His Own Way Out

by Taylor Saracen

  “I really miffed it,” Blake confessed as he sat at the kitchen table with Sandra and Ryan.

  “Miffed what?” Ryan garbled, his mouth full of chicken.

  Blake glanced at Sandra, who was regarding him suspiciously. Waiting. He cleared his throat, sniffed, and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, just about every one of his nervous ticks in a seemingly choreographed combination. “I got expelled.”

  “Come again?” Sandra said as Ryan dropped his fork to his plate with a clank.

  “I got expelled. I heard that seniors could sign themselves out, so I did. One too many times I guess,” Blake explained, his eyes fixed on Sandra’s. “I asked for another chance, but she made up her mind.”

  “Well, this is a problem,” Sandra sighed, removing the napkin from her lap and placing it on the table. She stood up and walked to the sink where she washed her hands, a tell of her mounting stress. “Hmm.”

  “Really?” Ryan whispered.

  Blake nodded, placing the heel of his hand on his chin as his fingers tapped his nose.

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, I’m not happy about it,” Blake promised with a sardonic laugh. “At all.”

  “So, what are we going to do about this?” Sandra asked, drying her hands with a dish towel before returning to the table. “Part of the deal was that you’d be in school.”

  “I know,” Blake replied, his stomach dropping to his ass.

  Sandra was going to kick him out. After finally settling in somewhere that made him happy, he would be back on the street. The thought alone was enough to have his stomach gurgling and bile rising in his throat. He didn’t want to go to the shelter, and there was no way he could show his face in Unionville. Blake had told his mother he was doing well, that he was on track to graduate. She sounded proud. He didn’t want to take that away from her, from himself.

  “You’ll have to get a job,” Sandra decided.

  Both Blake and Ryan exhaled their relief. It hadn’t been what Blake was expecting, and evidently it was a surprise to Ryan, too.

  “Thank you,” Blake said, jumping up from his chair to give Sandra a hug. “I’ll find something right away. I’ll contribute to the house, food, everything.”

  “I know you will, Sunshine,” Sandra soothed, rubbing his back as she hugged him back. “You get yourself into some muck, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Blake confirmed. “I have to break the cycle somehow.”

  “The best way to do that is to learn the rules and follow them.”

  “No matter how much they suck,” Ryan added, beginning to eat his meal again. “You should’ve told me you were signing yourself out. I would’ve told you not to.”

  “I didn’t think anything of it other than how awesome it was,” Blake shrugged, as he sat down. “You always have practice or something else going on, so I figured you never took advantage of the opportunity.”

  “You’re right about that, but I do know how it works. Maybe somewhere deep down you knew it was shady business,” Ryan offered.

  “You make it sound so intense. It wasn’t like that, but damn was I excited about it.”

  “What did you do it anyway? When you left school? What did you do with your time?” Sandra asked, grimacing as if she didn’t want to know the answer.

  “I thought a lot about things,” Blake replied. It wasn’t a lie.

  “Like how you should have been in class?” Ryan joked, earning him an unimpressed scowl from Blake. “Too soon?”

  “Probably,” Blake nodded, peaking at Sandra, who was still regarding him with narrowed eyes.

  “I’m amending a portion of our agreement, but that certainly doesn’t mean I’m willing to be lenient on any of the other terms,” she stated. “Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “You can the bend rules, Sunshine, but there’s rarely enough to prevent people from breaking if you push them too far. Don’t push me too far. I’m not flexible.”

  Blake nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She shuddered at the formality. “And don’t ‘ma’am’ me.”

  “I won’t ‘ma’am’ you,” he laughed, taking a bite of his now cold dinner.

  “You can ‘sir’ me,” Ryan smirked. “I feel like I deserve that level of respect. I don’t think enough people call me sir.”

  “I don’t think anybody calls you sir and the trend isn’t going to start with me,” Blake assured his friend with a grin. “I’m beginning to think I have a problem with authority.” He turned quickly to Sandra. “Not you, of course. You’re a queen, Sandy.”

  “Now, queen,” she paused, a large smile spreading across her lips, “queen I can work with. I like that.”

  “I like you,” Blake said simply, exceedingly grateful that the Dempsey’s were in his life.

  “I like you, too, even though you’re one heck of a handful.”

  “I’ve been called worse, but never by a better person,” he replied, garnering a click of the tongue from Sandra.

  “You’re a charming one, Blake Mitchell.”

  “Too charming,” Ryan opined, as he chewed on a hunk of bread. “It’s the dimples.”

