Chapter 3: Travis

I glared at him, seething from the inside out, and not even giving a damn about the fact that he could tell. After all, he was glaring right back; not even a little bit changed from the day I had last seen his ugly face. An annoying little voice in the back of my head was warning me of pending danger; it told me to break the staring match and just jump out the window to escape said pending danger, but I ignored it, and went with the more natural approach: look down the ugly little bastard until pride allowed him to break the stare. He had gotten the better of me a few times before in the past, but that wouldn't be happening today. The arbitrary bastard had practically come out of the blue, and nearly caught me off guard, but that didn't mean he could get the better of me.

Try as I might, I just couldn't believe it. Carla was dating him? Out of all the assholes we had known back in our schooldays, she had somehow ended up with this guy. And to think that I had believed myself to have known her so well! Maybe returning to my hometown had been a bad idea. I sighed; Just stay calm, Beatrice, I warned myself, biting my tongue until I tasted blood in order to restrain the urge of beginning to scream at him, and disrupt Carla's activities upstairs. There would be time enough for shouting matches later on… I didn't want to upset Carla after all.

I continued to stare, blinking every now and then. Finally, about three minutes into the match, he broke our contact, and I sighed, relieved that I had won.

My thoughts of pending danger returned; I shooed them off. Travis wasn't dangerous. He was a nothing. A nobody, and if he thought that he could--

"So, how have you been?" Travis suddenly asked; yanking me out of my thoughts, and back to the grim reality that I was still stuck in a room with the boy who had made it his duty to inflict misery upon everyone else but himself throughout our school years; the boy who had thought it amusing when my own mother had died. The little bastard.

"Come on, Travis," I hissed, "Like you'd even care," I muttered under my breath; deciding to throw all cautions to the winds and simply lash out at the asshole… after all, he did deserve it. It wasn't like he was some innocent little bystander that had been the perfect friend.

"Cold," he remarked, as the water in the upstairs shower began to hiss, and I prayed that Carla would finish, "Can't a guy ask a question around here?" he laughed. I rolled my eyes; the statement was both annoying and quite familiar… Who had uttered a similar question? I couldn't place my finger on it, so I rolled my eyes a second time.

"Shut the fuck up, Travis," I replied, after a beat, "Mock innocence isn't cute. You should know that by now."

"Well, you certainly know how to hold a grudge, Beatrice. Not that I'm surprised, but I'd think that even you would have the ability to be a little decent towards your best friend's boyfriend."

The stone around my neck glowed angrily; I briefly wondered if he would sense the strangeness of the object. Probably not. Travis hadn't been a boy of wits after all, "Whatever," I rolled my eyes, realizing that the stone was probably offended by him… I couldn't say I blamed it for that, "Whatever," I rolled my eyes, sighing exasperatedly, "Besides, look who's talking, because it seems like you haven't changed a bit in five years as well; you're just as immature and pathetic as the day I met you-- although I must compliment you on the fact that your complexion cleared up: Congratulations."

His peeling laughter caused both my gaze to become more intent still, and my slender hands to ball up into extremely tight fists, "Sorry, Bea," he whispered, wiping tears away from his eyes, "But if you don't like my dating Carla, there's nothing you can do about it. What can I say? The girl simply lives for me."

"I highly doubt that. Carla just needs some sense talked into her. You always were the little manipulator."

"But, I've changed so, Beatrice! Ask Carla. She'll tell you," his grin widened, "I was the only guy to ever love Carla-- to ever appreciate her. After you went and disappeared, Carla was a mess. She needed someone, and when she found him, it was me."

"Oh, wow," I replied, "that was just about the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard in my whole life. This isn't some lame low-budget film, Travis. This is life, and I know a liar when I see one."

"But, it's true. Every word. Ask Carla how much I love her-- although I must admit the fact that I never pictured myself with such a girl of inbreeding," he finished the statement, and grinned a wicked grin, "But what can I say? She's great in bed, and that's all that matters."

I was shocked. Before I knew what was happening, I had flown across the room, and had punched him right in his stomach, knocking his wind out, "How dare you?" I hissed, "How dare you?" I repeated, as he wheezed for breath, "Listen here, buddy. If you fuck with Carla, you're fucking with me too."

"I'm not scared of you, bitch," he replied, after regaining his breath, "Carla loves me. Carla chose me, and she won't listen to you. She won't believe you."

"She will, Travis. She will. I'll make her see that you're a--" I cut myself off. The flow of the water from the upstairs shower died down to a drip, and I took my seat on the other side of the room again, calming down, and acting as if nothing had happened. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and Carla emerged, wearing an old pink bathrobe I had given her on her fifteenth birthday. I smiled, as I realized that she had indeed missed me, "Beatrice, I was just flipping through TV Guide," she said, holding up the magazine to show me, "There's a horror movie marathon on tonight. I figured we could make some popcorn and watch them-- a sleepover just like when we were kids," her eyes lit up warmly, my smile widened, and she descended the stairs as I remembered those times we had shared-- and how they had all been cut so shortly.

"Sounds like fun," Travis interjected, causing me to roll my eyes in annoyance, "But there's just one problem, babe. You know how I loathe that kind of shit," he stood up, as if for emphasis, and walked towards her, as she came down the landing, "That's okay," Carla cooed, pausing at the bottommost step, and beginning to pat her hair dry, "you don't have to stay. I was thinking along the lines of 'Girls' night in, and boys' night out,'" I snickered to myself; Travis probably didn't have any friends to spend the evening out with, and it was then that she began massaging his shoulder blades tenderly, and I gagged at the sight of them-- it reminded me of my father and Jacqueline; Travis even moaned slightly as Jacqueline would have given the same circumstances. I cringed.

