“I don’t know, there were so many, Josh.”
“Come on. Give me something.”
“The eye one,” she said.
“I knew it,” I said.
“What?”
“Why did you like it?”
“Just the way you did it. The close up on someone’s eye…”
It was Michelle’s eye. But that didn’t matter. It was for artistic purposes only.
“What about it?” I asked, pushing at Amelia.
“I don’t know. Just… you created this entire scene in an eye. Like the eye itself was its own world. It was just… inspiring… I don’t know, Josh. You’re making me feel like a weirdo talking about it.”
I put my hand to the door and kept that as a barrier between us.
“You know how I knew you’d love that one, Amelia?” I asked.
“How?”
“Because of your eyes. Because of the way I used to stare at them when you’d talk. You always talked about a bigger and better world. Forever stuck in whatever story you were writing, but were too afraid to tell me about. Yet you did tell me everything. With your eyes. And it doesn’t hurt that your eyes are fucking beautiful, love.”
I reached out with my right hand and gently touched her cheek.
She was frozen for a few seconds.
One second more and I would have slammed the car door shut and pulled her close.
That would be trouble.
My phone buzzed again.
“You’d better answer that soon.”
“Yeah. If not, I’ll get into some hot water.”
“For what?”
I took my hand from her face. “You’d better keep your distance again, Amelia.”
“Really? You’re giving me that cheap line?”
“It’s not cheap. Just look up my name online. It’s not hard to find out what happened.”
“Wait,” she said, grabbing for my arm. “What does that mean?”
“I should be in jail right now, love.”
Chapter 12
Not the Same Smoke
THEN
(Amelia)
Fly, baby, fly.
It used to be fun and cute. It used to be uplifting. It used to be my escape to feel good about life because that’s what Mom wanted me to feel. The world was forever mine, in the palm of my hand, hidden in my eyes, tucked away in my heart, and ready to be rewritten with my mind.
That was all a lie.
The hardest part of life was facing all that stuff.
I guess people were older when they faced it. Once they were eighteen or older, going to college or getting a job. Getting hurt by douchebag guys or getting fired by a douchebag boss. Something with the real world attacking and taking it all away.
For me, it was different.
When I heard Mom yell ‘Fly, baby, fly!’ from down the hallway, I had to move.
And fast.
Okay, fine, I still had some of my old stuffed animals in the corner of my room. They were stacked on top of each other, their eyes always on me. And every time things got bad, I would look at them. The seven-year-old version of Amelia wanted to pack them all up in a bag and run. The seven-year-old version of Amelia said I didn’t need anything else but them. We would travel across the world to a new town, find a new house, and there would be a welcoming family. A family who would take us in and show us the love we deserved.
Again, that was all a lie.
A stupid, rotten, filthy, fucking lie.
When Mom yelled ‘Fly, baby, fly!’ that was my cue to run.
But instead, I was too busy staring at dumb stuffed animals.
My bedroom door blasted open with a crack as loud as summer thunder.
And just like that, my life was now on the line.
As my father swayed to his left to get around my bed, I made a diving move onto it. I looked like I was out of an action movie as I hit my bed, rolled in some kind of somersault, and then was off the bed. But believe me, it wasn’t as smooth and cool as it was in the movies. I stumbled forward and ran right into the wall.
I had been so used to this kind of stuff that I always left my shoes on. I never knew when I was going to need to run again. And there was nothing worse than escaping the house in socks or barefoot. Especially if it was cool or rainy out.
“Princess bitch,” my father growled as I made a spinning move to get out of the open door.
I looked to my right and saw Mom sitting on the floor in the hallway, her back against the wall. The door to their bedroom was open and I saw broken things all over the floor. In our house it was best to not have anything breakable or glass. Mirrors, knickknacks, picture frames… that kind of thing.
Mom had her face buried in her hands.
“Mom?” I called to her.
“Fly, baby, fly,” she said as she sobbed.
I wanted her to look at me, but I knew why she couldn’t. First, it was embarrassment. Then it was fear of what it would do to me to have me see her. As though whatever was done would magically disappear by morning.
“Get back here!” my father’s voice boomed from behind me.
I was on the move again.
I had started taking the steps two at a time. Then I practiced on the weekends how to do three at a time. When my father was sober and calmer, he’d ask what the hell I was doing. So I lied and said it was practice for gym class at school. To help with my fitness test. He was stupid enough to believe it.
Then I started jumping four steps at a time.
Now I was up to five.
The trick was to land on your heels with your knees bent. It helped to keep your balance. And if you did lose your balance then you’d just straighten your legs and launch yourself again. I looked like a goofy kangaroo going down the steps, but there was nothing goofy about what would happen if I didn’t make my daring escape.
I opened the front door at the bottom of the steps but didn’t use it.
Instead, I ran through the house to the back door.
I was outside and mostly free as I ran through the backyard and just kept going.
I couldn’t think about anything else.
I just had to keep going.
So I did.
From my backyard through the neighbor’s yards, at least a block or two before I cut to get to the sidewalk. That’s when I stopped running and changed to a normal walk. I didn’t want to look suspicious to anyone.
As I took deep breaths to calm my nerves a little, I smelled something.
It was stinky.
It made my nose curl.
I heard a squeaky giggle.
“Hello?” I called out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. We’re busted, man.”
“Shit, Abel, calm down,” another voice said.
Straight ahead, someone popped out of the bushes.
I saw something in his hand as I gasped and hurried to stop.
“Amelia?” a voice said.
I crept closer and smiled.
It was Josh.
He somehow appeared again just when I needed someone.
“Guys, fuck off,” he ordered. “And take that crap with you.”
“This is my crew, homey,” one of the guys said.
“Murph, you’re high as a kite,” Josh said. “Go away.”