the ordeal of being known
: Chapter 25

Layla

Their flight landed in the early afternoon. Samira welcomed them and they ended up ordering room service to the hotel room to eat and rest a little before going out to the antique store Onika wanted to visit.

Samira naturally got along with everyone. She was a huge fan of Onika’s. Mateo was in a better mood already. Layla couldn’t be happier to see her little sister.

When everyone went to take a nap, Jess stayed. Layla headed to the bathroom, and Samira turned to Jess with a very excited smile. Samira loved love.

“You’re Layla’s,” she said to him.

“YES,” Jess wrote in big letters with a proud look in his eyes.

“I suppose you’re alright. I wouldn’t have recommended going for a blond man, but what can we do?” Jess grinned at her.

“Are you happy for her?” he wrote down. The question was general; the girl stared at it for a while.

“My sister lost her smile. Did you know that?”

“She did?”

“Yes, but she’s always smiling in her pictures with you guys.” She gestured around.

“She smiles at me, for me, not them. Really, she would never smile because of Kione and Matty makes her mad all the time. Alright, she might smile at Celia, but otherwise not.”

Samira rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes she smiles at you.” She pointed at her eyes. “And her eyes, they aren’t so sad anymore.”

Samira’s friends and their parents, who all adored her, decided they wanted to celebrate her. She had perfect grades, she was her teachers’ favorite student, and she had won the science fair at her school. Everyone was happy because it was important to Samira. Her joy was contagious.

Layla had left early the next day to help Samira prepare the house for guests. It was the first time she’d seen her mother in over a year. When she opened the door, she watched Layla like a hawk.

“So, do you hate yourself yet, Layla?” her mother asked smugly. She looked at her expectantly, like she was so sure Layla had been so miserable after leaving home.

“Only when I think of you, mama.” Layla smiled. She said the last word mockingly, like it was a joke. Her mother’s eyes flashed with that familiar anger.

Ah, normalcy.

Throughout the night, Layla spent most of the time observing and listening to people praise Samira. She felt so proud she was close to bursting.

Jess, sweet Jess, had texted random words, some she didn’t know the meaning of, and told her to guess what they meant. He constantly asked if she was okay or if she needed something.

Layla wondered if that’s what it was like having a support system. She never had anyone who checked on her when she was stressing in her mom’s presence.

Layla to the audience: I would have turned out to be much more likable if I had this.

At the end of it, Layla was anxious to leave. She’d already texted everyone to come pick her up so that they could go grab some dinner.

“Oh! Before you leave, I have something for you.” Samira ran upstairs. When she came down, she had a horrible looking handmade card in her hand. Layla couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her.

“What’s this?”

“I know it not pretty okay? I’ve held onto it since Mother’s Day because I wanted to see your face when I gave it to you.”

Every Mother’s Day, Samira would buy their mother a pretty card and then attempt to make Layla’s, caught up in the moment the sisters both forgot to take into consideration that their mother never knew about Samira giving her sister a gift meant for mothers.

“Why would you give her a Mother’s Day card?” she asked. Immediately, Layla’s body was alert. Samira hadn’t noticed anything yet, but Layla would recognize that awful tone anywhere.

“I do it every year because Layla loves art.” Samira smiled. She looked up and noticed her mother’s crazed look.

The effect was instant. Samira’s smile disappeared in a second, her bright eyes dimmed and she flinched.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. She fumbled with the paper, and it fell. “I’m sorry, mama, it’s just a silly thing I do every year. I didn’t mean to upset anyone.” Their mother had never laid hands on Samira, but nothing could stop her from being emotionally abusive. Samira was a people pleaser. She would always try to fix everything.

Layla slowly stepped in front of her sister.

“It’s alright.” Their mother laughed loudly. It was high pitched and forced.

Hearing the familiar high-pitched sound from his office, her father called out to Samira, claiming he needed help with something. He hadn’t looked in Layla’s direction all night; he acted like she didn’t exist.

Samira looked at her, and Layla gave a slight nod. Her sister left the living room and Layla heard the sound of the office door clicking shut, leaving her on the opposite side of her mother’s anger.

It was like she’d never gotten out.

Layla started cleaning around a little, ignoring the woman who stood as still as a statue, her mouth twisting in displeasure.