"Okay," he whispered, taking her hands in his, and leading her towards the doorway, "Would you mind one more kiss before I left?"

"Of course not," she replied, simply; wrapping her arms around his waist, as if they were all alone, and proceeding to open her mouth to allow his tongue entrance.

After what seemed like several hours passed, their make-out session ended, and Travis let himself out, pausing to wave goodbye at me with mock enthusiasm when Carla's back was turned… The little bastard.

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"Would you mind shutting the window, Beatrice?" Carla's voice suddenly asked, dragging me out of my horror-flick induced semi-coma. Ah. How I had missed the old days…

"Sure," I replied, getting up, and walking over to the window; closing it, and shutting out the freezing-cold draft, "should I lock it?" I added, after a pause as I adjusted to the temperature change.

"Yeah," Carla replied, and I motioned to do so, "Thanks," she added, as I retook my seat, "No problem," I replied. The evening had been like this so far; casual and laid-back. So far, no tough questions that would involve clever lies to cover-up the truth… at least not yet.

I stole a glance at the pictures on the coffee table; Carla and Travis in Vegas, Carla and Travis in New York-- What the fuck? Traveling already? Great.

My mind was buzzing once again.

It just didn't make sense. It was the most unlikely pairing in the world; Travis and Carla… Carla and Travis. Whatever way you said it, it just didn't click. What the hell had happened to her? She seemed nearly the same as the day I had last seen her; sarcastic, fun-loving, and kind, but Travis…? I bit my tongue, and reached for a small handful of popcorn.

I moistened the kernel with my tongue and chewed gently, contemplating the day's events. If I thought about them as a couple all night, I was likely to go mad.

I shook the idea of Travis and Carla's canoodling away from my mind with one final shudder. I concentrated on the amount of gore showing up on the screen, the warmth of being in a house as opposed to a shelter or the streets… Suddenly, more questions entered my mind; what would I do in the morning? I had come here for a reason. I needed help. There was something I was meant to do, and despite the highly unbelievable aspects of everything that had happened to me, Carla would eventually believe me, and she would give me help. All that was left was the gargantuan problem of gathering up enough courage to tell her the truth. After all, I had lied to her earlier, and I knew that she somehow sensed this. Best friends always share that bond; they can tell when the other is happy, sad, or in this case, lying. But, all the same, how could I possibly tell her the truth?

It was no good.

It was now or never; my mouth opened, and I decided to tell her everything. She had to know-- I had to know that she would be willing to help me, "Carla, I--"

"It's weird, isn't it?" Carla suddenly asked, taking me by surprise, and causing me to choke on my words, and be silent, as a commercial rolled by reaching out to those who had been infected by the HIV/AIDS virus.

I nodded; knowing what she meant as she gave me another of her understanding smiles for which she had been quite famous for up until high-school, "It was weird for me too, the first couple of months we were going out… It was pretty tough."

Months? I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of guilt coursing through my veins; How could I have stayed away for so long...? "How did it happen?" I asked, boldly, forgetting to ask her for help, by telling her my story, and sitting up, staring into my friend's face.

"Well, I hadn't really seen him that much since high-school graduation, and I just noticed him one day on campus... I don't know, he makes me laugh; he's changed, Beatrice," she added, seeing that I had raised a single eyebrow in a questioning manner, "He's really changed, and he's a very caring person once you've gotten to know him again. We never knew Travis Smith. He's a sweet, caring--"

As she rambled on, my thoughts continued to disagree with her, although I decided to remain silent, and nod my head in the right places, No one ever changes, I thought, People like Travis Smith stay the same forever, "What was it like out there?" Carla suddenly asked, after having finished her character analysis on Travis.

"What do you mean?" I asked, although I quickly realized what she was referring to.

"In Barstow-- on the streets."

I stared at her; unsure how to answer such a question; there were so many ways to answer her. I decided to give the condensed version as opposed to the dramatic interpretation I could give if I was in the right mood. "It was scary; some nights, I couldn't find a shelter because they were all full, so I'd just wander out into the streets again, and sleep in alleyways... There were lots of times when I'd question whether or not I'd ever wake up again..."

I drifted off, as Carla processed the information that I had just given her, "But why didn't you call someone-- anyone; you could have asked a police officer or a shelter worker for help-- they would have recognized you and your story, and besides, didn't your grandma live near Barstow?"

I nodded, "Carla, you just don't understand. I was scared. I couldn't come home as if nothing had happened... I wasn't ready until just yesterday, and even then, I had my doubts."

There was a moment of silence, and then interrupted by a question that instantly stirred up many old emotions and feelings within me, "Did you ever meet anyone?" Carla asked.

I stared at her, "Yeah. There was someone. I really loved him, we would have been married; I was even gonna move away with him," my eyes narrowed in anger, as I returned to that night at the ball in my mind-- when Jacqueline had murdered my fiancé; the only man I had ever-- or at least, thought I had loved... Had I really loved him, though...?

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"He died," I answered, truthfully.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm better now. It's been almost two years..."

"But what made you come back? There must have been something."

I yawned, as the inevitable answer issued from my mouth, "I guess I just accepted my destiny."

"Destiny?" she asked, as I closed my eyes; for some reason, the notion of sleep was overwhelming-- almost as if I had been put under a powerful spell; I could barely open my eyes to see her face again, "Beatrice, you really are a strange girl," I smiled, and drift off to sleep.

These would be the last words she would ever say to me.