Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC. L'âme en fleur by Victor-Marie Hugo.
Author's Thank You: To everyone who's reviewing, whether it's for one chapter or all of 'em. I appreciate every word you've written me. I'm incredibly honored (and humbled) by the reaction to this story.
CHAPTER 14
THE CHAINED LADY
Hyde awoke, still feeling Jackie in his arms. But when he tightened his hold on her, all he hugged was mattress. His fists clutched the thin comforter, and his mouth let out a loud curse. He didn't have to roll onto his side to know the motel's dingy walls would be staring back at him; the ABBA song was playing from the clock radio.
He sat up with a groan and shut it off. Then he hunched over his knees, laced his fingers behind his head. "My life's a living hell..."
His frustration paralyzed him, kept him from moving or thinking—until Bob's broken voice tumbled through his mind like falling rocks: "You saw her body, Red. You saw what that murderer did to my baby!"
Hyde's body straightened, his arm whipped out, and he grabbed the phone. He dialed the Pinciottis' and a heavy, relieved breath escaped him when Donna picked up.
"Hello?" she said.
"It's Hyde."
"Hyde? Oh, my God! How's Chicago? Are you with Jackie?"
"Uh..." Her voice made him shut his eyes and grip the receiver hard. She was alive, man.
Fuck, she had another chance... and so did he.
"Hyde?" she said. "Are you still there?"
"Yeah, man... Yeah." His first instinct was to apologize for being a dick to her yesterday, for what he helped push her toward, but she didn't remember anything about it. Apologizing would only make her think he was a headcase. "I'm not in Chicago anymore," he said. "Me and Jackie had a... misunderstanding. But everything'll be cool once I get back home."
"Oh, come on. You gotta give me more than that."
He sighed and told her exactly what he found in Chicago, about him showing up just before Jackie and Kelso were gonna screw each other.
"She what?" Donna's anger was palpable from the other end of the phone. "Hyde, how can you say everything will be 'cool'?"
"I..." His brow furrowed though she couldn't see it. Whenever he'd told her about Jackie and Kelso before, she hadn't believed him right away. But now she accepted it straight-off. Huh. Maybe he'd told it to her differently those times. Maybe his voice sounded more convincing this morning. Or maybe she was more apt to believe something she heard over the phone.
Whatever. She was clearly pissed today, and she said, "If I'd found Eric with some other girl, I'd wanna rip his balls off." .
"Look," he said and and scratched the back of his neck, "Jackie was scared outta her mind, okay? I drove her to it. She had no way out."
"I don't care. I don't."
"Donna—"
"Why am I the only one who's mad about this?"
"You're pissed about something else, too."
She hesitated, making a strange, pinched sound before answering. "Yeah..."
"It sucks Forman went off to fix his mistakes alone instead of trying to figure it out with you."
"Thank you!" she said. "God, I'm so sick of people telling me 'It's for the best, pumpkin.' Well, I don't think so. Eric does all these things, makes these decisions without me... that affect me."
"Yeah, I know." Hyde's muscles tensed up, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He didn't know what else to say about it, especially not on the damn phone. It was hard enough to speak about crap in person, let alone to a disembodied voice. "Listen," he said, "I'm gonna hit the road soon. We can shoot the shit when I get back, all right?"
"When do you think you'll get here?" she said.
"'Bout an hour."
"Okay... Thanks, Hyde."
"Sure." His muscles relaxed a little—then tensed worse than before. "One thing, though," he said. "You gotta promise me you won't go anywhere near Burlington or the Le Motel today. Heard from the cops there's a psycho skulking around there. Name's the Wisconsin Waster."
"The Wisconsin Waster?"
"Yeah, the guy's responsible for a bunch of rape-murders. The fuzz is trying to keep it quiet. Mass hysteria, all that."
"Oh." She was quiet for a moment. "Well, I hope they catch the misogynist bastard."
"Don't go to the motel," he repeated.
"I won't, believe me. Last time I went, I was with Casey. Don't need to relive that—and get killed in the process."
"Good." His muscles relaxed again. That was what he wanted to hear.
8:12 A.M.
The Camino was parked in the motel's parking lot, like every morning the past nine months. And seeing her there made Hyde feel almost the same relief as hearing Donna's voice. He'd been without his baby all day yesterday, and he patted her shiny black hood.
8:22 A.M.
Hyde was brawling with Chad at the Mazda-S.U.V. accident. The fucker fought the same way each time, which gave Hyde the advantage. He didn't want to break Chad's jaw this time—and leave too much evidence for an assault charge—so he relied on body blows more than usual. Punches to the stomach and kidney stunned Chad enough for Hyde to knock him to the ground. From there, Hyde was able to put him to bed.
The fight had lasted six minutes. Chad would have a black eye and a headache when he regained consciousness, but Hyde's face didn't have a scratch. His left shoulder had taken the brunt of a blow meant for his chin. Definitely was gonna bruise-up, but whatever. Hyde was standing; that fucker wasn't.
He didn't wanna risk losing the Camino today. So instead of driving the S.U.V. to Pine Avenue, he drove it past the trees on the highway shoulder and parked it there. That cleared up the worst part of the bottleneck, leaving only Mr. Hobart's small Mazda—with his dying wife and unborn kid inside.
8:40 A.M.
Hyde drove the Camino to Pine Avenue and called the ambulance. As always, he waited the six minutes. Yeah, the outcome was the same each time, but he needed to see the ambulance show up, to be sure the Hobarts would get to the hospital.
8:48 A.M.
"What do you want, Steven? I mean, what do you really want?"
In the Camino, a few minutes from the Formans', Jackie's words from yesterday cut through his mind. It was his own question, the one he'd told her to ask the day he'd gone nuts. He needed to answer it. Because Jackie was right, man. She wasn't enough.
And she was right about something else: Even if he made it tomorrow, he'd still be living the days the same damn way—whether Sunday or Monday or whatever—unless he figured out what he wanted out of his fucking life.
8:51 AM.
Donna smiled brightly the moment Hyde stepped into the basement, and his own lips responded in kind. Hearing her voice was one thing; seeing her face, another.
"Hey," she said. "You look happy."
"Oh, I'm swell," he said with mock-enthusiasm. His Zen was barely established yet, and he didn't want her to spot the holes in his defenses. "What's not to be happy about?" He sat on the couch beside her and patted her knee. Yup. Solid.
Donna pointed an accusing finger at him. "Okay, what the hell is really going on? First you're 'cool' with Jackie almost cheating on you, and now you're all smiley? How much did you smoke this morning?"
Crap. He hadn't realized he was still smiling and forced his lips into a tight frown. "You wanna know what's really goin' on? Fine." He told her the story of waking up 279 times on September 8th, 1979. "I've had nine months to get over Chicago, man. Nine damn months."
"Okay, Hyde. Okay." She was giggling like he'd just tickled her. "I'll stop asking."
"It's all true." He checked his watch. It was 8:55 A.M. "I'll prove it. You see that commercial for the Lego 'Space Set'?" He nodded at the TV. "Well, I've seen it before."
"So? They play that, like, all the time."
"Yeah, but I've seen it on September 8th, 1979 at eight-freakin'-fifty-five in the morning." He got off the couch, took the notepad and pen from the shelves under the stairs. Then he returned to his seat next to her. He could've sat in his chair, but he needed that physical closeness to her right now. "I've been here with you a couple of times, and I pretty much know exactly what's gonna happen."
He tapped his teeth with the pen, tried to remember the name of the Bugs Bunny cartoon. He got it and wrote down:
9:00 A.M. The Bugs Bunny/Road Runner Show. False Hare. Uncle Big Bad.
