Page 84 of Break for Me

“Try me.”

“I don’t know how much you already know about me, Memphis,” I said, hoping to not have to have any part of this conversation.

“Act like I know absolutely nothing. And start there,” she said. I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I don’t know what you expect me to tell you. Most of my life has been nothing but having to survive violence. Figuring out how to just endure it and keep moving. And every so often I end up in a position where I can decide what to do about it, whether I want to hand out more of the violence or take the softer route, the gentle route. My version of gentle probably doesn’t look like anybody else’s, but I can pretty well guarantee that it’s more sincere than anybody else’s too. It takes a toll to have to be on the violent side so often that you end up with the clearest perspective of what gentle really means. But that’s really all it came down to, Memphis. I made a choice.”

“Why her?” Memphis asked.

I should’ve known this was not a conversation that I would want to have. We didn’t do the heart-to-heart thing often, but when she decided that we were doing it, there was never any redirecting her.

“I think you owe me that answer at the very least, Jersey. Why her?”

I laughed at that. I owed her way more than an answer that made me uncomfortable.

“The monster in me, the one that wants to hurt people, kill people; the one that needs to be kept locked away. It’s like — it’s like it’s quieter when she’s around. Not gone. I don’t think it’ll ever be gone. But the sound of her stupid voice scraping against my eardrums seems to drown the monster out a little. She’s louder, more infuriating, screams for all my attention so there’s nothing left of me that can focus on the monster. There’s still something in here that tells me to do awful things to her, but that’s a different kind of monster entirely. I don’t want to control that one. I very much want to let that one out. But it’s the other one that concerns me. And she — I think she calms it.”

“There’s a word for that, Jersey Boy.”

“I’m not even the least bit interested in hearing it, Memphis. I’m going to find food and then we’ll be coming your way. Have everything ready. Pack only what you’ll absolutely need and we’ll figure the rest out as we go.”

“Watch your back,” she said. “It’s only a matter of time before they send other teams after her. And after you now.”

“Call me if you need anything, Memphis.”

fifty-nine

TRISTA

“I don’t know why I thought this drive would be more eventful,” I said and leaned my cheek against the car window to stare out at the view of nothing.

“What?” He glanced at me, then immediately put his finger on the button to roll my window down. “Get your face off the glass. Skin leaves smudges.” And the very second that I’d moved away from the glass, he rolled the bitch right back up.

“You’re ridiculous,” I said with the seven hundredth eye roll of the day at his expense. “I don’t know. I thought this would be like a movie today. Car chases and gun fights and explosions. Somebody chasing us all the way there.”

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“Before what?”

“Before it gets violent again.”

I blew out all the air in my body. “Well, that got unpleasant fast.”

We were more than half way to Memphis already, but that still meant we had another six or seven hours of driving left. It probably wouldn’t have felt like such torture if I’d had any other roadtrip companion. Jersey wasn’t necessarily a bad one, aside from the fact that absolutely everything about him annoyed me. Knowing that he was every bit as trapped in this car with me as I was with him made me want to take full advantage of the situation though.

“When can I know your real name?” I asked.

“You do know it.”

“Not the weird state one. The one your mother gave you before she left you at a fire station.”

“She didn’t leave me at a —.” He stopped himself to shake his head. “It’s just Jersey.”

“If you’re only going to let me say your name and please every time you fuck me, don’t you want to know what your actual name would sound like when I scream it?”

I watched his grip on the gearshift tighten and it gave me a hilarious sense of satisfaction that I had such an effect on him, even if my underwear was still wrapped around that gearshift to also make me a little self-conscious.

“My real name doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t have an identity. I’m just Jersey now.”

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