“Jane?”
I roll over in bed. The fog of sleep squeezes my forehead. My eyes struggle to adjust to the light. “What’s the matter?”
My voice is a whisper in the dark. I can’t see Jane properly, but she’s sitting up. The outline of her body is a slate silhouette against the headboard.
“Honey?” I say a little louder and reach my hand over to her side of the bed. It lands on her knee. She doesn’t move. I shake her leg, gently, at first, then with a touch of vigour. She doesn’t budge. There’s a kind of lull in the arc of her head as it bobs down. “Babe.”
Jane doesn’t respond. My teeth grind in frustration. This isn’t the first time she’s done something like this.
“Really? You’re still mad about earlier?” I shake my head.
Again, no response.
“You know I didn’t mean nothing by it. I just wish you’d be a little cooler, you know? Sometimes.”
A car speeds past outside. Its headlights cut a jagged silhouette across the ceiling. Jane’s faced away. Head down.
“I mean, it’s not that you’re not a good wife or whatever. It’s just, sometimes, you pick at me. And we aren’t as, uh, intimate, as we used to be.”
I pull my hand back from her knee. The sullen shape next to me sits in silence. In my mind, in the darkness, her arms are crossed, her lips pursed and pouting. I know what this is about. This goddamn shit again. The bitch doesn’t trust me.
“Listen, what Lisa said don’t mean nothing. I mean, I know you think there’s something there, but I swear to you, there’s not. It’s just… listen. She’s got a nice figure. That’s all I meant by what I said. And then you started with the cheating talk and I was only trying to explain myself. I love you. I mean that. But she’s a pretty girl and sometimes, a pretty girl starts talking to you and you don’t really think and that’s when you get in trouble.”
I breathe in deep. Around me, shadows loom out of the furniture, from behind lamps and dressers and pillows stacked in the corner. There’s a weird scent to the room, familiar, but out of place.
“I mean, I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t have been talking to her like that. It wasn’t flirting, I swear, but I can see your point. But she shouldn’t have told you. She’s your friend. If she didn’t want nothing to do with me, I mean, if she were getting the wrong impression, she should’ve said so. I didn’t mean nothing by it. Instead, she’s gotta start shit between us.”
It’s a sort of sharp smell, but subtle.
“I know I should’ve told you. But it wasn’t a thing, not to me! I didn’t think I did nothing wrong. How was I to know she was gonna make a big deal out of it?”
I roll onto my side and place my fingers on Jane’s shoulder.
“Anyway, I’m sorry. You’re right and I’m wrong and I’ll make it up to you,” I roll my eyes. “I won’t talk to Lisa no more, that’s for sure. Who knows what kind of crazy shit she’ll make up next?”
Jane sits unmoving, a statue in the night.
“Not that it was all made up, but you know. Exaggerated, probably. I don’t know exactly what she said to you but knowing her, she probably made it sound way worse than it actually was.”
Jane’s eyes point down at her lap, inscrutable in the darkness.
“Jane, honey. You gotta say something.”
Silence.
“Come on already. Speak up.”
I snatch my fingers back from her shoulder and shake my head. It only takes an instant for the rage to well up inside me. I’m so fucking tired of this shit. Enough’s enough.
“You know what? Fuck this. You always fucking do this. Something happens you don’t like and all of a sudden, I’m the worst fucking person in the whole wide world! And then I gotta sit there and listen to you go on and on and give me the fucking silent treatment because you don’t trust me for shit.”
The mattress bounces as I sit up and lean back against the headboard, arms crossed.
“So what, I said your friend had a nice body. So what? That’s not my fault. It’s true. I see her, jogging through the neighbourhood. She works out at the gym. She looks good. When’s the last time you went for a jog, huh? When’s the last time you went to the gym?” I demand. “Never mind. Don’t answer. I already fucking know. Fucking never.”
She’s gonna get it now. She’s gonna wish she never tried to take me on. Bitches gotta know their place.
“So, yeah, I fucking look. Maybe if I was treated a little better at home, I wouldn’t. Every night, you got a fucking headache or something. You gotta work in the morning. You’re pissed at me for some reason. Christ, I stayed out, like one night, with Chuckie, and you’d have thought I murdered a fucking baby.”
I give her my best mean stare in the dark.
“Oh, I know you didn’t say nothing, but I can tell. It’s your way or the highway, right? Because it’s not like anyone else should compromise, huh? Look at you. What effort are you putting into this relationship? Maybe if you had a body like Lisa’s, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Or maybe if you took care of my needs once in a while. I mean, we haven’t had sex in a week. I can’t even remember the last time I got a blowjob. Like, three weeks ago? A month?”