9:06 A.M. Barbie ad. Girly-ass motorhome.
9:06 A.M. Electronic basketball game ad.
9:07 A.M. Toys R Us ad.
9:08 A.M. Sugar Crisp cereal ad.
9:09 A.M. Zipping Along. Wile E. Coyote is a moron. Grenade. Kite. Canyon. TNT.
9:14 A.M. Jackie. Navy blue top, white anchors.
Hyde flipped the page, and Donna peered over at the pad. "What are you writing?" she said.
"Hold your freakin' horses, woman!"
He turned his back on her. On the second page, he wrote: "Nothing happened, okay? Nothing. I am so sorry about what happened in Chicago. I was alone, and I thought I'd lost you."
He faced Donna and ripped off the top page. "This one you can read now," he said and handed it to her. As she started to read, he ripped off the second page and folded it up. "Stick this one in your pocket. You'll know when to look at it."
She stuffed the folded-up paper into her jeans pocket and eyed him suspiciously. "I'm not gullible like Kelso, you know—"
"I know."
"—so don't think you'll burn me with this." She waved the first sheet of paper at him.
"It's not a burn." He tossed the pad and pen onto the spool table. Then he checked his watch again. "Two minutes."
At 9:00 A.M. the Looney Tunes theme music played from the TV's speaker. The screen soon showed the cartoon's title in large red letters: False Hare.
"Lucky guess," Donna said and glanced down at the paper.
Hyde smirked.
Once the cartoon finished, the saccharine-voiced commercial for the Barbie "Star Traveler" motorhome came on. Donna was now staring at him but didn't concede. "Coincidence."
"Uh-huh..." He leaned back and propped his feet up on the table. Donna's mouth opened slightly at the electronic basketball game ad—and opened wider at the Toys R Us ad that followed. "Told ya," he said.
"Whatever," she said. But when the ad for Sugar Crisp cereal played next, she slammed her fist into Hyde's left shoulder, sending pain through his arm and up his neck.
"Fuck!" He cupped his shoulder protectively and tried to distance himself from the pain. His nerve endings were burning. She'd frogged him directly on the bruise Chad gave him.
"Oh, God! Hyde, I'm sorry!" She curled and uncurled her fists and studied them. "I must be jacked up from being mad at Eric."
"Wasn't you," he said and dragged up his sleeve. His shoulder was already violet from Chad's punch.
Donna touched his skin gently, but even that gentle touch stung. "Kelso?"
"Nope." He pushed his sleeve back down.
"Your m—" She interrupted herself and looked a little spooked. But he had no idea why or what she'd originally wanted to say. "So who was it?"
"Got into a little fight," he said. "Other guy's worse." He gestured to the TV. "Did I tell ya, or did I tell ya?"
Wile E. Coyote was at it again with the kite strapped to his back and a bomb in his hands. He crashed off a cliff and got blown up by his bomb.
"Now that's a burn," Hyde said and chuckled.
Donna crossed her arms. "I'm not buying it. The TV Guide must have told you or something."
"Even the commercials?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she kept glancing at her watch as Wile E. Coyote failed repeatedly to destroy the Road Runner.
Right on time, at 9:14 A.M., the basement door banged open. A barely audible "No," escaped Donna's throat as she angled her head toward the door.
"Steven?" Jackie's worried voice pierced his chest, but he couldn't answer her. Not yet. He needed events to unfold as they normally did. "Ste—Oh, my God..." She rushed to the couch, hugged him around the neck, and thrust herself onto his lap.
"Navy blue top, white anchors," Donna whispered.
"Nothing happened, okay?" Jackie was crying into his cheek. Her tears cracked open his ribs, soaked his heart, but he still couldn't answer her. "Nothing."
Donna pulled the folded-up paper from her pocket.
"I am so sorry about what happened in Chicago," Jackie said and hugged Hyde even tighter. Donna mouthed Jackie's next words along with her: "I was alone, and I thought I'd lost you."
"No way... No freakin' way!" Donna shouted, and Jackie twisted around in Hyde's lap. Donna was pointing at her and Hyde both. "You set this up, didn't you? Jackie, spill it."
"Shut up, Donna!" Jackie shouted back. "I need to talk to Steven." She faced him. "Baby—"
Finally, Hyde could do what he'd been waiting to. His hands slid up her back to her hair. It had only been a few hours since he'd held her, but it felt too long. "Jackie—" Pain bit into his shoulder, made his left hand retreat down to her waist. "Chicago's just a memory."
"What do you mean?" she said. Her eyes were searching his face, and he cursed inwardly. He should've kept his shades off. "Steven, what are you talking about? You just—"
"I love you." The words left his mouth easily. She couldn't hurt him anymore with them, and holding them back would only hurt her.
But she wasn't smiling. "If this a joke, Steven..." fresh tears welled in her eyes, and her fingers gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, "a cruel, cruel joke, I'll—"
He stood up with her, needed some room to maneuver. Her hands dropped limply to his hips but didn't let go of him, and he used her pliability to bring their bodies flush together. He began to lay thick kisses along her jawline, and her hold on him grew tighter again, but he couldn't prolong this. Donna was his priority today, and he had to keep her from fleeing the basement.
He reached Jackie's lips and kissed them tenderly, dipping his tongue in just for a taste, before withdrawing his mouth completely. Kissing her still didn't fully feel right, but his concern about it was drowned by a stronger emotion.
He took off his shades, hooked them on his shirt. Then he locked his hands on the sides of her face and gazed deeply into her eyes. She was too damn beautiful, even as shocked as she looked right now, and the sight of her almost screwed him over.
"Jackie, I..." The pounding in his chest threatened to make him non-verbal, but he forced his emotion into words. "I'm more fucking in love you now than I was yesterday," he said. "And we're gonna get hitched, but not today."
A smile finally surfaced on her face. It looked as if she was trying to smooth it out, but she failed. "Wh-why?" she said. Her body was shaking. "Why are you telling me this now, after—?"
He glanced over at Donna, who was sitting in Fez's chair, examining the paper he'd given her. "I've had a lot of time to think," he said.
"Okay..." Jackie sounded unsure, and her trembling had grown worse.
He enfolded her deeply in his arms, hoping this would calm her down, and whispered by her cheek, "Donna's goin' through a rough time... I gotta give her today, but you'll get tomorrow. I promise, small grasshopper, you'll get it."
"S-sure, Puddin'." She placed a few soft kisses on the ridge of his ear before slipping from his arms. But she grabbed his hand and gave it squeeze as she turned toward Fez's chair. "Donna," she said, "I hope you feel better." Then, without any fanfare or demands, she let him go and left the basement. .
Hyde stared at the basement door a moment after it closed. The skin of his ear was tingling where Jackie's lips had made contact. Those kisses she gave him almost felt like a thank-you—or an acknowledgment of how he'd treated her last night. It made him curious. Did his behavior each September 8th have some lasting effect on the people around him? No way she would've left so easily on day 1. He'd bet his left 'nad on it.
And what she'd said to Donna on her way out: "I hope you feel better..." It was as if some unconscious part of her remembered yesterday—'cause Donna sure as hell hadn't mentioned Forman to her, not today. Hyde nodded thoughtfully. Huh. Maybe he'd finally discovered something useful.
"Wow, Hyde." Donna was watching him with wide eyes. "You're so different... You've changed," her fists pumped in the air for emphasis, "matured." Then she stood up with the paper, stepped toward him. "Maybe you're telling the truth. Maybe you have spent the last nine months in the same day. Or maybe—" she slammed the paper into his chest, pushing him into the couch, "you're full of shit."
