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“Let’s just hope Jessica saw things in the same way.”
Chapter Nine
‘Screw you’ had been Jessica Boland’s answer to everyone and everything for some time now. Other than hate, she hadn’t had a real emotion in so long that when Ray Olander first entered her world, she almost let the relationship slip away. And that would have been a tragedy.
Especially for a girl whose home life had been hell from the time she could remember. Her mother, the fat cow, seldom lifted her head from that stupid idiot-box in the living room, slouching on the couch with a beer in her hand from morning till night. Only exercise she got was waddling her way to the fridge and the bathroom.
Her stepfather only gave a shit about two things, his ugly son Herbie who couldn’t care less if the old man lived or died… and his gun collection. If she had to bet money as to what would come first in his affection, she’d put it on the guns and win.
From the time her body had begun forming, growing up in that stinkin’ house had been a continuous fight for safety and sanity. Between Herbie always pawing at her, her old lady too plastered to notice, and a stepfather who bitched all the time about how hard he worked with no appreciation, life had been intolerable.
Jessica Boland hated everyone except for Ray, who never cared whether she came to school looking like a girl or wearing boy’s clothes. New bruises got attention and the nagging would start at her until she’d admit Herbie had caught her yet again, or the little bastard had blamed her for some mischief he’d done, and his lies had gotten her another parental beating.
Instant anger would appear on Ray’s expression when more cuts from the belt her mother often fostered enough energy to use showed up. Flailing away at her daughter when some fabricated wrong had been blamed on her gave the woman a weird kind of enjoyment, as if she took out her hatred for her life on the girl who most often curled up and took the punishment. Not that Jessica was an angel.
Since she met her friend, she’d deserved some of the beatings and had begun to wallow in her rebellion. Ray had given her the backbone she’d been missing all along. Growing up as an underdog, she’d been cowed and terrified to make things worse. After listening to rants about how she had to take control, make up her mind that she wasn’t taking it anymore, she’d grown balls… the term Ray used for being strong.
Now she dressed like the male she’d yearned to be. Now she told the world to go fuck itself every chance she got. And now she didn’t take shit from anyone. Screw them all.
Her mom had been shocked the first time Jess had wrestled for control of the belt and turned the sucker on her. Damned good thing the old bitch had hid in the bathroom wailing away like a sicko, or Jessica wouldn’t have stopped. As it was, she’d beaten at the locked door until her arm had been weak.
Of course, her mother had internally hemorrhaged her disgust at the treatment, screaming that Jessica was dead to her now. “Get out of my house, you ungrateful fucking brat. I’ve looked after you all these years and you turn on me like this. Go! Fuck off! I want you gone.”
Jessica went to sleep every night with those vile words ringing in her ears… that’s when she could sleep. She’d remember that day in all its ugly details. Herbie cowering, watching from behind a corner and then running when she looked in his direction. His wicked face had been filled with a weird kind of glee. “You’re sick, Jessi. Sick! You hear me. Mom is really pissed, and I don’t blame her.”
Waving the belt around her head, she’d started to go after him, and he’d screamed in such a high pitch, like a terrified person in a circus madhouse, that for some unfathomable reason, it had made her laugh hysterically. She couldn’t stop until the cries ripped so deep, they tore at her and left her gasping, her bleeding insides empty except for the ungodly pain.
Wracked with turbulent emotions of shame and resentment for having been pushed to such extremes, she’d sought out Ray.
“Good for you, Jess. I’ve been telling you to fuck them off for a long time. You know you can stay with me. My old man’s always gone on some job interview here or there. He’s seldom home anymore.”
Jessica knew Ray hated life, parents… in fact, the whole world. She’d seen the rage contained by pure force of will. There were times when she wondered if Ray were sane, but then she’d be treated so sweetly that she stopped caring.
The day they’d met had been epic dysfunction for them both. She’d gotten her hair cut, a boy’s style with the sides shaved to within an inch, leaving the top long and wavy. From the moment she’d seen herself in the mirror, she’d finally felt normal. The fact that it made her look like a boy all the better. Hadn’t she wished for years she’d been born that gender?
Then fat Herbie wouldn’t come after her and overpower her until he’d gotten what he wanted, his hand on her mouth to stop the screams.
Unfortunately, the girls from school had recognized her ploy and the cruel jokes began to surround her, five of them all coming at her at once. “Bitch. Dyke! You can’t handle being a female? You look stupid.” The insults circled her until she felt the tears start.
Before she could run away, Ray had broken up the ring of hateful bitches and had approached her with remorse, though the opening salvo shocked her at the time. “Fuck them, kid. No one’s business but yours who you are, right?”
She’d thanked God then for sending her a protector and followed him as they walked away together. “My name’s Jess Boland. I appreciate you saying what you did.”
“No problem. Look, those twits have no power over you unless you give it to them. From what I saw, you were close to doing just that. If you’d have cried, they’d win. Understand?”
“I think so.”
“Never give anyone the power to make you behave in a way you don’t want to. I sure as hell don’t. You like being a boy, then be one. You want to cut your hair, fuck ‘em. It looks good. Never let anyone take over your rights.”
“How did you figure all this out?”
“My asshole of a father pitched the shit to me for years, turns out he had something. I learned that people only have the authority over you that you give them yourself.”
And those words became her mantra. They had stayed close after that. In fact, Ray had pretty much been the only person who’d talk to her, and she was fine with things that way. She trusted their friendship. Though home life for Ray had been totally opposite to hers, it had still been hell.
Ray’s mom had remarried and lived two states over. And the father worked as a news reporter, always following the next big story. Made a person wonder if Mr. Olander knew or cared that he left a young, teenage kid back home with a hated housekeeper.
Over the next few months, Jessica had listened to so many stories about the dried-up, old bag, Eva, that she’d begun to close her ears. Not that Eva was all that ancient in years, but she acted very much like the spinster Ray made her out to be. Every day, the solitary woman who spoke accented English, cleaned the empty house, cooked a meal, and left it waiting in the kitchen for whenever Ray decided to eat.