Layla checked her phone again and again, waiting for Jess to text her that he was outside.

“Why would she give you a Mother’s Day card? As a joke? What kind of nonsense did you fill her head with? Do you think being a mother is a joke? You would never understand the kind of respect we had for our mothers. Even at their worst, we stood by their side. No matter what they did, they were still honored and loved.”

“Oh, fuck off, will you?” Layla said, lightly slapping her mother’s finger away from her face. It felt good to say that out loud.

“How dare you speak to me that way? How dare you lay your hands on me?” her mother screamed. “I am your mother!”

“You’re not a mother.” Layla said calmly, then because she had never spoken her mind to her mother, she decided it was about time. “Your life won’t amount to anything, you have no accomplishments, your husband is a loser, your mother hates you, your family is a bunch of adultering hypocrites, and Samira will never forget the terror you caused in her home. You will always be second to me in her heart, do you understand? You are nothing.”

Everything happened so quickly. Layla could hear the sound of a car door closing, the sound of footsteps before her mother shrieked. She was prepared to push her away. Her mother had never left a mark on her. It was the smart decision on her behalf, so Layla’s brain wasn’t prepared when Sharon grabbed the cup of tea nearby and hurled the contents on her just as the door was broken. The hot tea landed on her hand, and some around her neck. Layla didn’t realize her mother was lunging at her again before someone pushed her away. She looked up in time to see Onika, of all people, pushing Sharon.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Onika asked.

The office door opened again. Layla hoped her dad had the brains to tell Samira to stay inside.

“My sister can’t see this,” Layla said. Jess looked at her with so much pain. Mateo moved to the hallway and luckily, a few minutes later, her dad was the only one staring at them. “She had a good day. I don’t want to ruin it.”

Layla was still standing in the same spot. Her arms were hurting a little. She should put some cold water on them.

She was being led out of the house. She turned her head to see her father reaching for Sharon, who had a hand on her heart. She felt a little giggle escape her at the sight.

Layla to the audience: I need to get Onika the best present in the world.

“Wait, what about my sister?”

“Your brother was in there as well. I told him to take your sister and let her sleep at her grandparents’ house for a couple of days, and he agreed.”

The car ride was pure chaos, everyone asking if she was okay, asking if they should go to the hospital. Layla guessed there was no convincing Jess not to take her to the hospital. She knew the burns were likely first-degree burns since the tea wasn’t boiling hot, but it still hurt and her skin was red. Jess kept looking at it, his jaw clenched. He was gripping the wheel so hard his hands were white.

There was a red light.

“How are you so calm?” Mateo exploded at her.

Jess turned around and gave him a chilling glare. “You’ll keep your mouth shut,” he signed, and the look of warning in his eyes made everyone stay quiet for the rest of the ride.

“It’s okay. It’s probably superficial,” she mumbled. She didn’t have to look at the mirror to see the sad look they were giving her.

At the hospital, the nurse said it was first-degree burns, so the treatment was quite simple. Layla just needed to be alone for a few minutes. She needed the safety of isolation, of knowing no one could see her fall.

The hospital visit was quick, but even a quick visit could not have shielded the highest paid model in the world, three Lakers players, a well-known artist and one of the most successful talk show hosts from someone’s phone. In a few minutes, the video was everywhere. Their phones started blowing up, and Layla closed her eyes. She had never had the urge to cry with so many people around.

Back at the hotel, Layla hesitated in front of her room. Jess was looking at her desperately. She ignored everyone else’s looks and handed him her room key. Jess opened it and she followed, leaving everyone else outside.

Layla felt her legs give out as soon as the door closed. He rushed and carried her over to the bed as gently as possible.

“It hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart, let me make better.” He applied some more petroleum jelly on the areas where it hurt and kissed her forehead.

“I should have known something was up,” he said. “You looked so scared to be back here. I should have paid more attention.”

“Stop. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. You keep trying to make it sound like it’s not a big deal, and it’s breaking my heart, Layla, sweetheart you get to be upset over this, you get to be angry about it.”

“Many people had it worse.”

“That doesn’t take away from how horrible they treated you.”

“You don’t understand. So what if my mother hit me a couple of times? So what if my father hates my existence? Other women end up in hospitals. What’s a couple of slaps and scratches compared to that? It wasn’t that bad for me.”

