Sydney Bay Janes

"Surprise, Sydney," a distorted voice mocked the line from one of my favorite horror films - Scream (1996.)

Whoever it was knew me well enough to know my name and interests. I hoped none of my friends would scare me like that but seeing it was a black SUV, I thought it'd be the girls — Chyna— coming back from brunch to kiss and make up with me already.

In my YSL heels, I walked towards the passenger side.

With a coy smile, I watched the window scroll down.

"Chyna, Chyna, Chyna," I sounded, shaking my head.
Looking down at my pedicure, I said, "I didn't think you'd come looking for me this fast."

"Well here I am," a man's rugged voice made me gasp.

"Donovan, park the car," he commanded.

When he tried getting out, I unfroze my limbs and pushed my weight against the door so he couldn't.

"You stay there," I bossed, "don't come near me. What do you want?"

"You, baby girl," he smirked, removing his Cartier shades.

My head shook in grief as I took some steps backwards.

I looked to my left, more road, the car could stop me and corner me. To my right, the same thing and I'd eventually end up back at the brunch spot. Those snooty people there would be of no help.

Ahead of me, the highway and on the other side, a super Target in a plaza.

"Fuck you," I boomed.

"Hi, Sydney!" Donovan waved.

My hands dropped from my hips and I stared at him.

"I just wanna talk," Tony said calmly. I never heard that tone before, but I knew it was manipulative and not long before his mentally ill alter ego showed himself.

"You and me, we have nothing to talk about," I growled, walking away.

I advanced ten paces before the SUV sped in front of me.

I wept in distress, grabbing the hair at my temples.

His patience had worn thin.

"Get in the car, Sydney," he finally demanded. Tony's grey eyes went black. He looked less human, more monster. Evil.

'Be smart, Sydney,' I heard in my father's voice.

I faked a sultry smile and switched towards the truck, digging in my purse subtly.

"What do you really want, Tony?" I whispered in his face.

Tony eyed me from my feet up, by the time he realized, I had the pepper spray aligned with his eyes.

He couldn't even react before I sprayed him.

His agonizing screams disoriented Donovan long enough to give me a head start. My heels had straps, I wasn't able to kick them off so I didn't bother trying and risking slowing down my escape.

Cars beeped at me and swerved trying to avoid hitting me. I hadn't ran in so long but I put my legs to good use then. My heart thumped in my chest, my body in fight-or-flight. I guess flight. I fled across every lane and made it safely to the shopping center after what seemed like an eternity. Boy that was a whirlwind.

'Never do something that dumb again,' I could hear my mother say.

I looked around and didn't spot Donovan's SUV. Good. But just to be safe, I kept running.

Later that day, as I waited for my Uber to arrive, I called Chyna. And of course, she didn't answer.

So I left a message.

"Hey, it's me. I'm home - safe. I just wanted you to know that because I know how you are, but I'm still super pissed at you. You're pissed at me, too, I get that. Listen, you're just drunk, tomorrow you'll be ready to apologize and I hope it includes chocolate. K, text me," I voiced before putting my phone down.

The car pulled up and I waved, confirming it was for me.

*

"What music do you like?" The Uber driver asked me through his islander accent.

"Oh," I said, sniffling. "um, anything is fine. Something soft. A-and not too loud, please."

He nodded and pressed some buttons on the screen.

I sat back in the seat and held my aching stomach. Perhaps at brunch I should've done more eating, less drinking.

"Long day?" He wondered.

I rotated my neck from the window to look at the upper half of his brown face in the mirror.

I just nodded, frowning, and he chuckled.

"Text Will," I commanded.

Ready, I said, "I'm close, you can come over now. If you get there before I do, you know where the key is. Hunter still has Finn so you don't have to worry about taking him for a walk or anything. Just, uh, hurry up. Please?"

"That your boyfriend?" He inquired.

I dropped my hand from my cheek and sighed deeply.

"With all due respect, sir," I deadpanned, "I really don't fucking wanna talk about it."

SLAM! Went the car door.

"Thank you," I said to my driver, getting out.

I didn't realize quite how much shopping I'd done at that plaza to kill time. To kill time, plus I wanted to be somewhere public in case Tony Becker tried anything.

"Need help?" He asked, handing me my groceries from Target. I kept the one bottle of fine red wine in my hand, the other bags along both arms and in my other hand.

"No, thanks, I got it," I responded dry.

"Here, let me," he offered, reaching over me to assist.

"I said I got it, okay?!" I yelled. I had to yell, he was pushy and invaded my personal space. I'm not too keen on his gender at the moment either, so there's that factor.

I almost apologized, but why? I said no the first time and people need to know boundaries - understand consent.

