"Hey, are you okay?" a voice came from next to her. She glanced over and met the eyes of a man about five years older than her, looking concerned. She felt a distasteful feeling rise in her stomach when he saw that she was beautiful and took more than just a bored interest in her well-being.
"I'm fine," she said, but even saying the words made her almost heave again. He frowned.
"You don't look fine."
"I said I'm fine, okay?" she snapped. "What's it to you?" His eyes darkened a little but he pushed it away so fast that she could have been imagining it. He took her shoulder.
"Come on," he said. "I'm driving you home." She tore herself free of his grip.
"I'm fine," she said again, turning back toward her truck. She took a step and felt dizziness settle on her head, and all sound faded away but the pounding in her ears. Syl fell, and the last thing she felt was being caught by a pair of strong arms before she fainted into unconsciousness.
"I was wondering when you'd wake up," the guy said to her as her eyes
snapped open and her whole body tensed. "Hey," he said. "It's okay." Syl rose up
slowly, wary of dizziness, but there was none. They were inside a vehicle,
obviously his, but still parked outside the gas station. She glanced down at
herself; nothing looked out of order. But her hands were shaking. No, her whole
body was shaking.
"You should lie down," he said. "You've been shivering for a couple of minutes now.
"Seizures," she managed. "They come on sometimes when I'm stressed. There's some pills in my truck for them." The guy opened the car door behind him, helped her out, aided her in walking steadily back to her truck. She rummaged around for her tryptophan, popped a few, smiled uncomfortably at him.
"Thanks," she said. He smiled back, extended a hand.
"I'm Joel."
"Syl," she said, shaking it.
"Is that short for something?" he asked; she shrugged.
"Not really. Sylvia, I guess."
"Sylvia," he repeated. "That's pretty."
"I really prefer Syl," she said. He glanced away and she could have kicked herself. Why was she being so rude? He was trying to be nice. "Sorry," she forced, and smiled at him again. "Would you like to go out for lunch or something?" She glanced at the sky, gauged the time. "It must be almost noon."
"About that," he agreed, then smiled. "I'd love to."
"So what was all that fainting about, Syl?" he asked. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Sorry." She smiled. "I was just a little queasy."
"Well, you seem okay now."
"Just a little shaky still," she agreed. "It'll go away before we get to the restaurant."
"I'm driving anyway," he said firmly. She thought about protesting for a moment, then shrugged.
"Okay." She let him open the passenger side of his jeep and climbed in, secretly glad not to have to drive because she didn't usually trust herself so soon after a seizure. Joel hitched her pickup to the back of the jeep, took them to a nice little Italian restaurant, one of the few decent places in the area.
"So what do you do?" he asked her halfway through dinner.
"I'm a waitress," she said.
"Oh yeah." He smiled, winked at her. "Where? Am I lucky enough for it to be a strip club?" She was surprised and a little irritated, but she forced a smile.
"Nope."
"So you attached?" he asked next. Syl thought about that for a moment.
"No," she decided finally. It made her both sad and relieved to say it. "I was, but we sort of fought."
"Ah," Joel said. "So you're on the rebound." Syl shrugged.
"I guess so."
"You live alone?"
"Yeah. You?"
"I have one roommate. Not enough money to afford my own place." He tilted his head at her. "You must get some good tips."
"Well, my brother sort of helps me out with some money, too," she said.
"Yeah? That's kind of weird," he remarked. Syl caught herself.
"Well, our parents died when we were really young, so he sort of looks after me."
"That's nice." He looked bored. "I don't have any brothers or sisters." Syl tried to imagine that for a moment but found it difficult.
"That must have been lonely."
"You done?" he asked, glancing over at her plate.
"Oh. Yeah." She hadn't touched most of her food. "I guess I'm still kind of nauseous."
"What was that about anyway?"
"I've been feeling kind of sick lately," she said uncomfortably, thinking of an excuse that wasn't the truth. "I was at a little get-together with my brother for New Year's, and let's just say he isn't the best cook to ever grace this planet."
"Ah, your mum didn't teach him too well, huh?" he joked; Syl raised her eyebrows at him. "Sorry," he said. "I forgot already." He hadn't really been listening to her, she knew. Inwardly she sighed.
"Anyway," she continued. "The seizure didn't help much, either." Joel smiled at her.