"Maybe I'm both." He grabbed her hand firmly because he still needed to feel her solidity, just to make absolutely sure she was alive. "Come on," he said and pulled her toward the basement door, "I'll give ya a chance to find out."
10:08 A.M.
After a quick stop to the bank—where Hyde withdrew a thousand bucks—he and Donna picked up some snacks from the Piggly Wiggly. They were eating in the Camino, and Donna seemed more amused than annoyed. More importantly, she seemed willing to hang out with him today. He told her about some of the things he'd done during the nine months, including his search for Chrissy and how junked-up she was.
"That's awful," Donna said sincerely. Then she flinched. "Damn it! I don't believe I'm believing you." Her hands clutched her knees, and she gazed down at them. "I'm not. I refuse to believe this, Hyde. Your story is ridiculous. Your behavior toward Jackie isn't you—unless you're trying to burn the hell out of her. Which," she moved her gaze back to him, "you should totally be doing because she deserves it."
Hyde's stomach tightened. His impulse was to shove Donna's anger back at her, tell her it was Forman she was really pissed at 'cause Jackie had been burned enough. But he crumpled up the bag of potato chips he'd been eating from and tossed it out the Camino's window. "You ready to go?" he said.
"Where are we going?"
"Mt. Hump Stables."
"For what?" Donna started to laugh. "Are you planning on letting the horses loose—so they can trample the humpers in the park? Who are, you Kelso?"
"I'm gonna ride one," he said and started up the Camino's engine. He pulled out of the Piggly Wiggly's parking lot.
She smiled at him. "You're gonna ride a humper? Now you sound like Fez."
"A horse, man. A horse. Whatever. You wanna take a lesson with me? I'll pay." His neck felt hot; he was a little embarrassed asking... Donna had taken two years of lessons when she was a kid.
Her laughter grew stronger. "You on a horse? Oh, this I have to see."
10:30 A.M.
The arena inside of Mt. Hump Stables smelled like dirt and hay, and Hyde and Donna were standing by the mounting block. He felt like an idiot already. The stables required all riders to wear round, black helmets that resembled bowling balls. He must've looked like a freakin' botard in it, but the sight was cracking Donna up, so it was worth it—despite his urge to rip the helmet off and chuck it at her.
Their instructor was a thirty-something chick named Debbie. She and a stable girl, who couldn't be more than twelve, brought out two horses for them. Donna was able to mount her horse, "Paint," without help. The two years of lessons she'd had were kicking in, apparently.
Hyde, however, needed Debbie's verbal and physical support to get on his horse. Even without a bruised shoulder, getting on would've been tough. The horse, "Caraway," was a bitch. It wouldn't stand completely still as he stuck his boot into the stirrup. Kept lifting up a leg and stomping it down. But he was eventually able to pull himself onto Caraway's saddle and get both feet into the stirrups.
As the lesson began, Donna had no problem directing Paint where to go. It was a brown horse with a white streak down the front of its muzzle, and it calmly walked where she directed it with the reins—hell, Paint acted like it had smoked some of Hyde's stash.
Hyde's horse, though, kept walking straight when he pulled the reins to go left. It kept putting its ears back and tried to bite the other horses in the arena. The sounds it made annoyed him—the nickers, the snorting. Trying to keep the thing from running off with him made his shoulder hurt, and he felt totally out of control. After fifteen minutes he yanked the reins tightly to get Caraway to stop, and the fucking horse almost threw him off. It reminded him of that crazy brown-eyed chick in Rhinelander. She'd bucked him, too.
"Yeah, I'm done," he said to Debbie and gripped the saddle's pommel with both hands.
"But you paid for an hour," she said.
He scowled at her. "Do I look like I give a shit?"
She grabbed the reins from him and led Caraway back to the mounting block. He dismounted ungracefully as Donna rode Paint nearby.
"Don't be a quitter, Hyde," Donna said. She patted Paint's thick, muscled neck. "I'm really enjoying this."
"So enjoy it. I'll wait for you outside."
He headed for the reception area, and Debbie called after him, "Chickens have no business riding horses!"
It was a good burn. Even so, he clenched his fists to keep from giving her the finger.
10: 52 A.M.
Horseback riding was out, and Hyde was pissed. Maybe if he'd gotten the baked horse that Donna was riding, things would've turned out differently. Whatever. He hated horses to begin with—nice to know that hatred was justified.
He was standing by the payphone in the reception area, and he dialed up the Point Place Police Department. Not his favorite thing to do—unless he was pulling a burn on Kelso—but it was necessary. He took a deep, calming breath as the phone rang. A deep-voiced cop answered after two rings.
"Yeah, uh... the Wisconsin Waster's gonna be at the Le Motel in Burlington, today," Hyde said. "Could be there now. Definitely will be there around one or one-thirty this afternoon."
"How the hell do you know that?" the cop said.
"You really wanna take the chance I'm lying and let another chick get knifed?" Hyde pulled the receiver from his ear and hung up. The call would have to be enough.
11:34 A.M.
"I need a shower," Donna said. She was standing outside the stables with Hyde and sniffing her shirt.
"You don't smell that bad," he said, a flat-out lie. He couldn't risk bringing her back home to Kelso and Fez. Her nailing either one of 'em today wasn't an option. "Anyway, chick at the reception desk told me of a place down the road, called the Prairie Café. They give a discount to customers who stink."
Donna shoved him forward on the dirt path, "You're so full of horseshit," but quickened her pace to walk beside him. "You should have stuck it out on Caraway."
He peered up at the sky and sighed. It was bright and blue. The few wispy clouds looked like smoke curling off a joint.
"Come on," she said and gave his right shoulder a nudge. "It's fun! Like driving a car."
"That was nothing like driving a car."
"So why did you want to try it?"
He didn't answer. The trees surrounding the path were full and green. Their leaves weren't turning yet. Nine months of the same season, man. It was boring... and a little strange.
Not that he liked Wisconsin winters. But fall was cool. He and Jackie used to jump into the piles of leaves Forman raked up in the yard. Sometimes Hyde would toss her into one and dive in afterward, snuggling into her as she giggled and brushed her gloved fingers through his hair.
The air was chilled and biting in those days, but his body sheltered her from it—so if her cheeks flushed, it wasn't from the cold. And when he kissed her in those mountains of leaves, the smell of wet earth would fill his nostrils, and the warm taste of her filled his mouth.
But before Red could stomp to the yard and discover the mess they'd made of Forman's work, Hyde always pulled Jackie to the safety of the basement. The only evidence of their crime was their laughter... and the bits of nature stuck in their hair and clothes. But Jackie made short work of the latter by picking out the twigs and leaves from both of them.
Outside of the circle, Hyde never laughed as hard as he did with her. Sometimes he couldn't stop, and it felt like his stomach and throat would explode. But she got turned by his laughter, so extra-added bonus. Another bonus: Forman usually got blamed for the messed-up yard by Red.
Those were good days.
"Hyde?" Donna was tapping him. "Why'd you want to go horseback riding?"
He shut his eyes and reopened them. The leaves were green again. "For Jackie," he said.
"Still not buying it. You ever gonna tell me the truth?"
"Sure." He smirked. Donna's curiosity was as strong as her fists. "But you gotta stick with me today."
"I plan on it," she said with a nod, "because I can't wait to see what else you're going to do. I never knew sober-Hyde could be so fascinating."
"Yeah, yeah. Save your sarcasm."
"I'm being completely serious." She kicked a pebble in the road, and it flew out to the trees. "I've known you, like, my whole life. And this is the strangest you've ever acted."
