Nineteen
Sawyer
I have an empty house and an empty fridge for the evening. Before she left earlier this evening, Mother stumbled around the house, smearing a ruby red lipstick over her flaking lips and squeezing herself into a dress I had seen her wear in her college photos. A tight-fitting black dress with white spots all over, the seam strangling her thighs as she teased her rusty locks into a ponytail tight enough to rip every follicle from her scalp if the tail was pulled at any point.
I opened the cupboards, searching for my hidden stash of Gwen's baked buns of goodness as it seemed that was my only dinner option, but the cupboard was abruptly slammed on my fingers as Mother stood there, holding her ponytail over her shoulder.
“Zip it up!”
she demanded, and I tugged on the dated zip, not a word escaping my lips on how this dress had no chance of fitting anymore.
I was able to pull it enough until it met the bottom of her shoulder blades, and that was enough time spent with her son today as she huffed.
“I didn't ask you to move the fucking moon.”
She stormed out of the kitchen as I shoved my paper bags filled with sweet treats into my pockets and retreated to my room for the evening.
After hearing the front door slam hard enough to quake the walls, and the lack of goodbyes with her departure, I exhale every anxiety that had built up from her looming presence. Even if she has no clue, and even with the feeling that I could visit cloud nine when I'm around him, I struggle to shake the guilt and dread that gnaws in my chest at the fear of her ever finding out about Avory. That's the power that people can have over you –some own the keys to set you free from whatever prison you have been banished to, yet your captor has guilt shackled around your ankles and wrists, still.
Those shackles have been tightening against my skin for years, and this was the first time that they could possibly graze the bone. The grip they have wrapped around me since Avory first stepped foot in the café is unbearable, but somehow, I don't really care. I may have these steel cuffs burying themselves into me now, but he comes along and kisses every part better, making it seem okay. He may as well brush his lips against every bruise I've ever felt in any form, because I think he'd help me forgive, forget, and move on. Move on with him, maybe?
A vibration brings my mind back to my bedroom, specifically my bed and thick duvet which I snuggled myself down in with my towering pile of The Sweet Bakery paper bags. Gwen and I can never comprehend how I manage to keep such a delicate, dainty frame with how I shovel her cinnamon buns in my mouth like it's the last meal I asked for on death row. I probably would ask for her cinnamon buns, if I'm completely honest with myself. Actually, if I somehow ended up in prison, Gwen would be there with me for sure.
I finish my mouthful as my partner in crime’s name beams on my phone.
Gwen: I WISH YOU WERE HERE, HUN! I’m sure you know who's performing tonight ;)
My mind has already been playing performances from Bright Lights on repeat, specifically focusing on their gorgeous guitarist, since he had already told me the night before. Avory was vacant from the café today with all the rehearsing they had to do, but he is definitely present in my mind. A tender ache starts to fill my chest, lingering around my lungs and heart. I miss Avory.
A blurry picture box pops up as the grey ring spins around, accurately representing how my mind feels about everything going on recently. More photos are sent as they load in one by one: the first image is of stage lights beaming towards the camera as the Bright Lights flag sways proudly at the back. The handsome and rugged Marcus stands front and centre, his fist in the air and the other wrapped tight around the microphone, a pose which strongly resembles the most powerful and talented Freddie Mercury. His hair is slicked back, his tidy stubble lining his chiselled jaw and a thin ring of black outlines his eyes.
I find myself intrigued by Marcus. It seems, from the endless stories that Avory has told me, that he represents the exact thing I have never experienced in my years growing up. It really starts to piece together how we are so different in so many ways. But then why does everything feel like it fits?
Another photo delivers itself, and I am convinced that my breathing stops for a moment. My eyes are glued to the screen, because I am never not aware of a version of Avory Bright which exists in leather trousers. The matte fabric clutches to every part of him, defining parts of him which he has no reason to ever feel embarrassed about, if someone like Avory even feels embarrassment. A cropped shirt hangs from his shoulders, displaying not only the band's name, but these faint yet carved muscles with two deep curves leading into those goddamn trousers. He faces the stage floor, his hair covering all of his features as he eyes up his mint guitar. His fingers pinch the strings while the other holds his pick, and playing guitar just seems effortless to him.
Memories of the first time he showed me that exact guitar in his studio, my valiant attempt at my first chord, which I'm sure he silently found highly entertaining, flood my mind. It seems like that is a consistent theme with us. Whatever Avory can do naturally and instinctively; I must take ten times as long to do.
