Carmen Jenner - Welcome to Sugartown

“When my boyfriend—no, when my ex-boyfriend got carted off to prison and yours up and left you for fame and fortune.”

“Right.” Holly throws back her shot and beats her chest while making a coughing-wheezing sound that makes her sound like a decrepit old woman. Then she immediately pours another and raises her glass to me. “To men who fuck you over.”

I clink my glass with hers. “To men who rip out your heart.”

“To men and their stupid, beautiful, unforgettable cocks.”

“Amen.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

I sigh. I don’t know why she asks me this, but every week it’s the same. I want to forget him so badly. If it were possible to cut him out of my heart completely, I’d do it. I’d do it and never look back, but I can’t. So the ache and the longing just continue to build inside me until I’m drowning in it: drowning in how much I miss him. How much I still love him and how much I can never forget.

“No,” I lie, but I know even Holly doesn’t believe that.

“Yeah, me neither,” she says and pours us both another drink.

Two weeks later I’m enjoying a lazy Sunday lie-in before having to make my way over to the shop for more baking when the phone rings. Apparently no one else is capable of picking it up, because it rings out and then immediately begins ringing again. I throw back my covers and dash for the kitchen, yanking the receiver from the cradle before it cuts out again.

“Hello?”

“Ana.” It’s Holly. Or at least I think it’s Holly; it’s hard to tell between all the sniffling and sobbing.

“Hols, what’s wrong?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Uh … ooooh.” I slump onto a stool at the breakfast bar and blink for a full minute before I’m able to form a response. “Um, are you sure?”

“I’m staring at twenty sticks with pee on them all screaming positive. My boobs hurt, I wanna simultaneously chuck my guts up and inhale a vat of ice cream, oh and that condom that Coop said was still good after he’d been carting it around in his car since the beginning of time was not even fucking close to being still good because I have his baby taking up space in my uterus. So yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.”

“Holy crap.”

“What am I going to do, Ana?”

“Hols, we’ll figure this out. Just sit tight, I’m coming over.”

“Okay. Ana?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring ice cream.”

“Okay.” I hang up the phone and stare at the countertop and the remnants of a big Sunday cook-up that Dad’s left in the sink and I kind of want to throw up myself. Then I shake off the shock as best as I can and head back to my room. I throw on the first thing I see, yank my hair back into a ponytail and dash out the door.

It’s not until I’m making a beeline for the frozen produce aisle that I remember why I’ve not set foot in this store in over two months. The surreptitious glances, the sombre silence as I leave a trail of gawking shoppers in my wake. It seems a couple of months aren’t long enough for Sugartown residents to get used to the idea that the town “whore” was in actual fact as pure as virgin snow, and their beloved town sports star was a rapist scumbag. My bruises may have healed on the outside but these people remind me daily of the damage done on the inside with their stares and their weighty silence.

I steel my nerves, straighten my spine and avoid their gazes as I turn the corner into the frozen foods section. There are two shoppers at the end of the aisle but I don’t pay them any mind; I don’t even glance in their direction. I just scan the freezer for Holly’s favourite brand and dive in when I see one tub left at the very back. Twenty seconds later I yank it free, and emerge from the cold covered in goose bumps and come face to face with Scott.

The ice cream falls to my feet and my heart leaps around inside my chest as I take in his face and the chicken scratch on his forehead.

RAPIST.

Elijah’s handiwork.

I’d heard about it, of course. Between the town and my dad I’d known exactly what Elijah had carved into his face, but that knowledge couldn’t compare to seeing it firsthand. The letters are etched into his skin with crude red scabs. It’s so disgusting and barbaric and yet fitting, all the same. It’s obvious he’s growing out his hair in an effort to hide it. Seems a stain that dirty should be imprinted on his soul, not just his forehead. Still, I guess it does what Elijah intended it to do, though that doesn’t make it any easier to see up close.

“Take one more step and I’ll scream so loud I’ll bring this place down on top of us.”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says holding up his hands in surrender. “Just shopping with my mum.”

“And violating a restraining order, but then, the rules don’t really apply to guys like you, do they?”

“Ana, I’m really sorry about what I did. I was drunk. I didn’t know about you being …” I suck in a sharp breath and he peters off. I glance at his mother who doesn’t even have the sense to pretend she’s not watching this exchange like a hawk.