Exhaling, I struggled but carried my things and self to the sidewalk.

My Uber drive scurried off before I was inside.

I had to check the mail but figured that was another task that could wait, or I'd tell Will to do it for me in a few minutes.

He hadn't yet replied to my texts or calls. I hoped that meant he was showering or on his way and just didn't want to text and drive.

I couldn't wait to get inside and have a drink. Or three.

"You can run, but you can't hide," that voice appeared.

I was so scared I jumped out of my skin, dropping the bottle of red wine across my feet and the sidewalk.

"What the actual fuck do you want, Anthony?!" I screamed.

Donovan came over and took the bags off my arms and I let him.

"The last building, Donny," Tony revealed where I lived.

"Oh, here," he said, handing his assistant my spare key.

"How'd you-"

"In the flower bed? Original. I saw the artificial planter. Lavender, made me think of you. I know you're too smart to put one under your mat, so. And there it was," he talked.

Damn it!

My eyes went to Donovan getting into my townhome with ease. He had on gloves. Tony didn't.

"HELP!" I screamed for anyone. Someone would hear me.

"Shut your fucking mouth," Tony said, pulling me in for a hug, I guess to look like this was a peaceful interaction.

He smiled, looking around to make sure there were no witnesses, and stepped back, squaring my shoulders.

"I have a movie coming up, and we're filming right in Vegas. So I figured I'd come see you, pick up where we left off. The problem is: I need to stay out of the fuckin' media, unless for good, anyway. But as you know, I got a birthday coming up. Figured I'd give you a chance to redeem yourself with me and make a name for your little business. What're you call in' it now? Fidel— Fidelity? Dumb fuckin' name," he laughed.

Donovan exited my apartment with nothing in his hands. I wondered what he'd done, if anything, as he removed his gloves and put them in the trash bin along the sidewalk.

He got in the truck. "Come on, Tony."

Tony put his hand up. "Just a second. I'm not done with her, yet."

I blinked, trying not to let him see me cry. That's weak and I'm not.

"No. I won't throw you a party. Leave me alone, alright? My boyfriend's on the way and he will fuck you up," I warned Tony.

He scratched his beard. "Maybe he will, but not before I tell him you're a killer."

Nice try, but I'd already thought of that.

"He knows, Tony," I admitted with confidence.

"Ah," Tony said, circling my body. "Does he know about your abortion?"

I gulped.

"He doesn't, does he? Or the way you used to get so drunk and high you forgot where you were - who you were?"

I never got an abortion. I did have a pregnancy scare and Tony, hating kids, threw money at me. Some for the procedure, and extra to keep my mouth shut. But I was never with child. I kept the money and never told him the truth. I told him many excuses about why "I wanted to keep the baby," hoping he'd leave me alone. He didn't.

Tony, his chest pressed against my back, took a long sniff of my hair.

He kissed my temple and rubbed his fingernails down my arm.

"Tony!" Donovan rushed.

"I own you," Tony said. "Don't forget that."

He pushed me out of the way and dropped off the sidewalk.

I stood there as he walked to the truck and put his sunglasses back on.
He grabbed a black drawstring bag from Donovan and threw it at my feet.

"Birthday party: plan it. Or else," he ordered.

With that, he told Donovan to pull off and he did.

I stomped my foot and let out an aggravated, "Shit!"

Breaking down, I sniffled and put my head in my knees.

My phone went 'DING!' It was a text from Wilson that read:

On my way

I rolled my eyes and used my forearm to wipe the tears away.

Taking the bag of money, I dusted myself off and stood with my head held high.

"Come on, Syd," I talked to myself how my parents would to me. "Get yourself together. Don't let him see you like this. . ."

*

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I was glued to my seat at the dining table. The knock reminded me I was alive, in this existence.

I swallowed another gulp of wine from a glass I was lucky enough to find in my cabinet.

The high ponytail swept my upper back as I walked to the door in my slippers.

With caution, I put my eye to the peephole first.

My anxiety calmed when I saw it was only Will.

He wasn't in work clothes, that's almost a relief. That meant he was doing something else after four thirty that made him late.

I opened the door, exhaling greatly through my nose.

"You're late," I mumbled.

At the same time, he lunged forward and said, "I'm late."

I let my eyes roll as he kissed the top of my head.

"Sorry, I was with Damian, just lost track of time. It smells good in here, babe. I'm starving," he rambled, walking to the kitchen.

After dinner, Will and I sat in the living room on a cot we made of several big blankets on my floor.

The surrounding candles were our only form of light.

Music played in the background from my Bluetooth speaker.

Will nudged my kneecap. "What's wrong, you've been quiet all night?"

