Jack called and asked me to meet him in the park. I had been up late the previous evening, finishing a term paper on psychopomps. School was closing in on winter break. I was exhausted and beginning to feel the effects of the changing season, which left me a little melancholic and despondent. I needed to see him.
Jack hadn’t been home for a few days; busy with work, he was sleeping at his studio. He was beginning to make a name for himself, selling a lot of pieces and having difficulty keeping up with the demand. I was happy for him, but at the same time something monstrous inside, something I barely wanted to acknowledge, resented him for his success.
I felt untethered without his presence to ground me, like I was too deep in darkness. I walked the short distance from our house.
It hadn’t snowed yet, but the temperature hovered near freezing. As I moved, I tugged the collar of my mohair coat into my neck. The grass was crisp and patchy, and each step felt like I was breaking glass. A group of kids kicked a soccer ball back and forth, colourfully bundled in hats, mittens, and scarves. I stopped for a moment to watch, hoping to absorb some of their carefree glee.
A lanky man in his late sixties stood nearby, propped against the trunk of a tree. He waved in my direction. I looked around to see if he was waving at someone behind me, but there was no one else. I smiled politely and nodded in greeting, then continued on. Scanning the park, I spotted Jack through the dying trees, sitting amid a cluster of people. They were drinking beer from cans, perched on a tattered blanket, the kind that someone’s grandmother had likely passed down to them when they moved out of their parents’ house.
“Hey, baby.” Jack waved, beckoned me to join them. I sat next to him and glanced around at the group. They were all wearing black. Vintage cashmere coats, scarves, leather gloves, tartan hats. All black.
“Who died?” I whispered to Jack.
He smirked and kissed me on the cheek as my gaze landed on Jessica’s face. My throat clenched and let go. I hadn’t seen her since the party.
“Hey, Grace.” She was wearing a black beret, her silky red hair peeking out beneath. “Jessica, remember?”
“Of course.” I forced a smile. “Nice to see you.”
“We were just talking about how Jack has the best hair.” She giggled, reaching up and running her fingers through his dark brown curls.
I began scratching my neck, and thought of how I had given him his last haircut.
Jack eyed her before pulling away.
He reached to put his arm around me and I recoiled. My eyes met Jessica’s, and she grinned. Those giant teeth. They seemed whiter in the light of day.
“I think I’m going to run to the store.” I stood up, my knees shaky. I steadied them, turning to Jack without making eye contact. “Do you need anything?”
He peeked down at the half-case next to him. “Um, no, I’m good.”
“Anyone else?” I asked the group.
The unfamiliar heads shook from left to right in their sea of blackness.
I walked at a clip toward the road. The group of kids who had been kicking the soccer ball now sat motionless and silent. Their heads rotated in unison as I approached. I felt as if I were in some sort of twilight zone.
It was cold, insufferably so. My breath turned to vapour as it met the air. Fishing in my pocket for my pack of cigarettes, I tripped, catching myself before I fell.
Jack was chasing me. I could hear him staggering behind me. I’d recognize his tread anywhere. Moving as fast as I could, I hoped to outmanoeuvre him, but he caught up, grabbing me by the arm and knocking my cigarettes to the ground. His mouth was turned down at the corners. “What’s going on?”
“Seriously?” I bent to retrieve the package. Standing, I pulled a cigarette loose with my teeth.
“Why are you being so weird?” Jack raised his gloved hand to meet the tip of my cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his Zippo.
I inhaled, attempting to silence the throbbing between my legs. It always aroused me when he lit my cigarette.
“I was up all night. You didn’t come home, again.” I was whisper-yelling so as not to draw any more attention. “Then I came to meet you—which you begged me to, by the way—and have to watch some bitch run her fingers through your hair.”
“Oh please, don’t be dramatic.” He reached for the cigarette and took a long draw before placing it back in my mouth.
I was melting into placidity, so easily malleable. Jack had this effect on me. He could soften me with a few simple gestures. I wondered why I was even mad as I scratched my neck again, digging my nails in hard and fast, up and down, feeling the warmth and wetness of blood.
“Babe, stop scratching.” Jack grabbed my hand, holding it in his. “You’re bleeding.”
“No, I’m not.” I was stubborn, clutching the ire, questioning myself, questioning everything. I jerked my hand away, staring at it. Blood was caked beneath my nails.
I glanced past Jack, spotting the lanky man once again—the one who had waved at me. He was standing nearby, clutching a penny-farthing bicycle. Our eyes met.
“I’m sorry about Jessica,” Jack said, softly. “She’s just high on a power trip or something.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I took a draw on my cigarette before flicking it. Turning away, I began walking straight through a garden plot filled with flowers in various forms of decay. I heard a crunch and stopped, standing on one foot, balancing to see the bottom of my boot. A withered rose was jammed into the groves of my sole. I looked over my shoulder.
Everything had vanished.