Goodbye Jac

"Goodbye, Suzanna" was intended as a self-contained piece, with Jack having expressed exactly what futures he'd allow Tabby and Suzie to have with him. For some, that implication was satisfying, but others would've preferred to see explicit consequences. Both responses are obviously valid, but for those who want more closure, this is for them:

For Suzie, time had become greasy.

She'd blink, and the road was different. The semi in front of her was suddenly an SUV, then a sedan. Road signs she shouldn't be seeing yet leapt out at her. Where did the last twenty miles go?

Nothing made sense.

He'd been so calm, but he was wrong, and she told him so, but he just...he just kept talking and the words weren't what she was expecting. They started making sense, and that was bad, but then they turned into hammer blows. Little slices of fear and pain that she didn't have an answer for. Then she was outside somehow, and he was looking, just looking at her with that face, that terrible face, and she told him it would be okay but then it was unbearable and he was crying, and he'd closed the door and it felt like a judgement.

That's when it felt like she'd done something wrong, something bad, but she hadn't done anything. It would all be okay, if she could just call her mom, but when she tried, the words came out wrong. She wanted to tell her to come home, to help dad, but she didn't answer. The voicemail had beeped at her, so she'd said...what had she said? There was screaming. Why screaming? Why would she do that? Her mom couldn't do anything with that.

She blinked again, and had taken the exit into slow city traffic. Stopping and starting. Had she taken the right exit? Someone was honking the horn and the light was green, but then it was going back to red.

He'd called her Suzanna.

He never calls her Suzanna; Always Suzie or sweetie or darling or love.

Suzie had to pull over for a minute, and haphazardly blocked a bus stop while her fists pounding on the steering wheel ineffectively. Someone was screaming again. She wasn't even sure who they were screaming at, but her phone still hadn't rung. She checked, maybe she hadn't heard it ring. She sent another message. "Call me." It joined the rest; The list was disappearing off the top of the screen.

She was okay. She must be, she was parking by the apartment. She'd got back okay. Everything was fine. That stupid woman, had she lied? Dad said she lied, and Suzie was starting to think he was right, and it wasn't okay. She was unlocking the door, and Maddie was turning to look at her funnily. Her roommate Maddie, sweet funny Madison, and she tried to tell Maddie about the terrible thing, but she was on her knees.

"Come here."

It was a good hug. She was in a blanket and the pain wouldn't go away, but Maddie kept asking her questions with a sad, serious face. Oh god. He said he hated her. At some point, there was soup, but it was hard to eat it with the shaking. It got everywhere. Maddie told her it was okay, but Suzie loved the coat and it was ruined too. Stained, just like everything else. She was there for hours, but eventually she cried herself to sleep on the couch.

It was dark when Suzie woke up, and Maddie was gone. She was alone again. She didn't feel better, but she felt different. Cleaner. No, she corrected herself, not cleaner; She was still tainted, but she could see the filth now. The stains.

That evil, selfish, thoughtless, nasty... That stupid slut. Why did she ever listen to her? Those progress selfies with her hot gym buddy, asking what she thought of Steve's looks. Sharing little details and jokes, just friendly flirting, just a harmless crush, just something your dad doesn't need to know about, something he wouldn't understand. Dad had told her the truth, though.

And she'd met him. She'd wanted to. She'd laughed with mom about how handsome and muscular and fit he was, that smug asshole. And she still didn't tell. Then it was romantic, and our little secret, and a meaningless bit of fun, and finally a fun weekend. Something to relieve the boredom. It wasn't until then, that was when she thought maybe it was going too far. But she still didn't quite say it. She'd trusted her to do the right thing, she said she would. She said she would, and Suzie had believed her.

But Suzie felt different now. There was the fire, and she wondered if dad felt it too. She felt closer to dad than she had in a long time, in years, but then she remembered, and he couldn't be further away. That's when she started to remember yesterday properly. All the things that dad had said came in bursts. How disappointed he had been.

She wanted to cry again, and maybe she was, she didn't know, but she had to tidy herself up and get some proper sleep. She stripped off as she walked, and collapsed into her own bed, but sleep wouldn't come. Well that's fine, she thought, she didn't deserve it.

