He saw her from inside the library. She was so striking as she strumming her guitar he nearly dropped his books. He gave the librarian his card and watched as she readjusted herself away from the middle of the steps. She sat there like she had all the time in the world watching nothing. She starred at the ground and he liked the way her brown hair moved when she let her head fall to watch her fingers glide across the strings. He decided there, he’d go out and find more about her. It had been nearly a year since a relationship had worked for him. This would be an excellent time to break his own record.
He walked outside to hear her strumming Vanessa Carlton. He could remember the song but not the name.
“It’s alright, and I put myself in his hands and I hold onto his secrets. Love, something ignites in my veins,. And I pray it never fades. In white houses.” She stopped and looked up at him.
“Oh I didn’t want you to stop, it was beautiful.”
She smiled widely.
“The guitar or my voice?” she asked with humor in her voice. He could spot a hint of a French accent.
“Are you visiting?” he asked. “They might arrest you for sitting on the steps in front of the library. They just might, I’m concerned.” He laughed. She laughed.
“No I’m not visiting and yes, unfortunately I’m French. You Americans are very rude with your jokes about us surrendering a lot.”
“Well miss…” he trailed off expecting her name.
“Jonna, Jonna LaSal.”
“Well, Miss LaSal, I apologize on behalf of the American people.”
“You’re very cute Mr…”
“Call me Alex. Or you can call me A.J.”
“A.J. is sexier.” She said twisting her face in a cat like manner.
“You need help up?” he asked extending his hand.
“I’m quite capable.” She said standing.
“You speak good English. Probably better than mine.” She laughed. “I wish. Now give me your number A.J.”
“A.J.” she said softly.
He held the phone to his ear annoyingly. “Hello?” he asked. He was cleaning his apartment which was in shambles for the last few rent parties that he had not cleaned up afterwards. He had seen his share of spiders and a flood of cockroaches in his friend’s apartment below had prompted an immediate exit and his apartment an immediate clean-up.
“A.J.” she said a little louder. He recognized the voice. It was Jonna. She sounded so small and helpless. He may have hated her recent ways to make him feel guilty but he still cared for her.
“Help me.” She sobbed, “I don’t want to die.”
“Jonna, what the hell?” he shot and she cried loudly. “Where-” he paused. “I’m coming Jonna.” There was only one place she was if she had called from home.
”Pretty Jonna, why do I have to give you my number? Why can’t you give me your number?” he cooed at her. She laughed as they walked down the street to a nearby restaurant. He carried her guitar by the strap. It was an old, wooden guitar worn with heavy age and it’s strap was the newest addition to the tired instrument.
“Because handsome boy, why does it rain?”
“Uh…” he trailed off thinking hard. “It’s that “e” word. I learned it in middle school or something.” She laughed as he still thought hard.
“Evaporation.”
“Yes!” he yelled and she laughed loudly throwing her head back. She was so beautiful. Her short brown hair flowed with her movements and her bangs hung just above her dark brown eyes. “Evaporation. The water from the ocean and stuff like that float up into the sky and then clouds are formed and then the cloud decided it’s gotta pee.”
“That’s disgusting.” She grinned pushing him playfully.
“Jonna!” he said unlocking the door with the key she had given him two weeks after they had met. He ran in the room. There was so much blood, so much blood. He dropped down to his knees by her side. She starred at him through fading eyes.
He didn’t notice the smashed pictures or the holes in the walls. He didn’t notice the broken vase or the hanging light bulb from her shattered lamp. He didn’t notice the Jack Daniel bottles here and there. He didn’t see her mirror in pieces on the floor that had sliced into the blue carpet covering the floor. He didn’t see the razor that had been unintentionally pushed under her couch or the bloody hand print that streaked off of her couch.
“I-I-I…”
“Shh…” he said as he dialed 9-1-1.
“No.” she whispered, “I want to die.” She had pushed those words out. He ignored her.
“Hello 9-1-1, what is your emergency.”
“Yes, yes. Uh I just found my friend. She, I don’t know what happened. I think she tried to kill herself. You need to hurry up.”
“Yes, is she conscious?” the operator asked as he grabbed the roll of paper towel from the wall, and ran into the living room.
“Jonna!” he yelled and her eyes blinked open. He began to wrap her wrist in paper towel tightly. “Yes, yeah she is.”
“Where are you?”
“At her house, 2735 Carlton Avenue.” He answered quickly. He began to wrap her left arm.
She winced as he wrapped the paper towel tightly around her arm.
“Someone is on the way. Do you want me to stay on?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I can pay for it.” He said putting a $50 down on the bill.
“That is really not necessary.” She said smiling as she rummaged through her wallet.
“Come on. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t?” he asked raising his eyebrow at her.
“I don’t need a man to take care of me.” She smiled at him.
“I don’t need a man to take care of me.” Jonna pushed from her throat as paramedics loaded her into the ambulance. He climbed in looking at her.
She didn’t need a man, she needed a savior.