He kicked a bigger stone, jagged and the size of a plum, but it skidded along the dirt. "No, it's not. I've been weirder." Reading Jackie's diary had taught him that, and Donna hadn't seen him the day he cut his wrist open. "Sometimes I surprise myself."
11:42 A.M.
The Prairie Café was as tacky a restaurant as they made 'em. Framed photos of horses hung on the wall along with some cowboy hats and a curled-up lasso. The top of the booth seats were curved like saddles, country music filtered in through the sound system—a Charlie Daniels song, and Hyde found it pathetic he knew that.
Donna was sitting across from him, and they were both flipping through the café's too-long menu. The food had names like "Wild West" chicken wings and "Buffalo" bacon.
"'Stallion' sausage?" she said. "We've so got to bring Fez here."
A few minutes later, Hyde decided on the "Buckin' Bronco" burger, but Donna was frowning.
"This thing is freakin' huge!" she said and shut the menu. "The words are beginning to look like gibberish to me."
"Just have a burger."
She grunted and resumed her search through the menu. But when the waitress came to their table, Donna let him order first then said, "Make that two."
A Willie Nelson song began to play from the café's speakers, and Donna's finger traced a squiggle on the table. A map of Wisconsin, marked with various horse trails, sat beneath the clear surface. "What do you know about that psycho?" she said quietly.
"You mean Kooky Karl?" Hyde said, knowing full-well who she really meant. "Think he was in Viet Nam. Maybe the new Asian checkout girl at the Piggly Wiggly scared him off. "
"No, the Waster. What does he do to the women he kills?" She was looking directly at him now and rubbing her wrist. "And don't say 'I don't know' because I can see it on your face. Those cops gossiped about it like Jackie, didn't they? "
"You really wanna lose your appetite?"
"I'm a big girl, Hyde."
He scratched his cheek and glanced away. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about, but he lowered his voice and said, "The whackadoo likes to carve the chicks up, okay? Like a freakin' turkey."
Donna suddenly went pale and froze.
"Donna?" He touched the top of her hand, but she yanked it away. "Hey, you all right?"
"What?" She blinked then stared at her her palms. Her gaze traveled up each arm, and finally the color returned to her face. "Oh. I was just imagining..." She took a deep breath. "Do you think the cops'll get the bastard today?"
"Hope so."
"Yeah..." She nodded slightly. "Yeah."
12:38 P.M.
After lunch, they walked the half-mile back to the stables where the Camino was parked. But before Hyde even put the car into first gear, Donna was rifling through his duffel bag.
"What the hell are you doin'?" he said and tried to drag the bag off her knees. But he gave up fast and put his hand back on the steering wheel. He'd already died twice while driving. That was enough.
"I need a fresh shirt." She yanked out his yellow Rolling Stones shirt and sniffed it. Her nose wrinkled. "What did you do, have a sleepover with Kooky car?" She pulled out his red Allman Brothers Band shirt and stuffed the Stones one deep into the bag.
"I went on a bender last night... nine months ago."
She threw back her head and laughed. "God, Hyde! You're still on that?"
"Yup."
"Well, you're persistent; I'll give you that."
She turned her back to him and began to take off her shirt. Definitely not something she'd normally do. He kept from looking at her side-mirror, from catching a glimpse of her breasts. Body-privacy was usually important to her, much to Kelso and Fez's frustration. But today was different, man. Today she didn't give a shit, and he knew why.
Once his shirt was on her, she said, "So where are you taking me now?"
"The University of Wisconsin-Parkside."
She crossed her arms. "I'm not enrolling, so don't bother."
"Who asked you to? We're going for me."
"You?" Her arms uncrossed, and her surprise was reflected in the review mirror. "You're going to college?"
"Kinda."
1:30 P.M.
"Monsieur Hyde?"
Mrs. Trevor, a plump French instructor, finally let Hyde and Donna into her office—after a half-hour wait. Her desk was covered in papers, pictures of France, and a vase of tiger lilies. Hyde sat at a chair in front of it, but Donna remained standing for a minute. She seemed intrigued by the flowers, and her fingertips caressed the petals as Mrs. Trevor pulled out a schedule book.
"How can I help you today, Monsieur Hyde?" Mrs. Trevor said from behind the desk. "Are you a student here?"
"Uh... no." He rubbed the back of his neck and peered around her office. Places like this—cramped and stuffed with learning materials—always made him uncomfortable. A large poster of the Eiffel Tower was taped to the back wall. A bookshelf contained a plastic bowl with chalk, a small blackboard, and lots of books. He suppressed a shudder. Not his scene, man. Not at all. "I gotta learn how to recite a Victor Hugo poem in French," he said. "Like, really good French. Not that Pepé Le Pew crap."
Mrs. Trevor nodded. "May I ask, which poem?"
"The Heart in Flower."
Donna chuckled, and he scowled at her, but Mrs. Trevor gasped and covered her heart. "Oh! L'âme en fleur! 'Mon bras pressait ta taille frêle et souple comme le roseau; ton sein palpitait comme l'aile d'un jeune oiseau.'"
Shit. Hyde was totally screwed if the poem was supposed to sound like that. She sounded like those pansies in the first—and only—artsy French film Jackie had dragged him to.
"I simply adore that poem," Mrs. Trevor said and pulled a thick, faded folder from her desk. She removed a copy of the poem with both the original French and English translation. Donna took it from her and read it silently to herself.
"Yeah, so how long will it take for me to learn that thing?" he said.
"You have to understand the poem in its original French to be able to recite it properly—" Mrs. Trevor covered her heart again, "with feeling.That could take anywhere from six months to two years, depending on your dedication and proficiency."
His shoulders slumped a little. Huh. Well, French was out, too.
She opened her schedule book to the page marked "8th Septembre, 1979" and sighed. Her generous rack puffed out with the effort, and her brown curly hair bounced. "Looks like I'm booked through today. I don't teach on Sundays, but I have an opening on Monday if you'd—"
"Would five-hundred bucks clear some of your schedule today?" He plucked a wad of bills from his denim jacket and tossed it onto her desk.
"Hyde!" Donna said. She sounded as astonished as Mrs. Trevor looked.
"Quand vous aiment votre rendez-vous?" Mrs. Trevor said, and he stared at her. She cleared her throat and smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. When would you like your appointment?"
"Never." He left the cash on the desk and stood up. "Just wanted to know if five-hundred bucks would make you sell out, man."
1:36 P.M.
Donna stopped Hyde a few feet outside the office. "Okay," she said, "what the hell was that?"
He shrugged. "Just trying to learn a few things."
"You never want to learn things."
"Sure I do." He started walking down the building's wide, open hallway, and she kept pace with him. "I enjoyed learning about Leo's stash from Hawaii, about Kelso nailing Forman's sister, 'bout Jackie kissing the Cheese Guy..."
"Yeah, but those are all—" She shook her head. "Seriously, what is going on with you today?"
"Told you already: I'm trying to get the fuck out of this day."
"By learning French and horseback riding?"
Hyde went silent. He couldn't tell her the truth, that he was gonna go all "Forman" on Jackie, give her everything she wanted for a wedding proposal—to the best of his ability. It wasn't going to include horseback riding or the poem in French... 'cause they were both too much work. But she'd get the sunlit mountain and the picnic.
Donna was waiting for an answer. He didn't wanna lie to her either, so he'd give her a truth—a reason why he was keeping her with him today. "You know how you were fondling those flowers back there?"
She flinched. "What?"
"Those tiger lilies, man. You were getting hot and heavy with 'em."