Instead, she pulled the comforter around herself and stared into space. The soft warmth of the bedding was cold comfort, but it was the only thing holding her at that moment, and it wasn't enough.

Mood blackening by the second, she picked the last year apart in her mind. She'd let him down, and she'd made so many mistakes; Not just this one, either. Every little slight she could remember, all the times mom told her not to worry about what dad thought. Every poisonous whisper. She didn't even think they were deliberate, that was the kicker. Mom...mom had stopped taking dad seriously. He was... well, he was just there. Mom had convinced her to look at him the same way. To take him for granted. It wasn't Suzie's fault. It was her mom's. She knew that wasn't true, not in her heart of hearts, but if she tried really, really hard, Suzie could almost believe it.

When the sun came up, she tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail again. She kept trying, despite her father's advice, even knowing everything was already hopeless. Maybe, just maybe, there would be something mom really could do. If that was true, it needed to happen now, before the last little pieces of dad's love was gone forever. Every hour, straight to voicemail.

Maddie checked in with her at lunchtime, and half-dragged her naked ass out of bed and into pyjamas, insisting she needed to eat something. It was only strawberry jam sandwiches, but it was something, and now that she was calmer, she told her about her talk with her dad. Maddie's judgement was cruel in its simplicity, "Sounds like you've really fucked things up, the pair of you."

Suzie couldn't disagree, at least not anymore, but the fury she felt at herself was nothing compared to the ever-mounting rage she felt for her mother, something she was having to consciously keep control of. After that, Maddie reinstalled her on the now soup-free couch, wrapped in her comforter again and they half-watched a nonsensical reality TV bitchfest marathon while they talked.

Maddie shared some things about herself that Suzie hadn't known before, stuff she said was nobody's business but hers. It turned out the home Madison had grown up in was what she described as a tomb dedicated to her parents' marriage, although it hadn't always been that way. Some time around age nine, her mother moved into the guest room. Young enough, she said, for it to be normal, but old enough to remember what things had been like before that. From that point forward, there had always been a slight chill in air, an undercurrent of polite indifference lurking just under the front of cordiality and idle chatter her parents were making for her benefit. She'd asked many times why, but they were never really willing to go into it, and it was only at a family gathering when she was fifteen that she managed to corner her quite drunk aunt Stacy, her mother's sister, who told her in secret about her father's several affairs. It all made sense after that. They separated the day she moved out to college, and she'd been glad.

So her advice was simple, but a little unhelpful: "Some things are meant to end, so stay out of it. It's best not to meddle." Suzie couldn't do that, but promised her that at the very least, she wasn't going to do anything to make things worse. Not deliberately, anyway. She was going to try to be better.

By the end of that Sunday evening, she'd tried to reach her mother a dozen more times, and the fires of resentment and pain that lapped at her heart had started to temper something inside her. When she finally went to bed, she didn't feel any better and she didn't feel like sleep. The black mood haunted her, settling into her bones. She knew she was going to have to do something, anything, to fix it. She'd told her dad she could fix it. She checked the app, to see if there were any answers to the desperate pleas. All of them were still marked unread. Carefully, one-by-one, Suzie removed every unread message from the chat. Instead, she sent 'You need to talk to dad.'

She made one last phone call to that woman, one last attempt, and just like before, there was no answer. The stupid bitch was still living her wicked, hateful little fantasy. Well, she'd tried. She'd tried too much. She was done.

Something ethereal but important quietly ruptured within her, and a distant and monolithic yet inexplicable tension was released. There was one way left to fix it, even a little, but it would hurt.

Suzie hadn't even known there were sides to pick before yesterday, even though it turned out she'd chosen one years ago, but there it was; She'd picked the wrong side, and she wasn't going to make that same mistake again. She was with daddy from now on, all the way, even if he didn't want her any more, even if they never shared a single genuine moment again for the rest of their lives. It was the least she could do after this. He was the only one person she could hope to help now, so she reached out, just in case; He didn't answer the phone either. She'd leave him alone, then. That was fine, or at least Suzie desperately hoped that was okay: It had to be. After all, she couldn't go back, at least for now, he'd made that clear enough, so she'd move forward. He needed space, so he'd have it, and she needed to prove she was still worth something. Not just a wet hole, that's what her daddy had called that woman. She'd be more.

