Home > Come to Me Quietly(26)

Come to Me Quietly(26)
Author: A. L.Jackson

 

Resentful laughter tumbled from my twisted mouth when I noticed where I’d ended up.

 

Of course. Directly across from the old neighborhood.

 

Shocking.

 

I was drawn here just as strongly as I’d been drawn back to Phoenix. Just an empty ache that called to me. Taunted me. I came to a rolling standstill, easing my bike off the side of the street just opposite to the spot that had been my everything and where I’d tried to end it all.

 

The field used to be open. There had only been a wooden fence that separated it from the old neighborhood that bordered it to the right. The expanse of vacant land had once seemed to go on forever, even though there was another neighborhood off to the far left. But to us, this empty field had been our refuge. We’d play here for hours as if it were the only place in the world that existed.

 

Now a new fence rose at the front of the street, blocking off the area. NO TRESPASSING was boldly stamped on a black sign. Undoubtedly, that sign had been placed there because of me.

 

I just stared, pinned to my bike, my hands kneading on the handlebars. Memories hit me like the worst beating I’d ever gotten in my life, pummeled me as they fell. And it fucking hurt because so many of them were good.

 

My lips twitching with an unshed smile, I was barely able to make out our tree in the distance. I wanted to go to it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It’d once seemed so tall, building it an incredible feat we’d achieved with the brute strength of our hands and the imagination in our minds.

 

So much time was spent there.

 

That place inside me expanded, pushed as it struggled for freedom against its confines.

 

Shit.

 

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes as if doing that would somehow blot out the pictures that spun through my head. For a second, I just wanted to forget. But this was my life.

 

I’d take death over it, any day.

 

But I would live it as a penance for what I had done.

 

 

TWELVE


Aleena

 

 

The next morning when I crept out of my room before dawn, his space on the couch was empty. But I already knew that. I’d heard him leave right after he’d fled my room, and I hadn’t heard him return.

 

Sleep had eluded me the entire night. All I could do was wonder where he had gone and worry if he was okay.

 

I’d pushed him too hard. Too fast.

 

Work passed in a dazed blur. My vision seemed to bleed in and out, and I mumbled as I approached each table, moving through the day in a stupor.

 

It killed me to think I might not ever see Jared again. That he was gone. Stabbing pain sliced through my middle at the thought. I reached to the wall for support and squeezed my eyes to shut it all out.

 

Karina lightly touched me on the back, and I turned and opened my eyes to my boss. She was older, and the top of her head only came to my shoulders. Worry creased her kind face. “You don’t look so good today, Miss Aly. Are you feeling okay?”

 

I shook my head. “I’m kind of sick to my stomach.” It wasn’t a lie.

 

She glanced around the dining room. The small round bistro tables filling the space were dotted with customers, but it wasn’t extremely busy. It was late evening, and the customers sat along the curved bank of windows that overlooked the street, sipping from coffees or enjoying a sweet dessert. “I think we can manage without you for the rest of the night. Why don’t you go on home and get some rest?”

 

She patted my shoulder, and I smiled down at her in appreciation. She had always been a great boss. She’d opened the restaurant years before and made it successful with her own hands. She always treated her staff like family. “Thanks, Karina. I think I’ll be past all this tomorrow.”

 

By past, I meant I’d be either devastated or out of my misery. But whichever I faced, I knew I had to get home.

 

It was relief that washed over me when I pulled around to the front of our building and saw Jared’s bike sitting at the far end of the lot.

 

Easing my car into my spot, I sat for a moment to gather my thoughts. When I got out of the car, I crossed the lot, my legs sluggish as I took the stairs up to our apartment. I could feel it, this unease that had accumulated in the air, built up, and bound itself to my heart.

 

It was confirmed when I opened the door to an even denser sense of tension inside. Jared was here, but instinctively I knew things were not the same. He sat on the couch watching TV by himself, but he barely looked in my direction while I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. I heard Christopher shuffling around in his room. A few seconds later, he came out of his room and rushed down the hall.

 

“Hey, Jared, you feel like going out tonight?” he asked as he ran his hands through the messy locks of his black hair.

 

Jared looked up at him with something akin to a grimace. “Nah, man, I had a long day at work today. Think I’m just going to hang out here and relax.”

 

“Ah, that’s too bad.”

 

Christopher grabbed his keys and tucked his wallet in his back pocket. “Did you have a good day at work, Aly?” he asked with a casual smile as he gathered his things. He didn’t seem to notice the well of emotion that had broken between Jared and me, or how our movements had slowed to match the weight in our chests.

 

“Yeah, it was fine,” I said.

 

“Cool. Well, I’m going to get out of here. Give me a call if you need me.” Then he shut the door behind him without a second thought.

 

Jared barely acknowledged me when I said I was going to grab a shower, just obliged me with a small nod as he turned back to the television in the same motion.

 

I turned the shower as hot as it would go. Steam filled the small room, streams of scalding water assailing my skin. Redness seeped to the surface, and I wished the hot shower could somehow burn the questions from my mind the same way it burned the fatigue from my body. But those questions remained locked tight in the boy sitting out on the couch.

 

Wrapped in a towel, I unlatched the bathroom door and looked down to the end of the short hall into the darkened living room. Flashes from the TV lit the end of the couch, and I could feel him there just as I knew he could feel me. Yet I sensed no movement, no shift in his presence.

 

Out of respect, I left him there because I didn’t really know what to say. How could I take back last night? Because it was my heart. He was my heart. I didn’t regret the fact that I’d invited him to open up to me. I only regretted the reaction he’d had to it.

 

In my room, I dropped my towel to the floor and pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and a tank, then curled up on my side on my bed to stare out the open window. Even though it had waned, the moon still shone bright enough to light up my room. My sketch pad lay on the floor next to my bed, but tonight I didn’t feel like drawing. It had always been my therapy, the way to work out my thoughts, fears, and desires. A way to show my love.

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