She felt soft flesh smash into her own and she heard a scream as she fell into a tangled pile on top of the girl. “OW!”
Tears filled her eyes and she rubbed her knee squinting at the other girl who had her face in her hands and moaned in pain. Phil laughed heartlessly, and picked up the canvas bag. “I hope you girls didn’t screw up the food.”
“Who cares!” Jo snapped and she held up her wounded leg, “I’m bleeding.”
“You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten.”
Jo curled her lip in defiance, “Well you care obviously.”
“Of course I do,” Phil replied and he leaned over the other girl, held his hand out to her. “Do you speak English? We’re Americans, sorry about what happened there, my sister’s an idiot, are you okay?”
The first thing Jo noticed about the girl was her milky white skin, pure ivory skin, like Mom had and ladies in old paintings and romance books. She looked at her pale palms and the contrast of her tanned skin to it. The girl’s eyes were closed and she lifted her face, and Jo could see she had to be just about their age, all limbs and sprouting breasts and a few pimple spots on her forehead. “I’m American too,” the girl said, patting one hand over her sleek, shiny ebony hair bobbed so that it fell around her pointed chin. “What were you guys running from?”
And then she opened her eyes, Jo didn’t see them at first, but Phil certainly did and his jaw dropped and he blinked. “I’m Phil, Phil Ruiz, who are you?”
“Corinne Lafet,” the girl said and she cringed and rubbed her forearm. “And what about you cannon ball, what’s your name?” She turned and Jo saw those eyes, grass green in such a way that they looked artificial. Not that special at all really, but Jo could tell Phil would be raving about them later. Ick.
“Josefina,”
she rubbed her knee. “We’re from
“
“So are you on vacation? Are you okay? My sister didn’t hurt you right?”
“Sure I’m fine,” Corinne replied with an easy smile, a friendly laugh, “If I can share some of that food you’re talking about. I ran out before breakfast so I wouldn’t have to deal with my sister, I’m kinda hungry.” Oh God! Jo thought in horror, she flirts exactly like Mom does and she’s just as pretty. She crossed her arms.
“Yeah, we got lots of food, bread and some fruit, water, and other stuff. It’s nothing cool like McDonald’s but we’ll be okay.” He opened the bag and showed it to Corinne. “Let’s find a spot to sit and we can eat. So… so how long have you been here, where are you staying…”
Jo rolled her eyes as they started walking away and she groaned as she stood up and she even made sure to limp and groan at intervals to show them how injured she was. Phil didn’t notice her, but Corinne did offer to act as a crutch for her, to which Jo promptly refused. Phil kept asking her everything about her life, and Corinne just laughed with him and told him her age, fourteen, here with her sister, she went to Parochial school, and then she asked Phil everything about his life. True love hm?
Annoyed now more than anything Jo turned away from them and gnawed on a crusty bread roll, thinking about how it sucked that her only fun time she would have with her only friend in this country was being sucked away by a green eyed snowy skinned intruder. “Oh I’m sorry,” Corinne suddenly said, “I’m hogging your brother! I’m sorry you’re left out.”
Jo held back a scowl and she smiled to the intruder, snake eyes, lizard eyes, lizard breath. “No it’s fine, I’m just eating anyway.”
“Well come on tell me about yourself.”
Jo shrugged, “I bet you’re more interesting. Why are you here with just your sister?”
Corinne’s cheeks turned a little pink. “My parents are dead, I think, I never knew them. We never did. Pauline takes care of me.”
Great now she felt like crud. She even felt Phil’s glare. “Oh wow, sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Um, how, how old is your sister, Pauline, is that her name?”
“Nineteen,” Corinne replied. “But she acts like she’s my Mom, I’m sick of hearing about it you know? I mean, she’s barely older than me.” She plucked another strawberry from a Tupperware container, the tips of her fingers were bright red with the juice and she sucked on one of them. Jo looked at Phil who seemed completely enamored with Corinne. Great now she’d have to deal with a lovesick brother for the next three weeks and his heartbreak after that!