After a few more minutes, she sent another message to that woman, 'I'm going to be busy with school for a while. We'll talk later.' That would do, until she could talk to her daddy again. Then she could do what was right.

Eventually, sleep came, and on Monday morning her eyes snapped open decisively.

It was still unread, and her mood solidified; her mind was no longer filled with cotton wool, and her vision was clear. The feeling that had been slowly settling over her like a shroud had now hardened into something sharp, and for the first time in her short life, she really, truly grasped the shape of lasting hatred.

It was a holiday weekend, and she'd managed to waste two days of Maddie's precious time with her nonsense, bless her, so she had to show that she had it together, that she had a hold of her self. She'd make the most of the time she had left, go and pretend to have fun, and then do coursework like a good girl. Somehow, she would make the best of it and get on with her life, just like her daddy told her to.

She took her time getting ready. Suzanna had plain oatmeal for breakfast. She brushed her teeth, took a shower, and blow-dried her hair. She carefully applied makeup, something she had often done without, not to be more attractive, not ostentatious, but as a mask. Before, it had been a game, a playful way to announce herself to the world, but she had a different purpose now, and the girl underneath had looked tired. Used up. Slowly, she plastered on a natural look, with concealer to hide the dark circles under her eyes, a touch of highlighting to add the illusion of a healthy glow, along with a little mascara and a subtle, sheer lip tint. Finally satisfied that the thing underneath had been successfully buried, and finally feeling a little more human, she gave one small, sharp nod to the stern-faced woman in the mirror.

She could hear movement in the apartment. Good, Maddie was up and about. Her friend had been a rock for these last two days, and she had to make it up to her - she'd go out there and let her know how grateful she was. There was only today left before they were back in college, but they could do something together, go somewhere Maddie wanted to do, where she could be a friendly face. She could put on a smile and an easy laugh for Maddie, and make this one day remaining effortless and enjoyable for her. It would be good practice for her.

Picking out an outfit was challenging. Every last piece of underwear was obscene. Each lacy, minimal item a showcase for her immorality. Balconettes, quarter cups, and tiny thongs, lacy and translucent. Slutty little things that barely qualified as garments. Exactly what she deserved, and a suitable reward. Flimsy and salacious. Available. Whorish. It took time to make exactly the right choices, but having picked out the most degrading, she started the search for something to hide them. She couldn't slice that woman's legacy out of this cursed body, those poisonous, unwanted genes, but she could bind them in darkness. All that mattered was what showed on the surface, and it would take something special to shackle the thing underneath so the world didn't see through the illusion. That was what counted, but the wardrobe thwarted her there, too. It was all frivolous, casual, and gaudy items, with not enough real clothes. She gave up for now, and made do with a pair of jeans and an off-white blouse, but where were the no-nonsense garments that said she meant business? Even the footwear was a disaster; Too many childish trainers, and the glittery fuck-me shoes were no better. Not sensible at all, but at least the tallest heels might be useful for now, with constant discomfort serving as a reminder of her worth. Why didn't she have anything formal in black?

Finally satisfied that she'd made some progress towards the appearance of decency, she inspected the final product in the mirror; None of it was quite good enough, but that was something to work on later, a real wardrobe.

Feeling like she'd scraped back a tiny fraction of the thick, secret filth that coated her, fully assembled, and ready to face the world, she picked up the phone again. With narrowed eyes, Suzanna tapped the contact. Block.

EPILOGUE:

The chapel was lit with cheery, almost golden light.

Suzanna felt it wasn't thematically appropriate. Funerals should be stark; Grey, sombre things, and she'd said as much to her husband Matthew in a hushed tone when they arrived. At least the flowers were okay - white lilies. They'd met and married late, but that wasn't her fault. She had focused on work, on making something of herself, and although there had been others, they didn't take her seriously; She wasn't going to be some useless leech, a simpering stay-at-home brood-mare, and only Matthew did it properly, taking her at her word. When her father called her to give his assent, thats when she finally knew he was the one. She smiled at him with a brief flash of warmth as she remembered the moment, before leaving him in charge of both of their gangly teenagers.