"Shut up, Hyde." She slapped his left shoulder, and pain radiated down his arm. It must have registered on his face because she apologized. "Sorry, I'm a little sensitive today."
"No shit." He shook his arm, hoping to make the pain dissipate faster. The bruise had screwed enough with his plans today. He had to do better at distancing himself from it.
Donna sucked in a breath and frowned. "They're my favorite flower, y'know? And Eric, that dillhole, didn't even get me a 'good-bye' bouquet before he left."
"Yeah, well, that's mostly why I'm doin' what I'm doin' today," he said, and she turned on him with narrow, questioning eyes. "You need a distraction."
"So your whole repeating-the-same-day-over story," she traced large circles around him with her fingers, "that's been for my benefit?"
"No, that's just the truth."
"Uh-huh."
They reached the entrance hall of the building. Students were hanging around, reading posters on the wall about college events, talking to each other about classes. A round clock hung above a student government poster, and the time read 1:41 P.M. No way of knowing if the cops had nabbed the Waster yet—or would at all. And Donna sounded like she wanted to bail...
Hyde had to keep her with him.
"Listen, I don't expect you to buy it," he said. "Hell, if it were Kelso trying to tell me this shit, I'd call him a liar and slug him in the eye."
"Okay, not a fair comparison." She gripped his arm as they walked out of the building, a good sign. "What if I were telling you this story, would you believe me?"
He smirked. "More than I'd believe Kelso."
"Let's leave it at that then," she said and squeezed his arm. "I believe you more than I'd believe Kelso—but two-times zero is still zero."
"Fair enough."
They were heading for the campus parking lot, and a gust of wind blew Donna's hair into her face. Hyde brushed a thick strand of it from her eyes and settled his hand on the nape of of her neck. She was as much family to him as Forman. The thought of her bein' dead... man, it was bugging the hell outta him.
"You wanna catch a movie?" he said. "Life of Brian's still playing."
She smiled and poked his cheek. "You're paying."
4:07 P.M.
Hyde brought Donna to the Shooting Star Motel after the movie. She hadn't wanted to go home yet, but he'd planned on bringing her here anyway. Warren, the concierge on duty, checked them into room 2-B at Hyde's request.
"I wake up here every morning," Hyde said once they were in the room. He pointed to the clock radio by the bed. "That bastard blasts the same ABBA song at 8:00 A.M."
Donna winced. "Ooh, that is a nightmare." Then she did a 360-turn and seemed to take in her new surroundings. "It's... cozy."
"Yeah, I've gotten used to it." He sat on the bed and unzipped his duffel bag. He pulled out his stash. "Wanna have a circle?"
"Maybe after a shower," she said and disappeared into the bathroom.
He took something else from his duffel bag—something they'd both need later—and stuck it into his jeans pocket. He had no clue how long her shower would take, but watching the TV was pointless. All the shows were nine-months-old to him. So he removed his boots, lay back on the bed, and shut his eyes.
Ten minutes later, he was fast asleep, but a sharp bounce on the mattress woke him. Donna was sitting beside him, blonde hair wet and combed back. She was still wearing his shirt—the same one Jackie had worn the day he totally lost it.
"You know what I'd do if I lived the same day over?" Donna said.
He didn't bother to sit up. "Call Red a dumbass or play all women's protest songs during your radio show?"
"I wasn't gonna say that, but that does sound a lot like me." Her eyes widened. "Oh, God—I think I'm starting to believe you." She leaned her head back and groaned. "What's wrong with me?"
He slid his hand over her denim-clad thigh. "You'll forget about it tomorrow."
"Really?" She grasped his hand. "So you remember everything, but everyone else forgets?"
"Mostly," he said. "But I think the sense of what happened might stick."
Donna twisted her body around on the bed so she was completely facing him. "You think I'll remember this?" She bent down and kissed him gently.
He didn't stop her. Had figured this was gonna happen, was waiting for it. His fingers swept into her wet hair, and he pulled her in for deeper contact. Better she do this with him than Kelso or some freakin' psycho who could hurt her. He was doing Forman a favor.
She withdrew from him but not too far. "Hyde, you said you wanted to distract me, right?"
He arched an eyebrow. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"No. I mean, I really need you to distract me." She climbed on top of him and sat so his hips were tight between her thighs. The weight and warmth of her body roused him into hardness immediately. Years ago, this was all he'd wanted, and he couldn't help but wonder if any of those feelings remained.
She grabbed the bottom of her shirt, which was really his shirt, and pulled it off her body. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts were in plain view. She placed his hands on them. They were soft and full, at least twice the size of Jackie's, and their feel against his palms didn't disgust him.
"Do you want to distract me?" She gripped his shoulders and began to grind into his growing erection. "'Cause it feels like you do."
Man, was that the kind of crap that got Forman off? Hyde suppressed a chuckle, not difficult to do considering the pressure on his bruised shoulder. He grasped her hips and stopped her from moving. "If we're gonna do this," he said, "we're doing it my way."
She smiled and climbed off him. They swiftly switched positions: She was on her back, and he lowered his body over her. He was keeping his clothes on for now. He didn't want this to go too fast.
"Hyde..." Donna's eyes glazed over with lust, and her fingers brushed through his hair impatiently. But he hesitated as he took in her face. Her body was unfamiliar ground. If she were some other girl, he wouldn't care.
But this was Donna.
He sat up briefly and pulled off his shirt, and her hands flew to his chest, exploring him and scratching lightly as he lowered himself back down. From that simple touch, his erection grew even more rigid. He hadn't been with a chick in four months; it had caught up with him.
He was supporting himself on his forearms and elbows now, which reduced the weight on his shoulder and pressed her breasts into his skin. The feeling was strange, almost like it was too close. But he didn't hate it. She smelled clean, like the soap from the motel bathroom, and he had no trouble bringing his lips to her bare flesh.
He left open-mouthed kisses on the hollow of her throat, and a quiet sound escaped her, like a whimper. Forman had told him—repeatedly, annoyingly—her neck was especially sensitive. And now Hyde was using that information to help dig her out of her hole. If that wasn't irony, he didn't know what was.
He softened his kisses as his lips went beneath her jaw and up behind her ear. He wanted her to feel good, not used. But he soon felt her tapping at his back.
"Hyde," she said.
"What?"
"Don't kiss me that way."
He raised himself over her body, hands on either side of her head, so that he could really look at her. But the pressure of his own weight sent burning heat into his shoulder. So he finally took a moment to separate himself from the pain. It was an old trick, learned out of necessity.
But Donna sounded like she was in pain herself, and he said quietly, "What way?"
"Like, you know..." her voice grew small, "like you love me."
He frowned, and his index finger hooked a thick strand of her hair. "Why the hell do you think I'm here?"
"But I thought you and Jackie—" She shut her eyes and exhaled sharply. "I thought you were doing this with me to get back at her. Y'know, for Kelso."
He let her hair slip from his finger. His first instinct was to bolt. A herd of guilt was stampeding toward him, but he ran through Kelso's description of Donna's mutilated body, and the herd galloped away. He shook his head. "Not doing this 'cause of Jackie."
"So all that lovey-dovey stuff to her this morning... it wasn't bullshit?"
"No."
Donna's gaze swept over her own body, "Then why are you...?"
"You need it."
She grabbed a tight fistful of his hair, "What I need is a fuck, Hyde. Okay?" and brought his head down for a rough kiss. Again, he didn't fight her. Their mouths widened together as her slick tongue pushed forcefully inside him, and the kiss deepened as much as possible. She never let him have full control, but he soon found her rhythm.
