Chapter 10 #3
While Ethan waited outside, Emily and I slipped through the back door just before dawn.
My grandparents were waiting in the kitchen, their faces drawn and tight-lipped.
My grandmother sat with her hair up in pin curls, her eyes sharp; my grandfather sat at the table with his hands folded, knuckles white.
They didn’t shout; they measured their disappointment in silence.
Emily squeezed my hand once before retreating, her parting glance heavy with apology. And I was left to shiver under the fluorescent glare of the kitchen, the memory of Kyle’s touch and the taste of smoke still clinging to my tongue.
Everything that came after was a nightmare of the worst kind. My grandparents punished me for not living up to their standards; they were planning to marry me off to save face. The urgency with which I fled my childhood home to escape from an even worse future came back in sharp, undeniable focus.
The weight of the past had hung around my neck like a chain, and I remembered how each mile I put between my childhood home and the uncertainty ahead had loosened its grip just a little.
My thoughts twisted and collided, a blur of fear and the reckless hope that I could outrun everything that haunted me.
Emily’s voice pulled me back to the present, her words cutting through the tangle of my past. Her voice softened with an empathy that bridged the miles between us. “Josie, you’re different now. Stronger. You’re not a scared teenager anymore.”
Her words sat heavy in the air. Could she be right? Could I be brave enough to lean into this impossibly complicated situation without being pummeled by the past?
My silence stretched out. It took all I had to finally speak, my voice a raw whisper. “I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Maybe it’s not about being ready,” Emily said softly. “Maybe it’s about letting yourself live the life you deserve.”
A heavy silence settled between us. My thoughts swirled in a chaotic dance, visions of Aiden’s steady gaze and the laughter that slipped so easily from his lips twisting inside my mind. I wanted it, this reckless thing with him, more than I dared admit.
“Josie?” Emily’s voice was softer now.
“I don’t know,” I murmured at last, unsure if I spoke to her or to myself. “He’s different.”
“And different is good.”
“Or dangerous,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You can’t hide forever,” she insisted tenderly.
It was less an accusation and more a plea. A part of me resisted, a stubborn flicker of defiance against what seemed like fate. But another part, timid and hopeful, wondered what if chasing down this wild feeling didn’t end in disaster? What if, this time, I didn’t have to run?
“And if you need backup, you know I’ll be there.” The certainty in her voice was a balm against the heat of my turmoil. “And Ethan is ready to punch whoever dares to hurt you again… or Mateo, for that matter.” Her statement made me smile.
“Thanks,” I said finally, quiet and grateful. “Yeah, he already threatened to hunt down anyone who looks at me funny. He’s still on guard duty, I guess.”
“Please, he loves being on guard duty,” Emily said. “Makes him feel useful. You should’ve seen him pacing the living room like a guard dog in pajama pants.” Emily’s voice was lighter now, teasing. “Just tell me one thing, is he hot?”
A startled laugh burst from my lips. It was the first real one in weeks, cutting through the tension like a blade through paper. “Scorching.”
“Then at least consider risking it, and please call me sooner than six weeks!” I promised I would, and we ended the call with more assurance than I felt.
I sat in the dark a while longer, phone still in my hand. The silence that followed wasn’t empty; it just reminded me how much space love leaves when it’s far away.
I slumped back, drawing a deep breath as I stared out into the city lights glittering outside the window.
Aiden’s face flashed through my mind again, his piercing eyes and that grin full of secrets.
Emily’s words lingered too, weaving themselves into my tangled thoughts until they built a fragile thread of hope.
7
Shattered Calm
Eggs sizzled in the skillet while my eyes flicked to the clock. Crumbs and cereal littered the linoleum floor, remnants of Mateo’s breakfast antics. I dropped a piece of bread into the toaster; its mechanical click swallowed the cartoons’ sound blaring from the living room.
“Mom, seriously,” Mateo called, turning the TV up two notches. “The toaster is committing a crime.”
A familiar dread twisted my stomach, thoughts spiraling to Aiden. I forced my focus back on the eggs, my mind churning as much as the hot pan before me.
Mateo leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, already dressed in his Batman shirt like it had been a strategic choice. “We’re still going to the park later, right?”
I gave one last jab at the eggs and scooped them onto plates. “Sure are, bud. We are even having a picnic.”
