Chapter Six #2
She looks at me, her eyes softening, the invitation clear. “Let me in, Nate. Tell me why.”
A tightness coils in my chest, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
The weight of years of hiding, of pushing people away, presses down on me, and the familiar urge to shut down stirs.
I clench my hands together, feeling the tremor there, the vulnerability I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding.
Letting someone in—especially Ria—feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, uncertain of the fall.
I release a long, shuddering breath, my shoulders sagging under the weight of her gaze.
My eyes drop to the ground as I nod, fighting the fear and hoping, just maybe, I can finally trust someone enough to share this part of me.
“When I was five, my mother was putting me to bed. She was reading to me and, in turn, teaching me how to read. She was trying to get me to read to her. I couldn’t get the words right, no matter how hard I tried.
I kept messing it up, and she started breathing heavily.
I thought she was angry with me, so I tried harder.
I really tried, but she clutched at her chest and cried out in agony.
I had no idea what I’d done wrong, but she was in so much pain, and I thought I’d caused it… ” I take a deep breath.
“I was young, I didn’t know any better… she was panting, heaving for air, and she was passing in and out of consciousness right in front of me.
Her face was bright red, her eyes vacant.
She wasn’t with me, but the whole time, I remember the intense strain on her face, the tight fists her hands were clenched in, and my screams echoing through the house.
I was so young, I had no idea she was having a massive heart attack, and she died right in front of me on my bed… ”
My heart races as my breathing quickens, and I pause for a second, trying to regain my composure.
“I haven’t been able to read since. I panic every time I’m supposed to read anything. That memory, that time, it all floods back. Her face, her pain. I associate words with Mom’s death, and I can’t get past it.”
Ria exhales, her eyes glistening with an intense sparkle like she’s trying so hard to keep it together.
I know the feeling.
I despise talking about this.
To be honest, I’m not sure I have actually spoken about this to anyone.
Now that the door is open, I can’t help but continue, “So, obviously, Matt knows I associate reading with Mom’s death, and trying to read dredges up the memories of her.
What he doesn’t know is how I couldn’t cope with the feelings.
Sure, he knew I struggled as a kid. Matt knew I was considered the loser twin, the one that everyone looked down on.
He tried so hard to help me, but the problem was me.
Knowing I couldn’t read and couldn’t further myself in any way made it hard to think anything other than lowly of myself.
Growing up with the loser mentality—” She tries to interrupt, but I put up my hand and continue, “No! Me thinking it, everyone else thinking it, it fucks with your head.”
I give her a small smile, and her eyes twinkle with understanding.
“Matt protected me the best he could. He knew I was suffocating and suffering, but he didn’t know the extent of the inner demons I was fighting.
The inner guilt, the inner doubt, the inner hate of myself.
I can’t read, and it’s because every time I tried, I’d have nightmares about killing Mom all over again…
” I pause, trying to rein in my inner panic.
“Do you know how fucked up that is? Feeling like you killed your Mom because you were trying to read?”
She gasps and tightens her hand on my knee while I watch her bottom lip quiver. “Nate, you know that’s not true, right? There’s no way, no possible way you’re to blame for your mom’s death. It was a heart attack. There was nothing you could’ve done to save her.”
I smile weakly. “The fucked up thing is, I know that. I know it’s not my fault now.
How can you kill someone by reading, right?
But I was five and didn’t know any better.
I grew up thinking I’d caused it, and somehow, in my fucked up head, it’s ingrained in me now that reading is like a death sentence.
So instead of reading, I turned to other vices to cope and make it through the tough times. ”
“Music?” She raises a brow.
“And art. They both helped to pull my emotions out. With percussion, I was able to take my anger out on the skins. Smashing them made it easy to release my frustrations of the day on something other than people’s faces, which I was doing until Matt introduced me to music.”
“You have a lot to thank him for,” Ria suggests.
“I do… art, on the other hand, was something that came to me naturally. I’ve drawn ever since I could hold a pencil, and although my drawings started off dark in my younger years, they gradually flourished into actual artistry.
I found somewhere I could go where no one could find or judge me, and I just expressed myself on paper or canvas when I could afford it.
Matt never knew the extent of my drawing capabilities because I kept it so completely hidden from him.
I found a place where I could be Nate, the artist. A space to be myself, to let go, to stop caring about anyone or anything.
A place where my emotions spill onto the canvas, flowing through the tip of the brush.
Painting helps me feel. It’s how I write the words I simply can’t. ”
She smiles. “That’s beautiful, Nate. I’m glad you have an outlet. I’m so sorry you had such a hard childhood, though. It kills me to think of how difficult you had it.”
Swallowing hard, I nod. “It was challenging. Kids would beat me for being a ‘dumbass,’ as they so cruelly put it. Matt would always fend them off as best he could. He tried, he really did, but he still doesn’t know the extent of the damage done to me in school.
I kept most of the beatings and torment from him.
Losing my mom really threw me off course, and I was floating in the wind.
I was, still am, kind of…” I think for a moment about the word I need to use. “Lost.”
Ria sniffs beside me, and I glance up to see a few tears falling down her cheeks.
“Oh shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
She shakes her head, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, then places her hand on my knee, squeezing it tightly.
“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just…
I lost my dad when I was young too. So, believe me, I know how that can affect someone’s psyche.
Don’t worry, you’re not strange, it’s not bad, but you’re relating reading to your mom’s death.
No wonder you’ve been avoiding learning.
But, Nate, you’re a grown man now, and as much as it hurts, you need to push past it.
You’ve been doing so well, considering, and I had no idea that was the reason. ”
Sighing, I feel a weight lift just by telling her. “No one apart from you knows the full extent of it. Matt knows some, of course. Danger and Ryan know our mom died, but they don’t know how much it affected me in the process.”
“I’m proud of you for telling me and, more than that, for trusting me.
I can only imagine how hard this has been on you over the years.
” She leans in, hugging me tightly, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her to me.
Her hair smells terrific, and even though I feel lighter from getting that out, I need her comfort right now.
She pulls back, but not far, still in my arms. Her face is so close to mine as she looks me in the eyes.
We’ve done this dance so many times that I’m not sure if I can handle another rejection right now.
My breathing quickens as my heart races in my chest. Her lips part infinitesimally, but I won’t make a move this time.
We’re staring at each other, both breathing erratically, electricity surging between us, sparking off in all directions.
It’s almost too much for me to take when her eyes sparkle, and it’s like something clicks and registers on her face.
She rushes forward, her lips crashing to mine, taking me by surprise.
Her hands run up my chest and neck, then into my hair.
Breaking free from the shock, I open my mouth, kissing her back as I close my eyes, relishing in the moment of being with Ria.
I move one hand, resting it on her back while the other caresses her cheek.
The kiss is sensual, deep, and full of passion—everything I want it to be.
Our tongues collide in a flurry of desire.
It’s intense and lasts longer than I imagined our first kiss would, but I’m not complaining, not at all.
I’m fucking enjoying every single second of it as I pant through my nose for air.
Suddenly, Ria pulls back, breaking the kiss as she slides away from me like I have a disease or something, and her hand flies to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
Furrowing my brows, I shake my head slowly. “Why? It was amazing?”
She stands, starting to pace. “No! We’re friends. That’s all this can ever be, Nate.”
My stomach sinks while my chest aches. I breathe heavily as I watch Zaria pace back and forth, almost in a state of panic.
“Okay, I’d better go.”
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort, and then she turns and walks inside. I stand, feeling deflated and annoyed that she obviously denies her attraction to me, but I gather my stuff and head through the house, where Ria is now nowhere to be seen.
I let myself out with a hollow feeling settling in my chest.