“You think you had to end up in a hospital beaten half to death for it to be called abuse?”

She felt the question press against her chest; she had told herself that she was lucky. That other people had it worse. That at least she could survive.

“Yes,” she whispered. Jess turned away, but she could see him wipe away his tears as fast as he could. She climbed in and made room for him.

She let him hold her; she slept in his arms for a few hours. There were no nightmares, nothing. She roused to the sensation of his finger playing with her hair. She looked up and found him studying her. She arched into his touch and pulled his hand closer to her heart and pressed a kiss over it before falling asleep again.

When she woke again, Jess was asleep. She went to the bathroom to freshen up.

Layla to the audience: I miss my cat.

After only a few seconds, she heard the commotion of someone sprinting out of bed before he pushed open the bathroom door. Layla was brushing her teeth. Jess walked in with his hair messed up, his eyes barely open when he spotted her.

“You weren’t in bed,” he signed before walking behind her to hold her.

“You were sleeping” She paused. “How do you sleep in jeans?”

“It wasn’t thinking about my comfort, sweetheart.”

“Stop with the pet name.”

“How do you feel?”

“I’m fine.”

Layla took out his toothbrush. Jess picked her up easily. She kind of liked being picked up like she weighed nothing. He set her down and kissed her palm.

“Open,” she told him. Jess held on to her waist and closed his eyes while she brushed his teeth.

When she finished, they went back to bed. This time, when he laid her down, she pulled him in and kissed him. Jess gently returned the kiss. It held nothing of the passion of their first kiss.

She tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back.

“No?”

“Don’t you think it’s bad timing?” he asked.

“I need one good memory in this stupid town,” she told him. It was simple. He couldn’t help but give it to her. He’d give her whatever she asked for.

Jess kissed her again and again. She was so dizzy with lust she almost forgot there was more to it. He took her clothes off, one piece at a time until she was naked and he was fully clothed. She did not expect to like that, but she did.

When he pulled back to stare at her, she let him. She’d always loved her body, and she wanted to see the look in his eyes that revealed just how much he liked looking at her. He was the only one who made her want to constantly be looked at and adored.

She tried to take his clothes but he wouldn’t let her, instead he pressed feather light kisses all over her thighs. Layla flipped them over and got on top of him. She squeezed his neck lightly.

“I’ll kill you,” she huffed. “Stop teasing me.”

“I have never been threatened before sex before. I have to ask you to stop because I might finish in my very expensive Ralph Lauren pants.”

“You’ll fuck me then?”

“Only if you admit you want me really, really bad. Preferably using vulgar words.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” she said, kissing his neck, sucking the skin into her mouth, leaving her mark. He had always wanted to be devoured, and she had been fantasizing about sinking her teeth into him and keeping a part of him inside her. If she were to consume him, he’d always be part of her.

Jess flipped them over and started kissing down her body. He reached her thigh, kissing, biting, teasing, but never where she wanted him to.

Layla was clinging to his shoulders. Whenever she got frantic and demanding, he would pull back and look at her. She was beautiful like this; it felt very private, something no one else ggotet to see. Her hair was sprawled out on the bed, her mouth looked thoroughly kissed. She pulled his hair in an attempt to get him to kiss her again, but it was easy to distract her. Her neck was her most sensitive spot, another thing that felt private and intimate, knowledge that was his alone.

When she attempted to pull away to kiss his neck, he chased her mouth. She could barely breathe without smelling his cologne. He was everywhere, and she loved it a little too much.

When she bucked her hips, he signed, chuckling, “Have you always been a liar?”

When he let her take his clothes off, she couldn’t help but touch him everywhere. He was so beautiful, and he was hers. Layla’s head was pounding in disbelief. He was hers. It was written in the way he kept looking at her.

Layla to the audience: Having a real penis inside me is strange. The real things… pulsed, like it was living, and the thought isn’t particularly nice to think about.

Jess fucked her gently at first. He held her too close, like she might slip through his finger, then with a bit more desperation as he stared at her, he kept edging her, watching her, waiting for her praise. He wanted every noise, every reaction. He picked her up to fuck her in different corners of the room.

He stopped only when she was a mess in his arms, when he had to hold her upright because her legs were shaking.