"Yeah. So you want to leave?"
"Okay." She let him insist on paying and watched without comment as he severely under-tipped the waitress. He drove them to her apartment and followed her into the building. Syl paused in front of her door without opening it.
"I'm fine," she said, smiling. "I'm not going to faint again." They stood there for a long time and finally Joel smiled at her, reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. She let him lean in and touch his lips to her, and took note of how different he was from Krit, and how less satisfying. She threaded an arm around his neck, deepened the kiss. He pulled back a little.
"You know this would be a lot easier if you opened the door," he said, his voice husky.
"No, we're not going to be doing that."
"Come on." His arms snaked around behind her back, pulled her closer. She pushed against his shoulders slightly, allowed him to kiss her again. Then she let go.
"I should go, Joel. I'll call you." He sighed a little, looked a little irritated, then finally smiled a smile that was obviously forced. Why did she always attract guys like this?
"Goodnight, Syl," he said, kissing her deeply again.
"Goodnight," she said again. Joel turned and walked away, and Syl let herself into her apartment. The weird thing was, she did call him. And they started dating. He was easier than Krit; not because he wasn't going to hit her, because she suspected he would, eventually, but because he didn't love her, and that was pretty much all she could handle.
"Tell me all about him," Brin demanded the next night on the phone. Syl smiled fondly at her sister, glad she'd taken Brin up on her offer to keep in touch. She leaned her had back against the pillow of her bed, playing with the phone cord, and gave her a brief description of Joel.
"No, but is he nice? Sweet? Funny? I want personality details, not looks."
"Ah," Syl said. "Yeah, he's nice."
"That's good."
"What about Greg, how are you two doing?"
"I think I'm in love with him, really." Brin's voice was full of happiness. "Have you ever been in love?" Syl thought about that for a moment.
"Maybe. I don't do that kind of thing too well," she admitted. There was a short pause.
"Are you afraid of sex?" This question surprised Syl with its accuracy.
"Well, yeah," she said. "I guess."
"That's typical."
"How do you know?"
"I've studied psychology."
"Yeah?" Syl smiled; that sounded exactly like something Brin would do, but she didn't know if she really wanted to pursue this conversation. "Hey, are you going to marry him?" There was a short silence.
"I may," she said, sounding incredibly happy.
"I'm so happy for you, Brin," Syl said.
"If we do get married, we both want it to be next year. Like, March. February maybe, but no earlier."
"Sounds good," Syl agreed. "I'm invited, I hope?"
"Of course!"
"And you'll explain me how...?"
"Yes, that will be a bit tricky. Zack will have a quota of course, I won't be able to invite all of you. But I'll probably be allowed five. Do you think he'll let me have five?"
"Yes," Syl said. "I'm sure five would be acceptable."
"Okay, then you, Tinga, Jondy, Zane, and Krit. I'll tell Greg you're friends from school."
"How is Krit?" Syl failed miserably at her attempt to sound nonchalant. "Have you talked to him lately?"
"Yeah," Brin answered gently. "He's good. He asked about you."
"He did?"
"Mmm-hmm. But he wouldn't tell me what happened between you. What was it?"
"He- No, I-" Syl struggled to explain it. "He wanted to talk about... stuff. And I didn't want to."
"He doesn't know, though, does he?"
"No."
"So that's it?" she asked. "You're just going to keep avoiding him?"
"I'll have to see him soon."
"Why's that?"
"Complicated," she said.
"Complicated as in 'I don't want to talk about it,' or complicated as 'I want you to pry it out of me because I can't talk about it'?" Brin asked; Syl seriously considered that for a few moments.
"I don't want to talk about it," she decided finally. "I'll tell you in February when you get married."
"Okay," Brin said, obviously knowing when not to push, which Syl was grateful for. "I should go, it's late."
"Yeah," Syl agreed. "Me too."
"You'd better not call me for a couple of days, I'm due for a heat cycle, okay?"
"Okay, Brin."
"What about you?" came the inevitable question. Syl played with the phone cord.
"Not yet, but soon." In truth, it had been just over four months since the last one, and she was well overdue. But that had happened before; maybe not quite this late, but it had happened.
"Okay," Brin said. "Goodnight, Syl. I'm glad you called."
"Me too. I'll talk to you in a week or so."