She turned smartly toward the casket, pausing to smooth down the lines of her blazer and pencil skirt before pacing firmly across the hardwood floor, each stike of her stiletto heels making sharp retorts against the hardwood floor, as she headed forward alone to make one last, personal goodbye before the service got underway.

Despite appearances, it was the third saddest moment of her life. It was narrowly beaten out of second place by the feeling of how cold her little baby was, her poor sweet little Marianne, but it was still far distant from that day; The last day he really talked to her. He'd been there for at least a dozen big moments of happiness and sadness, walked her down the aisle, and turned up for the birth of each one of her precious children, but they'd never really talked. Not like that, anyway, not honestly, not since it happened. She'd tried, so very hard she'd tried, but he was right. There's some stuff you can't walk back, and all you can do is learn from it.

She rested her hands on the rim, hoping it didn't stain the white silk lining, which felt too clean and too pure for the touch of her fingertips, and she looked down at him, feeling utterly helpless in the face of death. In time, that woman joined her, standing alongside and also looking down at her father. Without looking up, the unwanted intruder gently said "I'm so very sorry, Suzie."

It hung in the air for a moment, before Suzanna turned bodily to her, one hand whipping free while the other fiercely tightened its grip on the rim of the casket like a live wire. Then her face came alive, contorting at the terrible thing she had heard.

"Not once! NOT ONCE!" she shrieked at her mother, instantly growing wild-eyed with rage.

Tabitha reared back in horror, as a huge glob of spittle landed on her face.

"You don't get to call me that!" her daughter shouted, stepping forward, "Nobody does, and not you! Never you!"

She pointed at the corpse. "Not until he does!"

Tabby's face slumped. They'd only made up for the grandchildren, she knew that, but in the moment she'd forgotten the distance between them. She still didn't really understand why just that one little thing was so important, but she knew she shouldn't have said it. "I'm sorry Suzanna," she said with quiet defeat, "I'm so sorry."

She watched helplessly as her Suzie spun on her heels and ran down the aisle, stumbling past the gathering well-wishers, and out to the lobby, face crumpled in grief at the reminder of the words which were never going to come. The gathering crowd of mourners silently observed both of them with a mix of curiousity and shock.

Matthew handed his mother-in-law a handkerchief, before hurrying after his wife.

It wasn't meant to be this way, Tabby thought sadly to herself, wiping the sputum from her cheek, filled with complex feelings which almost overwhelmed her.

Just for a moment she had seen her little girl again, and each time was precious in its own way. The Suzanna she showed to the world was domineering in her confidence, always calm, and always even-handed, but Suzie... What remained of her precious Suzie was feral, but even then, her rage felt better than nothing.

If it ended anywhere, it had ended when she turned off her phone. She'd just wanted to immerse herself in the moment, to shut out the rest of the world for a couple of days of meaningless fun, so she'd shared her excitement in a two minute call with Suzie and then powered down the device for the weekend. What followed was meant to be a break, a simple hiatus, and it didn't count. Her real life didn't restart until that simple look from Jack when she walked back into their house. Not their home anymore, but she didn't know that, not then. It was a blank look, not a smile, or a scowl, or even a glare; Not any of the looks she was used to getting from him. An almost dismissive glance, made with slightly red eyes. She'd expected some coolness, of course, so she ignored it, and headed upstairs on to unpack. That was when she turned the phone back on, and there were only two messages, along with one voicemail, garbled and unintelligable. Nothing from Jack, which was a little surprising. She'd half-expected an essay.

One of the things that first drew her to him was how, given time, he would dissect other people's half-baked opinions with surgical precision. She'd seen him casually destroy people out-of-hand, just by repeating their own opinion back at them, rephrased to make them sound weird, monstrous, or foolish. That was part of the reason she left the way she did - she didn't want to give him that time, the time he needed to think and consider, and to convince her not to go. But he gave her nothing, and with relief she had decided it meant acceptance.