  “You know, I’ve been told that before,” Blake mused, recalling how Greg used to poke his finger into the indentations in his cheeks. “Maybe it’s a thing.”

  “Thanks for the dimples, Mom,” Ryan said to Sandra, sarcastically.

  “I could give you some,” Sandra teased, holding her fork up. “Ready?”

  “I’m good,” Ryan chuckled. “Now that I think about it, I was made perfectly.”

  Blake agreed, knowing he had some work to do.

  Part III

  Adulthood

  21

  In theory, Sandra’s insistence that Blake get a job and contribute to the household made a lot of sense, but it practice, it wasn’t so easy. Aside from farms, there was little to no commerce in Jasmine County, and without a car, Blake couldn’t look for work too far from the Dempseys’ place. It would have been great if there was a job he could do from home, but without a computer or a high school diploma that setup was unlikely. Instead of wasting Sandra’s time—and his own—he worked out a plan to move in with Bianca in her new apartment in Lexington. He’d get a job in the city, where there were more opportunities, and start his life as an employed adult.

  “I hate that you have to go,” Sandra sighed as she parked in the lot outside of Bianca’s building.

  “He could stay,” Ryan reminded his mother, garnering a click of the tongue and an unimpressed shake of the head from Sandra.

  “You know I can’t,” Blake said, leaning forward from the backseat to pat his friend’s shoulder. “It doesn’t make any sense to stay. There’s nothing for me in Jasmine.”

  “You sound like a drifter,” Ryan laughed. “Am I never going to see you again? Is this it for us, are we sporadic for the next nine years like before?”

  “No way. I’ll be better about keeping in touch,” Blake promised, hoping that he actually had the capacity to do so. He didn’t forget about people when he fell off, but with his history of movement it was hard to stand still for long enough to nurture relationships.

  “With both of us,” Sandra added. “I want to hear wonderful updates from you. That you got your GED, a job, most importantly that you're happy, healthy...”

  “I hope I have good things to share.”

  “You make things good. That’s the only way to have good things. You make them good. You can’t wait for it all to be figured out for you,” Sandra told him passionately. “I want you to really hear what I’m telling you, Blake. I want it to go in.”

  “I hear you,” Blake promised.

  “And it’s going in?”

  Blake tapped the side of his head. “It’s right here.”

  “Well, let’s get out and do some hugging before you leave us,” Sandra said, unlocking the car doors and climbing out.

  Wrapping his arms around Ryan’s shoulders, Blake held him close
, a sadness he wished he could ignore pressing on his chest. He’d said goodbye to too many people over the last several months. He didn’t want his life to be turbulent or variable anymore. He wanted something solid and consistent, to know that everything wasn’t going to be ripped away from him because of a broken rule.

  “It’s been real,” Blake grinned, tussling his friend’s sandy blond hair. “Take care of yourself, or better yet, let your mom take care of you, she’s good at that shit.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Ryan nodded, smiling at his mom. “Keep in touch, Blake. I’m not messing around.”

  “I will. I swear,” Blake assured.

  As he walked to Sandra, he dreaded the send-off. She squeezed him tight in a way that promised support and care. He wanted to be worthy of the affection. Maybe one day he would be. While Jasmine and Sandra didn’t turn out to be the sturdy surrounding he craved, it was a good baseline for what he would strive toward in the future.

  “It’s been a pleasure. Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

  “I won’t be. Thank you for everything, Sandy. You didn’t have to take me in and you did. It means a lot.”

  “Oh hush,” she huffed, pressing her knuckle against her now teary eyes. “I’m not made for this type of stuff. I’m too soft. You have to go before I flood the place and you’ll need to travel by boat.”

  Blake nodded, grabbing his bag out of the trunk. He gave them one last wave and then headed into Bianca’s building. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, he knocked on the door of apartment 342 and chuckled when his friend yelled, “It’s your place, too, Little B. I’m on the couch. Let yourself in.”

  Doing as he was told, Blake was pleased to see Bianca lounging on the sofa with two joints and a pizza on the coffee table. “This housewarming party is lit,” he grinned, dropping his bag on the worn carpet and sitting down next to Bianca.

  “Don’t get used to it. Your ass is buying next time,” she stated. “I told you. No freeloading.”

  “No freeloading,” Blake confirmed. “I’ll start looking for a job tomorrow.”

  “I think I found something for you.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Pizza?” she offered, opening the box to present the pepperoni pie to him.