"I love you."
"I love you, too. Goodnight, Brin." She hung up the phone, and thought about Joel, imagined falling in love with him, telling Brin about their wedding, asking Zack for her quota. She laughed out loud, trying not to think about Krit as she simply couldn't stop doing these days. She thought about Joel again. Had it really been almost a year since Steve? Had it even been more? Would she and Joel turn out the same way? And what about Krit? She knew she would have to see him again soon. Syl sighed, long and loud, and closed her eyes.
"Syl," Joel said softly two Saturdays later outside her apartment. "I'm
in love with you." She raised her eyebrows at him; this was new. Usually he just
tried to coax her- either gently or not so gently- to let him into the
apartment, and she could tell he was getting annoyed that she hadn't yet. Every
day he got angry she swore to herself that she was going to break up with him,
but every day she saw him again and he was so sweet, and she said to Brin he was
an angel.
"No you're not, Joel," she said, smiling at him a little. He momentarily glared, then shrugged.
"Let's go inside," he said.
"No."
"How the hell do I know you don't have another guy in there?" he snapped, angry now. Syl tried not to laugh.
"Yeah, and it'd be real smart of me to bring you to my front door every night."
"Prove it," he said. "Let me in. I'll just look around and then I'll go."
"You don't trust me?" She feigned hurt feelings. He just stood there, so she sighed. "Fine, come on." She put her key in the lock and turned it, pushed the door open. He surveyed her empty apartment, turned back to her with a genuine smile on his face. He laughed at himself, embarrassed, and threaded his arms around her waist.
"Sorry, baby," he said. She didn't like being called baby. "I guess I just got a little jealous. I've been wondering why you haven't wanted me, and..." He shrugged.
"It's not that," she assured him, reaching up and resting her arms on his shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her, and she let him. His lips moved to her neck, against her collar bone. He undid one of the buttons of her shirt. "Joel," she said, turning away. He fixed her with a hard look, took her arm firmly. He kissed her again; a moment later his hand was up the back of her shirt, pulling at her bra. She backed out of his arms. "You should go," she said, walking to the front door to let him out. Again he caught her arm.
"What, is something wrong with me?" he hissed at her.
"No, I told you, it isn't you," she said, annoyed. He glared at her.
"Come on, what, are you saving yourself for marriage?" He pulled her close again, nuzzled her neck. "You don't make out like a virgin, Syl." She sighed before allowing him to kiss her again, deeply. He nudged her toward her bedroom with his hips; she could feel the heat of him through their clothes.
"Joel," she snapped, putting a hand against his chest. "I told you to leave." Angry, he swatted her hand away and glared at her. She backed off a bit. "Okay, get out," she said. "Right now." Then she waited for the dance to begin.
The dance; that's what she'd nicknamed it, because that's what it was like. It was like ballet, only with blood involved. First the anger, then the violence, then the apologizing. She waited for it to start with Joel as it had started with Steve, and others before him. Sure enough, the first blow came. It wasn't a punch or even a slap, it was a slam- he shoved her up against the wall with his arm. As it always happened, Syl was relieved by his actions. Somehow, being hit made her feel alive, made her no longer one of twelve children who escaped a place the other eleven were all glad to be away from but which she pined for every day. The blows made her feel like she hadn't murdered one of her brothers, that she hadn't ripped apart a man in the woods, that she hadn't slept twice with one brother and once almost with another, that she hadn't given up a child that had almost killed her.
Joel was yelling at her, she belatedly realized. And she was bleeding; her cheek was ripped open a little above the dimple she got when she smiled.
"You bitch!" he was growling at her. "You're a little tease, aren't you?" Syl suddenly realized that she was in a lot of pain. He'd landed quite a few punches against her face, as well as on her torso. Too late she understood that he was more dangerous than she'd given him credit; she'd never had a boyfriend quite this violent before. The blows he'd landed on her stomach and chest left her breathless.
Joel grabbed her shoulder harshly, his eyes dark with both anger and desire. She shivered in his grip as his hand slapped her face again, her ears ringing slightly. "I'm sick of it, Syl! I've been waiting patiently. I deserve this." He grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the bedroom. When she realized what he was doing, she came to her senses and landed a well-placed kick to his stomach, easily pulling herself loose from his grasp. He could hit her as much as he wanted to, but she would die before she'd ever let him touch her. Joel reeled against the wall, cursing in pain, his eyes wide with surprise. He wiped blood from his face and stared at her as she held her fists up against him in a warning not to come any closer.