He maneuvered himself so he was straddling her hips, giving his hands freedom to wander her breasts. Forman had told him what she liked there, too, and the slow movements of his thumbs drove her breathing into short bursts. When his mouth enveloped one of her nipples, she moaned shallowly... whispered his name, whispered for freakin' God.
It was strange being this close to her, being the cause of those sounds. It was also the fulfillment of a thousand fantasies from when he was younger—and somewhat incestuous.
But, for now, he pushed those feelings aside and focused on her body. His freed-up hand drifted to the fly of her jeans and unbuttoned it. She gasped as he slipped his fingers inside her panties, into the hot moistness between her thighs. Man, this was weird, but the sensation of massaging her center—along with the deep moans issuing from her throat—hardened him further until his own jeans became tight and uncomfortable. He'd gone far too long without a chick... or maybe just too long without one he gave a shit about.
Donna was rocking her hips against his hand when she grasped the sides of his face. "Fuck me, Hyde. God—you've got to."
He spoke into the curve of her breast. "Okay." His own body was completely ready; his senses were in overdrive. He gave her lips a quick kiss before getting off the bed. Then he unbuckled his belt and pulled a rubber from his pocket—the one he'd put there earlier. Repeating day or not, he wasn't taking any chances. No damn way.
Donna was fully naked before his jeans hit the floor. His erection sprang from his boxers as he pushed them down, and she smiled at him with what seemed like admiration. Or maybe it was relief he could get hard with her.
He took the rubber from its wrapper and began to sheathe himself in it, but she gestured to him frantically. "No condom. I'm still on the pill."
"Donna, I'm using a rubber," he said and continued to unroll it up his shaft. He couldn't risk she was lying—or that this day might take. If he got her pregnant, it would screw them all so much worse.
He approached the bed again, and Donna's expression brightened. Her long legs spread apart her to let him settle between them. He wasn't going to fuck her. For the first time since Chicago, he was going to be with a girl who meant something to him. By that fact alone, this would be something more than a fuck... and the thought scared him a little.
Silently, she grasped the base of his erection and guided him to her entrance. He was hesitating, and she must have known it, but he had to do this for her—for Forman. He sank himself deep inside her, extracting a startled gasp from her lungs. But that escaping breath quickly turned into a satisfied groan.
His own breath grew heavy as he thrusted into her, but the feeling of her heat surrounding him kindled a cold fire in his veins. It crackled in his blood, threw off icy sparks that almost made him shiver. He didn't get it. Nothing like he'd ever experienced before.
Donna seemed happy enough, though. She'd wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his back, was hugging him to her body.
Hyde kept his cheek flush against hers as he glided in and out of her warmth. "What do you need?" he whispered. When she moaned in response, he slowed down his strokes. "Come on, Donna. Tell me what you need."
"Faster! God, Hyde—go faster!" Her nails dug into his back, and he increased his rhythm until her grip relaxed.
"What do you really need?" he said again. "'Cause it's not this... It's not me." And he kept on saying it as he drove her toward orgasm.
Finally, her wordless moans formed a word: "Eric!" and he thrusted harder. Her inner core was convulsing around him. "I need Eric!" she shouted.
Her arms and legs fell away from his body. She was shuddering uncontrollably, and silent tears spilled down her cheeks.
Hyde grew still as the cold fire inside him dwindled. It was as if his emotions and his body were on two different wavelengths. His heart was concerned like hell for Donna out of friendship. His body, though, was responding purely to the physical sensation of being inside a chick...
Not to Donna specifically. That was the strangeness he'd been feeling: His heart and his body weren't connected.
Donna was looking at him with wet eyes, and he found he had no interest in coming—not with her. He started to pull out, but she grabbed his shoulders. "Wait," she said "You can finish."
He took one of her hands off him and kissed her wrist. "Not here." Then he pulled out of her completely. His dick was still hard, but she was also still shaking. He couldn't leave her alone with what he'd brought out in her, so he held her quietly until her body relaxed—and his stones started to hurt. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said.
She stood up with him and looped an arm around his hips. "What you've just done for me, I want to give it back to you."
"Just don't go anywhere," he said. "That's how you can give back, okay? Just stick around."
She nodded.
He gathered up his clothes and went into the bathroom, rubber still on his hardened shaft. He kept it on so clean-up would be fast and easy. The door was locked now, and he leaned his back against it. Jackie was smiling behind his closed eyes, and thoughts of her—along with the use of his hand—propelled him into quick orgasm.
Donna was curled up on the bed when he returned to her. Like him, she'd put her clothes back on—including her own shirt. Unlike him, she was crying.
"Hey," he said softly. He wasn't sure if she wanted him to touch her anymore, but she reached for his hand and answered his question.
She pulled him down behind her, and he lay his body along her back, draped his right arm over her waist. "I feel so trapped without him," she said and hugged his arm to her.
"What would be worse?" he said. "Working it out with Forman—even if it hurt like hell, even if you both screwed up for years until you got it right—or never seeing him again?"
"Never seeing him again," she said. Her voice fell silent—but only for a moment. "Hyde?"
"Yeah?"
"If we really do get to have a do-over tomorrow, remind me of that, okay?"
A small, triumphant smile crept onto Hyde's lips. "Don't have to ask twice."
It was past seven o' clock when they decided to get dinner. Hyde took Donna to the diner across from the motel. Then he drove them back to Point Place. Driving was a bitch, though. His left arm was sore and heavy from the stress he'd put on it, and his fingers were tingling with numbness. He was too tired to block out the pain, but he didn't want to get them killed, so he leathered up and quit thinking about it.
8:16 P.M.
Jackie, Kelso, and Fez were all hanging out in the basement by the time Hyde and Donna got there—and Donna didn't make it more than a foot inside. Her face flushed, and she muttered, "Gotta go make dinner for my dad," before practically running back outside.
Hyde took two casual steps forward, and Kelso shouted, "Jackie said you forgave us! Is that true?"
"Shut up, Michael! I told you he did!" Jackie said. She was sitting in Hyde's chair—and waited until he reached her to jump up and throw her arms around his neck. "I'm so happy you're back!" Her mouth fit over his perfectly, moved with the perfect rhythm, let him taste her just the right amount...
And felt completely wrong. Guilt, man. Fuckin' guilt. He hadn't considered any of the sex he'd had before today cheating—'cause after Chicago he'd broken up with Jackie in his mind, and he was using those chicks to quit loving her. But Donna was different, man, because she was Donna, and technically he'd gotten back together with Jackie this morning.
"Steven?" She pulled away. "What's wrong?"
Crap. The hole where his stomach used to be was almost as big as when he'd slept with the nurse. But telling Jackie about Donna, confessing, would only cause her unnecessary pain.
"A couple of things," he said and was glad his shades were on. He pulled up his left sleeve, revealing his now purple-black bruise. It covered the entire ball of his shoulder. "This, for starters."
She gasped. "Did that moose Donna beat you up?"
"No, I ran into a guy's fist this morning. He wouldn't move his car."
"Ai..." Fez stood from the couch and tried to poke Hyde's bruise. Hyde slapped his hand away. "It is so ugly," Fez said and scrunched up his face.
Kelso laughed. "That, my friend is what we call a bullfrog. Wish I'd given it to him."
"Does it hurt, baby?" Jackie's lips touched Hyde's bruised skin tenderly, The kiss penetrated his chest like a missile, but the warhead carried only shame.
"Yeah..." he said and rolled down his sleeve. Jackie started for the deep freeze, but he held her back. "Don't want any ice."
She huffed, like she usually did when he wouldn't let her take care of him.
"Seriously, Jackie. It's fine." He sat in his chair and brought her into his lap—even though that felt wrong, too.