I’m not aware of how long I have been staring at this photo, but long enough for a situation to form in my thin, cotton shorts. I shoot a text back to Gwen.
Sawyer: Here lies the body of one Sawyer Sombre. He has officially killed me.
Gwen: At least you can admit it now ;)
I roll my eyes at Gwen's comment as I shut off my phone, not realising how much light the screen provided as my room falls dark. Only the burnt glow of streetlamps reflects into my room, bouncing off the four walls. I couldn't be happier that Gwen is rooting for my every move with this completely out of my league man, but I still hear this inner voice shrieking that something is going to change this. Something will come along and end this all because this—he, just seems too good to be true for someone like me.
The more I think about him and about whatever we are, the more I test the limits of these shorts, yet I don't want to deal with it. If I deal with my problem, with Avory plaguing my mind, that is fully admitting that I have fallen for him, that I crave him, that I am turned on by him. These are emotions which I haven't tapped into on my own for too long of a time now, and if I don't submit to these emotions, then eventually losing him won't hurt as much. I roll onto my side, shuffling until the tension between my legs eases. My eyes roll as my eyelids drift over.
Repeated vibrations shock me awake. I wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, was I drooling in my sleep? I shudder off the thought, hoping I can forget ever knowing I do that, as my screen lights up. My eyes take a second to adjust from a tense squint to a wide stretch of my eyelids. Sliding my glasses back on, I unlock my phone to see multiple message notifications.
Gwen: OH MY GOD! Not only have you bagged yourself an incredible and attractive guy but damn he can play and sing!! If you don’t, I will!
Avory: Hey! We just finished our set and oh my god, Tetherton is amazing!
Avory: Well clearly, it has you <3
Avory: Is it weird to say I miss you?
My mind, which has just awoken from the brief moment of silence in the form of sleep from the hammering thoughts of Avory, is now bouncing once again with questions and puzzling thoughts. Does Gwen think we are dating? Because we aren't dating. I don't even understand what we are, but that is a conversation that I have no experience in having.
Avory misses me? No, that's not weird at all, because I miss you, too. I have done all evening, all day, ever since you had to leave, and I stood in the staff room with the giddiest smile possible. Avory is probably still at the concert, with Marcus, enjoying the farewell to the warming air and blissful sun which blesses our town each day. I stare at my closet, and know that within the next half an hour, I could piece together an adorning outfit and throw my legs in front of each other, one after another, and be on that beach. I could take his hands in mine, have my lips pressing to his once again, finally introduce him properly to Gwen and Xander and everyone as my—well, we should actually find a quiet area on the beach first and discuss it all.
When did I throw the duvet off and have my bare feet on the cold, hardwood floors? I'm not sure about what I am apparently planning to do, but suddenly, the idea of that conversation doesn't seem that bad. My revelation is interjected with mutterings and cackles which reside on the other side of the front door. She’s home, and obviously not alone.
The front door creaks open and slams shut soon after. Silence. I peek out of my bedroom window to see a bulky silhouette dragging his feet away from the house, his unbuttoned shirt rolling in the evening wind. She turned someone away. The silence has never sounded so loud throughout the house. No fake enjoyment, no teenage giggling while running up the stairs into her bedroom, no glass bottles. Nothing. My heartbeat quickens, my breathing turns shallow and rapid.
In, hold, out. In—fuck this, what is going on?
My mind rapidly flicks through a mental folder of every single thing I have ever done wrong or could’ve done wrong in her eyes. I stare at my feet as I try to centre myself, but my bedroom door swings open and bashes into the wall, strong enough to leave a dent in the shape of the handle. The streetlamps illuminate my mother, who currently stands in the middle of my room, her arms crossing over her chest and her eyes burning into my skin. Her stare wide, her lips pinching tightly together, her face trembling but I can't tell why. I can't handle not being able to read her expression clearly, that's how I judge how to deal with these interactions I often cause.
I shakily stand myself up, my legs feeling as if they could snap at any moment. I slowly step around her to find my light switch, knowing it’s close to my bedroom door. I don't reach the light switch, instead my mother's hand rips its way into my knotted curls and jerks me back to her side. I yelp in pain, my scalp stinging as if a million needles have sown their way into each and every follicle. My hands meet hers as I attempt to untangle her bones and rings the best I can before she forces me back to my bed, the frame creaking with the forceful impact.