My hands gesticulate in the dark, animate cursors of past injustice.
“I do so much for you. Last week, I bought you a brand new fucking microwave and what’d I get for it? Not even a thank you. Maybe I’m not the one who should be sorry here. Maybe it’s you. Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking bitch all the time, we wouldn’t have this problem.”
I stop to wait for a reply, but none comes.
“You’re such a fucking coward,” I spit. “So passive aggressive. Can’t just speak your mind like a normal person. No, you gotta sit there like a fucking lump and give me the silent treatment.”
Jane’s silence continues. Fucking cunt. Fucking bitch. My lips curl into a sneer.
“No wonder I’m looking,” I throw up my hands. “You don’t talk to me. You don’t communicate. You don’t wanna mess around. I’m not a fucking mind reader! I don’t know what you want!”
I throw my hands up in the air in exasperation. Still, nothing from her side of the bed. Christ, she’s really leaning into this whole silent treatment, the bitch. I decide to change tack.
“Listen, all I’m saying is I’d like a little more attention. And maybe for you to drop like, I don’t know… ten pounds? Twenty? It’s not like I’m asking you to go fucking bulimic or something. What are you? A buck forty now?”
Nothing. Huh. Thought that’d get her for sure.
“Maybe thirty pounds. I mean, it’s not that much, really.”
It’s like talking to a ghost.
“Fuck, no wonder I’m hitting on Lisa,” the sarcasm drips from my mouth. “With all this intellectual stimulation and conversation I got at home. She’s a fucking liar, but I’d bet she at least talks to her man. You don’t start talking, I’m gonna be that man soon. I bet Lisa wouldn’t give two shits about screwing you over once she hears what a fucking bitch you are. I know you don’t know it, but I’m a catch. Any girl’d be lucky to have me.”
I scan for any hint of movement. None is forthcoming.
This shit really burns my ass.
Fine. She wants to play this game, I’m going scorched earth.
“And what are you?” I continue. “Huh? You think you’re a fuckin’ prize? A bitch who can’t spend half a second on her man? You don’t even look nice when we go out places. You’re embarrassing. It’s embarrassing to be with you. You fat, fuckin’ pathetic, fuckin’ bitch. You know what? Fuck you, Jane. Fuck you.”
If that don’t do it, nothing will. I flop down on the bed, face away from her and sneer.
I bet she’s got tears running down her cheeks. I bet she’s gonna cry. I listen for sounds of sniffling, but it’s quiet city on that side of the bed. There’s nothing at all. I lift myself back up on my elbows and search Jane’s face for signs of distress. It’s too dark to tell. She still doesn’t say anything.
The bitch.
I jerk her wrist from beneath the sheet and squeeze. I’m gonna get something out of her one way or another. Something squishes between my fingers, slithers out between my knuckles as I wrench down on bones, bones that feel ready to break. Instantly, my hand snaps back. I hold my palm up in front of my face, but the night provides only the greyest of glistens.
“Why are you all fucking wet?”
Instinctively, my eyes go back to Jane’s face. Her shadow stares back, black pits on a black face, in a black room. The out-of-place smell comes stronger now.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no.”
I reach for the lamp beside the bed. The shift in the mattress rocks Jane and she slumps sideways, out of the bed, onto the floor with a clatter and a thud. She bounces off the nightstand, her legs still trapped in the sheets. Her skull loudly off the hardwood. Something metallic skitters across the floor.
“Shit. Jane? You okay?”
I click the lamp on. A pair of red circles stain the mattress, bled together and trailing off the side of the bed. I can’t see Jane’s face. Only her naked legs twisted up in the sheets, and the hem of her nightgown fallen up over her hips, exposing her to the night air. Rivulets of blood stain her thighs. One wrist, twisted up, seeps slow red.
“Jane?”
I lean toward the fallen figure draped off the edge of the bed.
“Honey?”
The stain in the mattress floats back up under my weight, pooling beneath my hands.
“Say something. Anything.”
Across the ceiling, the lights of a passing car slash through once again.
From the floor, silence.
Target: 1400 words
Written: 433 words, short story: Jane Says
Read: Plot & Structure, James Scott Bell
Comics: Cinderella: From Fabletown With Love 6, Jack Of Fables 45, Fables 95-96
Music: Will Of The People, Muse