“Did your parents put you up to this?”

“No, I wanted—”

“You think you can smooth this over with an apology? Make it all go away?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do-”

“Bullshit. Let’s call this what it is—a last ditch effort to get me to drop the case. Which, by the way, is never ever going to happen. You might be walking around like a free man now, but when this trial happens you’re going away for a long time.” I point my finger at his forehead. “The man who did that happens to be in the exact same prison you’re about to call home, and I’ll bet everything I have he’s counting down the days until he sees you again.”

“Ana—”

I turn on my heel to walk away but Scott reaches out and grabs my arm. I rip it out of his grasp and seethe. “Don’t you dare touch me, you filthy pig.”

And then I quickly walk away, holding my head high. I stalk past the gawping faces of shoppers and past the cashier who’d been working that till since I was five years-old and out into the midday sunshine of the parking lot where my heart drops through my stomach and I promptly fall apart.

“Where’s the ice-cream?” Holly asks as I step into her bathroom and quickly shut the door behind me.

“Probably still on the supermarket floor,” I mutter and then elaborate when she sends me a curious look, “I ran into Scott.”

“Holy fuck, Ana! Are you okay?”

“Oddly, I think I am. Or at least I will be.” I sit down beside her and she leans her head on my shoulder before handing me a pregnancy test. I glare at the little plus sign like it personally offends me. “So you went and got yourself a Mini Coop, huh?”

She lets out a humourless laugh at my terrible joke and bursts into tears. I throw my arm around her shoulders. “Hey, we’ll get through this together. We’ll get a house, sell pies by the side of the road and raise this kid together.”

“I’m not keeping it,” she whispers.

“You sure this is what you want?”

“Come on, Ana, you really think I’m Mummy material?”

“I think it doesn’t matter what I think. If you want to do this, I’ll be there with you. If not, I’ll help you look into your options.”

“I already made the appointment.”

“When?” I slide my fingers through hers and clasp her hand tight, the way we used to do when we were little and our only worries in life were running away from boys in the playground trying to catch us in a game of catch-and-kiss.

“Monday week.”

“I’m driving you.”

“Okay.” She rests her head on my shoulder again and we stay like that until the sky outside the window turns dark and her parents call us down for dinner.

My eyes dart around the visitors’ room and I scan every face before finally coming to rest on a familiar pair of clear, blue eyes, so much like his daughter’s. Bob sits at a round table, his chunky arms folded against his chest and a wistful smile on his face. I know he’s thinking I wish he wasn’t sitting there alone, but when they said I had a visitor today I wouldn’t let myself believe it would be her. I’m not sure my heart could handle that hope being crushed once I found out she hadn’t come. Still, it’s good to see a familiar face.

I smile and the cut on my lip opens up again. It’s probably a good thing she hasn’t come. I’m already sporting a fat lip and a nasty cut over my left eyebrow from the shit storm of a fight in the yard yesterday. I don’t need to land myself in any more trouble, and beating the other prisoners’ faces in for looking at my woman the wrong way could see my parole offer for good behaviour revoked.

The guard plonks me down in the seat opposite Bob and moves to stand near the wall to watch over his band of criminals.

“How you doing, son?” Bob asks and his eyes zero in on my face.

“Can’t complain, no one would fucking listen.” I smile and hiss when my lip opens up again.

“They treating you alright?”

“What, this?” I point to my face. “Just a couple of playground bullies. They got theirs, and now they’re both in isolation. I’m keeping my nose clean, though.”

“Good, good.” Bob nods. His eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking long and hard about something, and then he snaps his attention back to me and says, “I brought you something.”

“It’s not a gorgeous blonde is it?”

“No. But it’s a picture of one.” He glances at the guard and indicates with his hands that he’s going to pull something out of his pocket before reaching in and placing three photos on the table before us. The first is one of Sammy and Ana huddled on the couch, stuffing their faces full of popcorn. Their attention is focused away from the camera, it’s a candid side-on shot. Ana’s not wearing any make up, her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she has popcorn all down the front of her shirt, but there’s a smile on her face that’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Sammy’s head is in her lap and her hand rests gently against his hair. There’s so much love in that one tiny gesture that my heart practically splits open. I miss her so goddamn much.