She smacks her hand all over the wall until she finds the switch, her eyes never leaving my frail frame. A pale-yellow brightness spotlights the room as the overhead lights warm up, yet I wish they wouldn't. I so desperately want to sink back into the darkness because this is an expression I have never witnessed before. Tears begin to well up and wet my delicate glasses’ frame, the silence which hums around the room even making my falling tears sound like rushing rivers. My chest tightens and strangles any vocals I could create. I can't speak, breathe, or move. She steps closer, and I fear what would happen, I fear her every movement now. My scalp aches and serves as a constant reminder of what she’s capable of.
“I'll start you off, shall I? Avory Bright. Explain the rest before I do. I am giving you a chance to explain.”
Her voice is laced with poisonous strands, which takes a venomous punch at me with every word.
Shit. Avory.
She found out about him. How? I think about his last message, saying how he misses me, and here I am being punished for ever thinking he could be something, someone, important to me. For all I know, that could be my last message from him, depending on how this conversation goes.
My mind sprints back to her exact tone which I have heard before, except Mother was on the receiving end. Father used this toxicity with her all those years ago. My throat is bone dry, and the words I form are scratchy and sore, but I tell her everything.
“He came into the café one day.”
There is no point in lying because one way or another, she has discovered my secret.
“Overtime, we have gotten closer.”
I have spent years longing to have this conversation, and it seems that this opportunity is shoving itself into my face.
“We’ve spent time after work together.”
I just want her to understand what took me years to understand about myself. I still don't fully understand it, but I know that Avory brings out this side of me which I never want to lock away for the benefits of others ever again. I’m not ready to hide away again.
“We talk all of the time.”
My throat stings, scratches with how long I have been speaking, but she needs to hear this.
“And I don’t know what we are, but—”
I rise to my feet and whisper the last words to my mother's face before my voice fades into the silence.
She sucks on her teeth as the words hang in the night air. The first time my feelings for Avory topple out of my mouth, and it's to my mother. She can't bring herself to look at me, her gaze darting around the room until her eyes squeeze themselves shut, and her hand strikes my cheek with such force. I grip my cheek, and a sudden heat rises to the surface, I can feel the crimson print that would eventually develop on my skin, yet the stinging sensation means nothing to me compared to the reasoning behind her strike. Every word leaves her lipstick plastered mouth in the most vicious manner.
“So, he rocked up to my town, with his shitty band, and you thought it would be acceptable to do the one thing that ruined this family already? You have already ruined one life, Sawyer, why must you ruin his as well as mine?”
The tears create waterfalls which cascade down my cheeks and drip from my chin. My throat feels like it’s being ripped in every possible direction, a metallic taste filling the back of my mouth and lingering on my tongue. A volume I never realised I could reach, alongside a sense of desperation which I have never voiced before appears.
“Why can't I just be myself? It causes you no harm! I'm never a priority, I'm not even a thought to you, so why does it matter who I kiss?”
I sob as I stumble, my head feeling light and causing my vision to blur.
Her boozy breath fills my nostrils. She takes everything I scream at her in silence. She inhales a deep, cold breath. Every one of her words aims directly for me and is ready to be fired.
“Because who you kiss, or fuck, or whatever, is the reason your father left. Your decisions ruined my life, Sawyer. That café is all I have left of the man you sent packing.”
Her fake nails jab at my chest as she spits, a stinging sensation rapidly spreading across my skin.
“Clearly, your father leaving did not get across the message. As long as you think it is acceptable to be this way, you are no son of mine, Sawyer.”
I’m weak, too weak. I collapse onto my bed and everything within me numbs. First my father, and now my mother. She never wanted to have the conversation, she never wanted to attempt to fix this one day, and now I have lost both of my parents because of my reckless decisions. Her words ricochet around my empty head.
“Seeing as I have no son, you can at least keep alive the one part of the man I once loved, who you sent away. You will work at the café, on my terms. You are to leave here at seven every morning and return by six in the evening. I know every aspect of that café, so don't you dare think that you can slip some time in with this fucking guitarist on the way home or anything. You clearly can't be trusted, and you are never to see him again, do I make myself clear?”
She towers over me as I continue to try and understand what she’s saying. I can't process any of this. My life has, somehow, changed for the worst because the best thing to happen in a long time, actually happened. I’m dragged to my feet as her hands grasp the neck of my shirt. Her eyes bulge with frustration, and her knuckles turn white with the sheer strength in her grip.
“I said, do I make myself clear?”
Spit dabs across my lens as she speaks through her gritted teeth.
“Yes, ma'am.”
She forces me back onto my bed as she exits my room, leaving my door wide open as hers slams, reverberating across the Sombre house. The one person I want to speak to, I can't. According to her new rules.