It was the first Saturday after school let out for summer vacation, and I decided to take Mateo on a real picnic, something more deliberate than our usual sandwiches on the fire escape or slices of deli pizza on errand runs.
I wanted to give him something special; the least I could do was open a window to summer and let Mateo see the sky.
I slid the food onto the table, willing myself to concentrate on our plans and not on Aiden. What did he want? My brain refused to let go of this thought, circling back to his enigmatic grin.
“Can we get ice cream too?” Mateo’s face was a perfect picture of innocence and hope.
I ruffled his hair as he sat down. “Of course. Can’t go to the park without ice cream.”
I watched him dig into his breakfast with the kind of gusto only a pre-teen boy could muster. We ate together, and I tried to stay present, but my mind pulled me back to Aiden.
Mateo paused mid-bite. “You’re doing the stare-into-space thing again.”
I blinked, refocusing on the plate in front of me. “Yeah, sorry, just thinking about work stuff.”
He nodded like he accepted it. He didn’t, but he let it go.
I didn’t want to lie to him, but how could I explain what was twisting inside me when I didn’t understand it myself? My life had been messy but predictable before Aiden waltzed in. Now everything felt charged, like the air before a storm.
After breakfast, I looked around our tiny, cluttered apartment.
The second-hand furniture was a testament to our struggle and resilience.
Mateo’s school projects were scattered around.
Despite everything, this was our home. Yet it felt precarious, as if it might slip through my fingers if I wasn’t careful.
Mateo’s drawings, collected over the years, turned the fridge into a kaleidoscope of imagination.
One in particular caught my eye: us at the park, our figures bold against a backdrop of lush trees.
A gigantic dog loomed in the background, its eyes a vivid red.
My chest tightened at the sight. I remembered his wish for a pet and all the things I yearned to give him.
I swallowed hard, trying to dispel the doubts crowding my mind. Was I ready to take another risk? To invite the uncertainty that Aiden brought into our world? I thought of the life I wanted for Mateo. The fear of failing him was always lurking in the background.
I cleared away our plates as Mateo’s cartoons echoed from the living room. The small kitchen felt even tighter as I washed up in our tiny sink. I tried to let the familiar routine calm me down, but Aiden’s voice lingered in my thoughts.
I gripped a coffee mug tightly, trying to shake off those thoughts. My life was here among cartoon laughter and breakfast dishes. In frustration, I slammed the mug onto the counter. It shattered instantly, the sound echoing in the apartment.
I stared at the shards on the floor, a mirror of my resolve. The crash had broken my train of thought, but it also left a sharp pain in my palm. I looked down to see a piece of ceramic lodged in my skin, my blood stark against the white.
The abrupt noise brought Mateo running. He skidded to a stop in the kitchen, his bright green-blue eyes clouded with raw and unguarded concern. “Mom, are you okay?”
His voice was like a lifeline, pulling me back from the tumult inside my head. “Yeah, bud. Everything’s alright.”
“Mom, you’re bleeding.” Mateo pointed at my hand.
His expression shifted from worry to fear, and it broke my heart to see him so upset. More than anything, I wanted to protect him from my own uncertainties. I wanted to wrap him up in that perfect bubble of childhood forever.
“Oh, it’s nothing, sweetheart,” I said quickly. “I’m just a bit clumsy today.” I used a towel to press against the cut.
The pain in my hand was a tangible counterpoint to Aiden’s ghostly presence in my thoughts. Everything felt so fragile, and I had to be the strong one.
“That’s not nothing,” Mateo said, already reaching for paper towels. “You need to rinse it. Like, now.”
I blinked too fast, forcing the threat of tears back into resolve. I couldn’t let Mateo see me unravel. Not after everything we’d been through. He hovered in the doorway, pretending he wasn’t watching.
Using my unhurt hand to cup his cheek. “I’m ok, really. Now get your shoes on, okay? I’ll clean this up.”
Mateo’s frown deepened, and he pushed past me, reaching for the broom behind the fridge.
“Let me help,” he insisted, his voice unwavering. I admired his resolve, his ability to take everything in stride, even my own chaos.
Mateo worked quickly, jaw set, like competence was armor.
“Thank you,” I said softly, watching as he carefully navigated the broken pieces with more skill than I could muster.
Together, we cleaned up the mess; his focused energy compelled me to concentrate on what truly mattered: our life here. The cut on my hand throbbed in time with my pulse, its sting demanding my attention.