Her fingers lazily combed through the back of his hair while The Ropers played on the television. It should have been a peaceful moment. Kelso and Fez were complaining about the lack of decent boobs on the show, which made Hyde chuckle, but he was fidgeting with his hands, unable to rest them on Jackie for too long in any one spot. She was gonna call him on it unless he gave her a reason first.
"What's botherin' me more," he said, "is this sicko called the Wisconsin Waster."
Kelso leapt to his feet as if he'd been shocked with a cattle prod. "How do you know about him?"
"Overheard some cops talkin' today."
"Oh, crap..." Kelso said and eased back onto the couch. "We were supposed to be keeping this case quiet, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore." A grin lit up his face. "That anonymous tip the Department got this morning was totally on the money!"
"They caught him?" Hyde said.
Kelso nodded. "Detective Carlyle staked out the Le Motel with a bunch of undercover cops. They nabbed the guy, but only after he'd..."
Hyde finished Kelso's sentence: "Offed another chick."
"No one knew what he looked like," Kelso said with a shrug. "None of his vics have ever survived to describe him."
Jackie shifted her weight on Hyde's lap. She couldn't have been happy about the topic of conversation—especially 'cause it wasn't centered around her—but maybe it was tapping into her memory of yesterday. He wasn't finished with his questions, though, and said to Kelso, "But you know what he looks like now, right?"
"I don't. I saw Officer Kennedy on my way here from The Hub. He told me about the arrest, but I didn't want details. Talking about the Waster always gives me nightmares—" Kelso shuddered. "Damn! Now I'm gonna have 'em for a week! Thanks a lot, Hyde."
"No problem."
"Steven..." Jackie hopped off his lap and took his hand, "I don't wanna hear about this Waster-guy anymore." She pulled him to his room. "I need to talk to you, alone."
"Ooh, they're going to do it! They're going to do it!" Fez sang as Hyde shut the door behind him.
He hadn't been inside his room for over two weeks, when he got Chrissy's number from his cigar box. His focus that day on finding her hadn't let him take in his surroundings, but now the room's different elements shone at him like beacons. Jackie had changed his room a long time ago—just like she'd changed him—but only vestiges of those changes remained: Mainly, the goose down duvet on his cot and the lavender-scented candle. But he'd torn down the twinkle lights and chucked the framed photo of her underneath his cot, casualties of their fight last Christmas.
Those twinkle lights, man. Taking those down had been a definite signal to her. Without them, his windowless room was almost pitch-black in the mornings. She always used to turn on his bare bulb when she woke before him—back when she spent the nights. And the twinkle lights kept her from having to do that.
"Steven..." Jackie turned on the bulb and locked his door.
"Yeah?" His pulse tightened. All he wanted to do was escape, but she pushed him down to the cot and straddled his lap. She was careful of his shoulder. Her arms slid gently around his back, and her floral scent filled his nostrils as she brought her cheek to rest against his.
"I wanna make love with you, baby," she whispered. Her her breath warmed his ear, but her words froze him the point of paralysis. "Please, Steven." His muscles wouldn't move. All he could do was sit there helplessly while she begged him. "I've missed you so much," she said, and her hold tightened around him. "I need you to be with me."
He couldn't do it, couldn't even kiss her. His guilt handcuffed him. "Jackie, I—"
Her mouth sucked in his earlobe, kindling his muscles to life. He grasped her around the waist and lifted her off his lap. Yeah, he'd had a bunch of good reasons for sleeping with Donna, but only of them was the full truth: He was curious. He'd never made love to anyone but Jackie. All the other chicks he'd been with—before her, after her—were just sex. Didn't affect anything but his body. But Jackie...
When he was inside her—or just with her—it was safe to feel. And he wanted to feel—'cause what she brought out in him, what she gave him—nothing was like it, man. Nothing. The world and its bullshit fell away. Donna was the only other girl he thought he could feel that way with.
He hadn't.
Hyde stared between his knees at the concrete floor. He couldn't look Jackie in the face. "What do you want, Steven?" she'd asked him yesterday. "I mean, what do you really want?" and that was what he was trying to answer. If Jackie wasn't enough, what the hell would be?
A sharp pain jabbed his left shoulder, and his gaze shot up. Jackie had poked him where she knew it would hurt the most. "I thought you forgave me," she said. "The way you kissed me this morning and looked at me and spoke to me..."
"Yeah, I did," he said and took off his shades. He wanted to give her the respect of his naked eyes. "But I don't think you're gonna forgive me."
"What—" her voice shook, "what did you do, Steven?"
"I had sex with another girl."
She nodded, and her expression filled with anguish. Unlike yesterday—unlike all the other times he'd told her about screwing different chicks—she believed him. "Donna?" she said very quietly.
"Yeah." He hadn't wanted to betray Donna, but no way was he lying to Jackie. "I'm sorry." The words sounded like shit, just like he felt. But his feelings didn't matter. He could've found another method of helping Donna, and he'd chosen the one that would hurt Jackie the most. "You wanna leave, I won't blame you."
"Steven," Jackie rammed her fist into his left shoulder, "shut up."
He bit down a curse and shut his eyes as hot pain traveled down his arm. Sparks of numbness overtook his fingers, and he wished his heart could be so lucky.
When he opened his eyes, he fully expected Jackie to be gone. But she was sitting in the dusty armchair in the corner. Her head was angled down, and he watched as she tried to process what he'd told her—or maybe how she was gonna get him back for it.
He shouldn't have come back to the basement tonight. He should've driven back to the motel, lit up a joint or three, and waited 'til the next day. But something in him had needed to see her.
"I want to hate you for it," she said finally, almost ten minutes later. "I wanna believe today was your revenge on me for Chicago, but I—" She sighed and looked away. Then her gaze drilled straight into him. "Steven, I need you to tell me why."
"Forman," he said low. "Being without him's killin' her."
"No, I need to you tell me why I don't hate you. Because my mind..." A bitter laugh escaped her. "Oh, God, my mind is saying you're the worst piece of slime I ever slipped in, but this—" she patted her heart, "doesn't agree. Why?"
"It's your damn heart. How the hell should I know?" The words came out harsher than he intended, but their bite was meant for himself. He felt like total crap... like slime.
"There's something you're keeping from me," she said. He shrugged and opened his mouth to speak, but her pointed finger shut him up from across the room, "Don't you dare pull an 'I don't know' on me, Steven. Were you telling me the truth this morning?"
"Yes."
"Then what aren't you telling me about tonight?"
He thought over what he'd done with Donna, from their first kiss to the end, and said, "I didn't come inside her."
Jackie's eyes widened. "Where did you...?"
"The bathroom."
"Because?"
A lone, sad chuckle burst from his chest. "The sex meant shit to me 'cause it wasn't you."
She fell quiet again. Then: "If you hadn't showed up last night, I would have slept with Michael."
"I know."
"Donna needed you?"
"Yeah, but quit trying to justify what I did, Jackie. Just hate me, okay?" His hands slid over his eyes, grasped his hair before dropping to his knees. "That's what all this has been about, man," he said to the floor. "Getting me to understand I don't fucking deserve you..." he looked up at her, "'cause I don't."
"Steven!"
"I'm gonna wake up, and it's gonna be tomorrow, and you won't be there. That's what September 9th, 1979's been waiting for..." He rolled his eyes. "The first time I woke up on Saturday, I thought you didn't deserve me. Man, I'm dumber than Kelso."
She gasped. "Don't say that, baby."
"279 days... Kelso would've gotten it by now."
"What are you talking about?"