"Just tired," I sniffled, trying not to get emotional.

I dipped my paintbrush back into the red and smeared it across my canvas.

"Well I'm not Delaney, but look," Will said, chuckling.

After half an hour only, he flipped his canvas to show me the painting.

"It's us," he smiled, proud.

I cracked a laugh at the way he exaggerated my mouth and breasts.

"I think it's pretty good," Will's voice rasped. "Let's see yours?"

I clenched the brush in my hand and revealed to him my splatter painting.

Will just stared. "Looks like... blood."

I pushed the supplies off of my lap.

"Can you come somewhere with me?"

***

I had already planned this trip and it was nothing to get Will a ticket, too.

After a brief flight, we were in California.

I parked the rental and woke Will up.

"Stay in the car," I asked of him.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I hopped out the car.

I had on basic, neutral loungewear - beige joggers and a matching top. Over it, a cardigan that matched my Uggs I wore for comfort. And it was chilly that morning.

I wandered bravely up the hill, trying to remember the way.

Strangely enough, I didn't feel eerie or saddened walking across the graves.

RIP
Nora & Dean Janes

I take that back, I'm extremely saddened.

My breath got shaky and my lower lip quivered.

They shared a tomb. Rather than a tombstone, a bench.

I pulled the fabric over my hand and cleared away the debris.

I didn't sit there, instead I remained standing.

The wind blew my hair across my puffy face.

The sun wasn't even out, yet as early as it was in the morning.

"Mom, Dad," I talked quietly.

"I can't believe this is my first time coming to see you."

Donovan said it wouldn't be wise for me to show my face at the funeral, and Tony wouldn't let me.

I swallowed hard. "I miss you. Lately I've been hearing your voices. Mom, you're still naggy. Dad, you're still overprotective. It's crazy how I need you guys more now than ever. I never believed in God, so I can't pray. I feel like I'm sinning, though, when I try. Sometimes I just try praying to you two. Every time I'm home and something little happens like the lights flicker or my pen falls off the counter, I hope it's just you guys. Dad, you like little pranks like that."

I paused and let myself cry.

"Delaney's okay, but I don't want to talk about her. I need you now. I also can't believe this is my first time saying this—even to myself— but I'm sorry. I am. I'm so sorry I'm the reason you're in the ground. I wish I knew Heaven was real; it would be a lot more comforting to know you're poolside with Jesus rocking halos than me sitting here talking to dirt. I wish I never got behind the wheel," I broke down.

"I want to say I'm a good girl, someone you'd be proud of, but I'm not. I'm not a good person. Your little girl, the real Sydney, died in that crash, too. Or I think I'm still seventeen. The nightmares stopped. And I can drive now, slow, but I get to point A to point B in one piece. The truth is, people can tell me it'll be okay, but it's not. They can say that it wasn't my fault, but it is. The worst part is, I'll never know peace because you can't even forgive me. So I have to live with this — live with knowing I killed my parents. You can't come back no matter how much I pray, dream, or wish you would. There's no time machine or fucking plug to pull to get me out of the simulation."

I swiped my palm under my eyes and hyperventilated.

"I think it's my time. Living is torture like this. I'm in pain carrying this weight, this baggage. I wanna be set free from it all, I hope that's not selfish. But I have to be. I wish I had the guts to do it - take myself out of this misery, but I don't. And like Grandma Helen would say, I'm not a coward. Sometimes I just feel like I have nothing to live for. Can't you tell me? I wanna believe in something, give me a sign," I wept under the thunderous sky.

Suddenly, a hand fell on my back.

I looked and saw Will.

He looked upset and pulled me in for a hug.

I looked to my parent's memorial bench and then up to the sky.

Is this— is this my sign?

All of a sudden, the wind stopped and the sky cleared. It was some sort of sorcery.

A ray of sun shone directly onto Wilson's frame, making him appear golden and mythical.

I stumbled back, in awe, and covered my mouth with a hand.

In my ear on the right, I swore I heard my mother's voice - her laugh. And with the next gust of wind, I spun and heard my father's hardy chuckle.

I closed my lips and walked back to Wilson. He brought the flowers I had forgotten in the backseat of the car that I stopped and picked along the way. It was this pretty shade of pink, like coral. My mother's favorite, she always looked so good in it. Dad agreed.

He let go of my hand and placed the bouquet atop the Janes memorial bench.

Then the sunlight broke through all across the sky. And in a final magical act, a single head of the flower, that had broken off the stem during it's journey from the greenhouse to the top of the hill, blew against my stomach.

Will squeezed my hand tight, wary, but tried to smile at me.

My lips parted in an 'o.'

Coral? Hm.