Death Card - Part 2

The continuing story of the Death Card.  After I wrote that first part for class, I decided that I wanted to expand on the story by cycling through the points of view of each character.  Now, we meet the nefarious Shelley...

I saw Jake before he saw me, and as I watched him cross the street, I forgot everything I had planned on saying to him.  He looked so angry and hurt, and knowing it was my fault made my stomach churn painfully.  I felt like a black hole had opened up around me, dragging me in, swallowing everything.  His blond hair was messy as usual, and he walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to keep warm.  Right then, he was more attractive to me than ever.

He came up to me and said, "Whatever you think you can accomplish by coming here, think again.  I don't want to talk to you."

"Jake, please listen–"

"No, I'm tired of listening.  I can put up with a lot of fucked up things; I am friends with George, after all.  But you sleeping with another guy is too much."

"But Jake–"

"If telling you is not making things clear, then maybe this will."  He ignored my protests and started unscrewing the cap of his Nalgene.  Inside was some red tissue, and out of that he pulled a playing card.  Slapping the card in my hand, he got in his car and drove away without a look back.

I looked at the card.  It was the Death Card; George's stupid joke that he invented for all the guys.  But this wasn't a joke.  I felt something in me crumple up and die.

As I walked home, Death Card in hand, I criticized myself for all my bad choices.  I didn't know what made me tell Jake about Max on that day, of all days, but it didn't matter anymore.  The truth was out.

They weren't actually friends, but Max did hang out with Jake and his group every once in a while.  At one party, we were all so drunk that no one was really paying attention to what they were doing.  Jake disappeared with George and Freddie, again, and I was pissed.  Alice may have been ok with Freddie taking off without her, and he only ended up cheating on her, but I hated it when Jake did.  Max didn't leave though.  He was mysterious and suave, a definite smooth talker.  Nothing happened that night, but a few more inconsiderate incidents on Jake's part were enough for me to talk myself into making something happen.

I turned the corner to my place, and there was Max, standing outside my door.  It was windy, but not a single dark hair on his head was out of place.  He always dressed immaculately too; today it was a suit coat with a Burberry scarf wrapped around his neck and leather gloves.  Seeing him only made me feel worse.

I walked up to him and said, "What are you doing here?"

"To see if you made good on your threat to tell Jake."

His tone implied that he was sure I hadn't.  That smug voice made me want to puke.  How could I ever have been attracted to this guy?  Jake was so much sweeter.

"Well, I did tell him."

That wiped the smile off his face.  "Why?  What could it possibly accomplish?"

"Oh, I don't know, me not feeling like a traitorous whore, perhaps?"

"So now that you've aired your grievances, everything is ok then?" he said.

"No, it's not, thank you very much.  And I don't appreciate your sarcasm right now.  My life is falling apart."

"Who cares about Jake?  I don't care if he knows.  We can still go on as we've been doing.  In fact, it'll be easier now."

"No, Max, it's over.  It was fun at first, but reality's caught up with me, and I can't do this anymore.  All of my friends are going to know soon, and when they find out, I don't want them to think we're together."

"That's just great.  This whole time I've been sneaking around because you wanted me to, even if it meant watching that dumb blond be with you when it should have been me."

Hearing him call Jake that set me off entirely.  I slapped him across the face.  He stared at me outraged, but I didn't care; I just wanted to get rid of him.  The Death Card was still in my hand.  Flicking it at him, I turned and walked away, going into my house without looking back.