"Doesn't matter. Look," he stood up, "I'll walk you home if you want—or get Kelso to. If you wanna fuck him, I got no say in it anymore."
Jackie got off the chair and walked to him. "Sit with me." Her fingers wrapped around his palm and guided him to the cot. Then she sat beside him and held his hand on her knee. Her closeness made his stomach clench. What the hell was wrong with her?
"You're probably right," she said. "You don't deserve me. But nobody does. I'm just too good for everyone." She was smiling at him, and he couldn't help but return it. "This is the most you've told me in a long time." Her grip on his hand tightened. " I was right about you, wasn't I? Before our first kiss, when you spat in my face."
Hyde's smile deepened into a grin. "Sorry about that."
"You don't just feel unworthy of me," she said. "You don't feel worthy of love at all. That's why you shut yourself off to it."
"Jackie—"
"Shh." She pressed a finger to his lips, flooding him with a sense of déjà vu. "You may not feel worthy of love," she said, "but you're so capable of it, Steven. That's why I went to you when I was with Michael... That's why Donna went to you today. It radiates off you like waves or something."
"I'm also capable of being a total asshole."
"Of course you are. You grew up poor, and poor people are bad." Hyde laughed, but she was frowning. "I'm serious, Steven. Your parents were horrible, and sometimes I just want to shout at them for what they did to you." She leaned her head on his right shoulder. "You deserved so much better than them."
His breath grew rough and shallow. He couldn't believe what she was doing, that she was comforting him after what he'd done.
"Oh, I wish you'd grown up with your rich daddy," she said with a sigh. "Then you would've been absolutely perfect."
Perfect. He kept himself from scowling, but the word "perfect" calcified his heart into a thick stone. "I would've grown up in Milwaukee," he said, "and we never would've met."
She sat up straight. "We would have. Rich people run in the same circles."
They stared at each other for a moment, and her soft expression turned his heart back into muscle and blood. "So..." he said, "where are we?"
"I can't forgive you..." she said.
Hyde nodded. He couldn't forgive himself either.
"...today." She stood up and stroked the back of his hair. "But I'll try to forgive you tomorrow. And if it doesn't happen then, the day after that—and every day until it happens. Because this life... Steven, it won't mean anything without you."
His eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck." He hugged her around the hips and pulled her stomach flush against his face. "Fuck..."
Her fingernails lightly scratched the nape of his neck. "Puddin', you're gonna have to forgive yourself, too."
"I don't know how, doll."
"Well, you're gonna have to figure it out," she said and pulled away. "Because your heart's been locked in a prison," her eyes looked pleadingly at him, "and I need it with me."
9:16 P.M.
Hyde dropped Jackie off at the Burkhart Mansion. She'd given him a peck on the lips before leaving the Camino but didn't say good-bye, and he watched as she entered the house. Then he drove the Camino down the backroads of Point Place, away from the rich part of town and into its poorer neighborhoods.
He picked up a bottle 80-proof Smirnoff vodka—same brand as his mom used to drink—from the same liquor store she used to frequent. By 9:41 P.M., he was sitting on the rotting porch steps of the house he grew up in. No one seemed to be living there. The only light came from the crescent moon and the stars that winked overhead.
He drank the vodka slowly. The familiar burn down his throat reminded of him the times he'd yelled it raw—at Edna. No one else had ever gotten him to that point but her. Her words could cut through his Zen and hack away at his insides, and his only defenses were to shout back or leave...
Until their last fight, the one before she finally left for good.
Years ago, the night after "Grandma" Forman's funeral, Hyde was home and sitting on their busted couch. His lip was swollen and bruised from defending Forman's honor at a bar—and Edna was halfway to being wasted, pacing the living room.
"Oh, great. They're going to think I did it," she said. "I'm gonna get arrested."
He scooted over to the other side of the couch—a spring had been sticking into his back. "Nah. Doesn't look like your work. I would've had a black eye, too."
"Damn right," she said. "Who the hell were you up against, a bunch of fruits? Were you at one of those bars for queers?"
"Whatever." He tried to focus on the TV. The Chicago White Sox were playing against the Minnesota Twins.
Edna took an enthusiastic swig from her glass of gin. "You and that skinny kid you're always hanging around with... you two are fucking each other, right?"
"Yup. You caught me."
"That's why his mother always gives me those damn dirty looks." She stopped pacing and stood beside the couch. "She's a slut, you know. Screws with any willing dog comes her way."
"No, Ma. That's you."
Edna struck him hard across the face, made him flinch. One of her long nails left a scratch below his eye, and his already-bruised lip began to throb. But he didn't say a word, didn't even move. He kept staring at the baseball game. Steve Renko, the White Sox starting pitcher, just got switched out for Bart Johnson.
"You've got no right to resent me, Steven," she said. "Every night, I go to bed praying for God to take you from my life." She gave him the glass of gin and clasped her hands together in a mock prayer. "'I don't care how you do it, Lord. Let him be run down by a car, let him be shot by a jealous girlfriend or die of food poisoning—just free me from this devil-child I've been saddled with.'"
Hyde took a sip of her booze and watched Bart Johnson throw a strike, but his Zen had thinned.
She grabbed her glass again. "Every morning, I wake up hoping that you just won't be here, Steven. And every morning, you're here." She drank a large swallow of gin. "You're still fucking here."
"Then why don't you just do it yourself?" he said calmly. "Get it over with."
"Because that's not what mothers are supposed to do." She was pacing again.
"Since when did you give a shit about that?"
She hurled her glass at his skull, but he dodged it easily. The glass broke on the floor behind him, and she started to yell. "What the hell makes you so damn special, huh?" Because you're a kid? You've got no fucking right to resent me!"
He shrugged. "Maybe you're right."
"What?" She was already on her way to the kitchen for more booze.
"I don't really care anymore," he said. His eyes remained fixed on the game, but he could see her in the corner of them. "I piss you off. You piss me off, but I'm kinda done with being pissed. So whatever."
"That's it?"
He shrugged again, and, in moments, she was standing between him and the television. "Your father should've pulled out his dick instead of leaving you inside me, the fucking bastard."
Hyde inhaled a careful breath and kept his head down. Willpower, not Zen, prevented the energy in him from exploding. Something had to change.
"Steven!" she shouted. He reflexively looked up at her, and she grabbed his lip right where it was swollen, twisted it. "You care about that?"
He withstood the pain, just as he'd withstood the sixteen years of bleak hell she'd put him through already. Usually, he would've pried her off. But something had to change.
"Say something, you bastard!" Edna said.
"Could you... get outta the bay?" His fingers dug into the exposed couch stuffing as she continued to twist. "I'b trying to batch the gabe."
A scream that could've cracked glass tore from her chest, but she finally let go of him. "You were put on this Earth to punish me," she whispered and stumbled away. "You were put on this Earth to punish me." Her bedroom door slammed shut.
Three days later, she ran off with a trucker. He hadn't seen her since. That was four years ago.
Now, on the front porch of his rotten old house, Hyde was staring up at the stars. He spotted the V-shaped constellation Andromeda, the Chained Lady. Jackie had taught him where and what it was. She always used to point out constellations to him. Her father would take her star-gazing at night, one of the only ways they'd really connected outside of money. And she'd shared that love with Hyde—like she'd shared so many other unexpected, surprisingly cool things with him
The bottle of vodka felt heavy in his hand. Besides drinking, Edna's favorite pastime seemed to have been making him miserable. But she'd been miserable herself. Miserable and trapped.
He chucked the bottle into the bushes by the Camino, but he didn't take his eyes off the stars. Fitting that the Chained Lady had watched over his childhood... just like it watched over him now.