World: Modernity
Scene: chez Emerson, somewhere near Boston, 2002
Players: Jessica = Sarah, Mark = Abby
Jessica sits on her bed, staring at nothing in particular. Though it's a hot day, she is wearing a long-sleeved shirt.
Presently there is a tap on her door. "Hey, Jess?"
She does not respond, hoping that her brother will get the hint and go away.
"Jessie?" After a minute's silence, the door opens and Mark peers inside. "Oh, you are here."
Jessie glares irritably. "What do you want?"
Mark leans easily on the doorframe. "Not a lot. Don't go and have kittens. Mom wanted -- aren't you sweltering?"
"No. Now get out."
"I'm not in," he says peaceably. "Mom wants to know are you coming to dinner with us."
Jessie clambers out of bed and walks over to the door. "No. Now move."
Mark fails to comply. "Okay, what'd I do this time?"
"God, do you have to be such an ass?"
"Yes," Mark says serenely, "yes, I do. It runs in the family, not to mention the gender. Why are you pissed off at me today?"
Jessie crosses her arms. "I'm not. I just want you to go away."
He studies her quietly. "You say that every time I see you."
"And you haven't gone away yet."
"Come on, Jess."
"What?"
Mark drums his fingers on the doorjamb for a moment. "You never used to hate my guts particularly. Don't you think it's worth telling me why you do now, on the off chance that I'll mend my ways?"
Jessie rolls her eyes and absent-mindly pushes up her right sleeve. There is a nice collection of scars, some faded, others fresh, on her wrist.
Mark blinks, and reaches for her hand. "What's--"
"Shit!" Jessie's eyes widen and she puts her hand behind her back.
Swiftly, he steps inside and shuts the door behind him, by reflex, it seems. His eyes have darkened, but his tone is calm. "Spill, Jess."
Jessie is clearly frightened. "It's nothing, Mark. I just scratched myself."
"Okay. Let's take a look at it."
"NO!" Jessie yells.
"Jessie," he says gently. "Jessie-girl. Talk to me."
Jessie turns away so that Mark won't see her start to cry. "I'm fine."
"The hell you say," still quiet. Mark pushes a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ, Jess... Jess. It's okay. It'll be okay. --C'mere." He holds out an arm, awkwardly.
Jessie doesn't move for a few minutes then she spins around and buries her face into Mark's chest. She cries quietly.
Mark hugs her gently, smoothing her hair. "Jessie, Jessie, Jessie. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."
"No, it isn't. It won't stop hurting."
"Sit down," he says after a heartbeat, and nudges her toward the bed. "Tell me."
She sits down numbly. Quietly. "It started with the baby."
"Oh, God." Mark lets go a breath, and comes over to sit beside her. "When was this?"
She shrugs. "God, November, I think. Lupe took me to... to get it taken care of around Christmas."
He's quiet for a minute. "I see."
Jessica sighs quietly. "Then... things just got fucked."
Mark bites his tongue. "Yeah?"
"It's just. Well. Lupe and I were weird for awhile, but I think we're okay. And with Tad - I don't know. Nothing bad or anything. Just. Different."
His face tightens slightly at mention of Tad, but he hasn't been living with Stephen all this time for nothing. "Different how?"
She gestures vaguely. "I don't even know how to say it. Sometimes it's like old times and sometimes... we seem so far away from each other."
"Did you tell him what happened?"
She nods. "He was wonderful about it." She leaves out the part where Tad accused her of sleeping around because he didn't really mean it, right?
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Really. He was."
Mark looks at the wall for a minute. "What constitutes 'wonderful'?" still mildly.
"He was very supportive and said he'd accept whatever decision I made about it," Jessica replies a bit defensively.
"Okay." Mark keeps his tone neutral. Gently, he takes her wrist. "What's the rest?"
Jessica flinches and tears her wrist away. "Because the thoughts in my head won't go away."
"Like...?"
She lowers her head. "I murdered my child. And everywhere I go, I see it. Or hear it inside my head. And it hurts so much."
"Jesus, Jessie!" As if to make up for this explosion, he puts an arm around her again. "Have you talked to anybody about this?"
"Tad. But I don't think he really gets how bad I feel."
"No. He wouldn't." And then, less judgmentally, "I don't. I don't think I can. But-- you should talk to somebody, Jess, you shouldn't have to deal with this by yourself."
"And end up in a straitjacket like Uncle Dick? Screw that."
"What's he got to do with it?"
Jessica gives her brother her patented 'God, you are so stupid' look.
Mark waits, patiently.
"If I tell someone, they'll drug me up and lock me away for the rest of my life."
"No, they won't. If someone tries, I'll tell them to fuck off. This is the twenty-first century, Jessie. You don't get locked away for having an abortion, and unless you're really out of control, I don't think you get locked away for messing yourself up. If you don't want to talk to a doctor, then at least talk to Stephen, or Lupe, or somebody who knows better what to say to you than I do." There is pain in his voice, behind the brusque practicality.
Jessica says quietly, "Lupe doesn't understand, either. She thinks it's a phase."
"A phase."
"Yeah." Jessica looks at the floor.
"In so many words?" Mark says gently. He is acquainted with Jessica's idiosyncratic thought processes, and despite his general opinion of her friends, Lupe struck him as somewhat sensible.
"She didn't actually say that. She just suggested I cut on the vein."
Mark pushes a hand through his hair, frowning. "Then somebody. Look, I'll help you with this."
"What can you do?" It is not an insult.
He shrugs. "Find you a doctor who'll treat you like a human being. Keep Mom and Dad off your back. Listen if you want to talk."
"What if I can't be fixed?"
Mark looks at her more gently than he has in years, and after a moment hugs her awkwardly. "You're not broken, kiddo. Just kinda battered."
Jessica hugs him back. "Don't tell Mom and Dad?"
"No chance. Don't worry."
She holds on to him, sniffling a bit. "Thanks."
"'course." He rubs her back lightly.
Jessica moves away from him after a bit. "Didn't you say Mom wanted something?"
Mark lets her go. "We were going out to dinner, and I'm probably going to be leaving from there. She wanted to know if you're coming along." He glances at her long sleeves, and adds, as if he doesn't know how to reassure her, "It'll probably be air-conditioned."
"Oh." Jessica smiles slightly. "Tell me I need to brush my hair and I'll be down."
"Okay." Mark tousles her hair and stands up. "See you shortly."
Jessica ducks automatically. "Kay."
He smiles a bit, and goes out.