Suddenly Syl felt a sharp pain wrench through her body, and couldn't stop herself from half collapsing, gritting her teeth against the pain as she grabbed the wall to keep herself upright. Her hands started shaking but before she could register what was happening to her Joel had knocked her to the ground and was slapping her ears, her face, cursing in anger that she'd hit him. Syl tried to bring her shaking hands up to defend herself but he held them down and she was too dizzy to be very coordinated. He punched her again, hard, in the stomach, in the chest. A rib cracked.
"Joel," she said, her voice wavering dangerously. "Joel, I need-" His fist connected with her jaw and she let her head snap to the side before she bit out, "I need my pills. I'm having-" He hit her again. Her whole body was convulsing now, and she couldn't fight back. The dull pain in her chest and abdomen made by his fists was spreading. "Joel..." she gasped.
"Shut up!" he yelled. He raised a hand to smack her again, then paused as her teeth began chattering. His fist slowly lowered and his eyes widened. "Syl?" he asked, hard. Then more softly, "Syl?"
"My pills," she managed, convulsing horribly now. He got off her, ran out of the room. Syl folded around herself, fighting off unconsciousness and pain. A moment later he was kneeling beside her, with a glass of water and her bottle of tryptophan. He helped her down several, cradled her into a sitting position to drink the water. Pain shot through her as she shifted position and she tried not to cry out loud. Fear gripped her; this was more than just a seizure.
"I'm sorry," he kept whispering into her hair, stroking her back. "I'm sorry."
"Joel," she breathed. "Something's wrong." He let out a strangled laugh.
"Really?" he asked sarcastically.
"No, I mean-" She gasped as pain shot through her again. He swallowed fearfully.
"I'm calling an ambulance," he said, standing up, reaching for the phone. "You fell, okay? You fell down the stairs." Syl laughed bitterly.
"There are no stairs here," she said. Joel slammed the phone down, leaned his face down in front of hers, grabbed her shaking chin roughly.
"You'd better not say anything to anyone about what happened," he hissed. Syl laughed in his face and he raised a hand to hit her again, then dropped it at the last moment. He straightened. "Fine," he spat. "Just stay here and die." He grabbed his coat and stomped out. Syl breathed hard through her mouth, raised herself shakily and painfully to her feet, gritting her teeth against dizziness that threatened to send her crashing back to the floor. Finally she dropped to her knees and crawled to the phone, clutching a hand against her throbbing stomach, felt blood against her hand. She picked up the receiver, dialled Zack's emergency number.
"It's me," she bit out when he answered after the first ring. He heard the pain in her voice immediately.
"Syl. Are you in trouble?"
"Are you close?"
"I'm with Zane."
"Good. I need you to come, Zack. Now." She closed her eyes against another wave of pain. Her voice was shaking. "I don't think I'm going to last very long."
"What is it?" he asked, alarmed; she knew he was already heading for the door. She said nothing for several moments as the pain encroached on her consciousness again.
"I..." She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes. This was not how she'd wanted him to find out. She glanced down at herself; she could feel the blood now, warm and sticky against her legs. "I was pregnant," she said softly, her tears spilling over. "Now I think I'm not." There was a long, long silence.
"Are you alone?" he asked finally, so gentle she almost cried with relief that he wasn't angry.
"Now I am," she said; she could tell he was struggling not to curse as he put the pieces together of how she'd come into this condition.
"Call an ambulance," he ordered.
"But Ly-"
"We'll worry about that later. I don't want to get there and find you dead on the bedroom floor. Call one now, Syl."
"Okay, I will, I promise." She bit her lip. "Zack?"
"What?"
"Hurry." She failed miserably at keeping the fear out of her voice.
"I'm coming right now," he said, urgently. "Just hang on, Syl." She nodded, set down the phone. After waiting for a moment she picked it up again, dialled. She gasped as another bout of pain hit her.
"Emergency," she heard the woman's voice on the other end. "Hello?" She
gritted her teeth, tried to say something, but nothing really more than a squeak
came out. Then she collapsed onto the floor and blackness took over her vision.
