She’s quiet, observant. She can be clingy, but not overly so.
What she is, is misunderstood. If someone was to take the time and look beyond the mask she wears, they’d see a beautiful human being who only wants to feel protected. I’ve become her shield, which is why I’m here with her long enough to help her get settled in. Once everyone accepts her and sees the real her, I’ll bounce.
I didn’t lie to her about that when she asked me to tag along. The longest I ever stayed put was in college, where the two of us bonded over late night snacks, the mean girls club, and the jocks whoallthought they were the Kens and Barbies of the campus. All plastic dildos and tits—at least that’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.
“What do you think?” Jersey asks, breaking through my musings.
“About what?” I ask, tuning back into the conversation.
“Britton,” she whines, giving me her doe eyes.
“Jersey,” I whine back, impishly pouting. “You know I’m spacey, girl, so don’t go whimpering at me when my thoughts take over and go sideways. I can’t help it that my mind is full of curves and doesn’t stay on the straight and narrow path.”
“What’s going on with you, anyway? You’re more antsy than usual,” she claims, staring at me as if I’m a bug under her microscope.
“Don’t try to examine or analyze me, Jersey. You’ll give yourself a migraine,” I tease.
“You’re going to leave soon, aren’t you?” she asks, her question coming out as a whisper.
“Probably. Maybe. I don’t know,” I say, groaning. “You know I’m a free spirit.”
“Yeah. I was just hoping you’d be happy here,” she states, looking depressed which has my hackles rising.
“Jersey,” I hiss, giving her a scolding look. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to gaslight me and make me feel guilty. I told you I’d stick around for as long as I could, and I will. I get that you’re not ready, so I’m staying… for now.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, the tear leaking down her cheek giving me the shivers.
I do not do tears. Of any variety. I come across as cold, frigidly so, but I can’t help that, I’m a product of my making. Another thing I can thank my incubator for. The bitch. Emotions of any kind were not tolerated or allowed, and if I showed any, the punishments were swift and inventive. My scars run deep, you may not be able to see them from the outside, but they’re there. Loud and motherfucking proud.
“Don’t do that, Jersey. Don’t thank me for being a friend,” I chide. “I’m not sure which one of us is more screwed up.”
She snickers before saying, “I think it’s a toss up.”
“No truer words have ever been spoken,” I acknowledge, causing her to shoulder bump me. “Our folks are assholes.”
She looks off into space before averting her attention back onto me. “Yes, they are. I still can’t understand why a mother would birth children that she doesn’t want. Adoption would’ve been kinder. At least that would’ve given us a fighting chance of having parents who cared.” Her story is just as heartbreaking as mine, if not more. At least I had a father who was present, herswas not. If I was an assassin, they’d be my first solo kill. Their abuse of her ran far deeper than mine did.
“Our mothers should’ve been spayed,” I murmur, stating a fact. “Both of ours suffer from psychopathy.”
“That’s a damn good diagnosis,” she blathers. “And what’s your take on my father, Dr. Britton?”
“That he sucks and should have his balls chopped off,” I honestly answer. Her father wasn’t an abuser, but he was dismissive, turning a blind eye to her mother’s malfeasant deeds. Keep the Dalmatians away from Jersey’s mom, she’s Cruella DeVille in the flesh. Too bad she’s not animated so I can shut her off. The woman showed up on campus several times. Every damn one of them she showed her ass and made Jersey’s bullying triple in degree. No lie, the woman walked behind Jersey with a ruler. Every time my friend slouched, she’d tap that damn wooden rod on Jersey’s shoulder and tell her every shortcoming she had. It wasn’t only demeaning, it was synonymous with every villain you ever read or watched on television. The rumor mill got a kick out of it and it circulated through the grapevine like wildfire. Not only was she a nerd, shy, and wore out of date clothes, but not even her mother liked her.
“Wish someone would’ve thought of that before he hooked up with my mother,” Jersey grouches.
“But then you wouldn’t be here, and where would that leave me?” I point out.
If anyone were to hear my argument, they’d think I was deplorable and only friends with her for my benefit, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. But with my girl, if you make it about her or say anything in a positive light, sheretreats, thinking she’s unworthy. Which she’s not, but there’s no convincing her of that.
Maybe one day, someone better with words will come along and make her see that sheisworth more than she believes she is.
“Not having to be somebody’s shield when it comes to life,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.
“Hey,” I say, frolicsomely bumping her shoulder with mine. “You’ve gotten better, Jersey. Stop being so hard on yourself. The world is your oyster, we just have to break open that shell you’ve placed around yourself so everybody else can see the pearl that you are.”
“You have an obsession with jewels, Britton,” she retorts, a smile breaking out across her face. Finally! I hate that she’s always down in the dumps, waiting for someone to give her a thumbs up. It’s something we’re working on.
“Can’t deny that, they’re shiny. I like things that have a little bling to them,” I muse.