  Taking a slice, Blake muttered his “thanks” as the bubbling, hot cheese burned the roof of his mouth.

  “Like it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s pizza and it’s free. I have no complaints.”

  “It’s from White Knight Pizza on Richmond. They’re hiring. I told them you’d be in tomorrow afternoon to fill out an application.”

  “You work fast, Garza,” Blake remarked with an impressed nod. “Is it a nice place.

  “Hell no. It’s a shithole. I actually think it may be a mob front, but whatever, you know, it’s money. Rumor on the street is they pay under the table and don’t give a damn what their employees do as long as they don’t touch the till.”

  “I wouldn’t touch the till,” he said, reaching for another slice. “Thanks for letting me know. Do you think I’ll get a pizza discount?”

  “I think we’ll get really sick of pizza.”

  “Can that happen? Can people get sick of pizza?”

  “I bet they can get sick of bad pizza. This is pretty bad,” Bianca laughed. “I usually eat it when I’m already high. It’s way worse when I don’t have the munchies.”

  He raised his eyebrows and held up the joints. “A welcome gift?”

  Bianca smirked. “You know me. The hostess with the mostest.”

  “Let’s make the pizza taste better then,” Blake grinned, placing a joint between his roommate’s lips before lighting up his own. “Fuck,” he sighed, tilting his head back as he coughed on the smoke. “This is pretty cool, right? You and me. Living in the city. Nobody to answer to, actual freedom.”

  “We’re not free,” she corrected. “Not even close.”

  “It feels like freedom to me.”

  “Freedom is not worrying about the utility bill or if you can go for a case of Bud instead of Natty. We’re too poor to be free.”

  “We’re not poor,” Blake disagreed. “I’ve been around poor and it’s not us.”

  Bianca chuckled. “That’s your problem, Mitchell. You need to think of yourself as desperate. It’s the only way you’ll ever be hungry enough to tear people’s throats out if they get in the way of your rise.”

  “You’re intense as hell,” Blake laughed, his eyes wide. “I’m applying for a job at a fucking pizza shop. Whose neck do I need to break to be a goddam pizza boy?”

  “It’s not pizza, B. It’s survival. You’ll see. You owe me half the rent next month. Handing over that money...you’ll get it then.”

  “I’ll have it,” he affirmed, taking another hit. “You should give me the tour.”

  “There isn’t much to show. This is the living room. That’s the kitchen.” She pointed to the galley kitchen in the back corner of the room. “My bedroom is on that side, and yours is there. The shitter is next to mine, but not attached because places like that are two-hundred dollars more a month. I got the second bedroom instead because I knew I’d find someone to live with.”

  “It’s amazing. I haven’t had any privacy in months. The fact that my room has a door,” he sighed, “this is heaven to me.” He looked longingly toward his room.

  “You’ll have to buy a bed if you want one, but I put an air mattress in there for now. How about you go check it out?” Bianca smirked, nudging Blake’s knee with hers. “I won’t be insulted. Do you, man. Relish it.”

  Blake didn’t have to be told twice. Within seconds, he was in the small bedroom, door closed, lying on the bare AeroBed, smoking, emancipated. He needed to get sheets, but a comforter could wait. Summer was coming. He felt his lips turn up. He was going to be in the city for summer, meeting new people, living a different life than the one he lived before. Not only towns but worlds away from Unionville. Every mile was a margin, creating space.

  Blake basked in the solitude. He’d miss Sandra and Ryan, but the promise Lexington held was intoxicating. An uncharacteristic giddiness began to flutter through his body. Maybe this was where he was supposed to end up after all the bullshit. Maybe his future was already written, and he wasn’t privy to the script. He needed to embrace the change, hold onto moments of magic like the one he was existing in, alone in his first bedroom as an adult. He’d felt tethered by his mistakes, but he was ready to cut the cords of compunction and make something amazing of his life. It wasn’t enough to be anymore, he wanted to be something more, someone more than the person he’d been. And now he had the chance. He wasn’t going to fuck it up. He’d done enough of that. There was more to life than his reckless past. Perhaps a future full of fortitude he hadn’t been able to gather.

  Somehow the air in his new apartment felt different than the stale spaces he’d been breathing in for years prior. He wouldn’t be defined by a small town or faults. He could be somebody else, or himself, but better, understood. It was only when everything was torn from you that you could look forward to grasping the things that mattered. He would stretch for something more. He had to.

  22

  White Knight Pizza was much more of a dumpster fire than Bianca had described. Upon entry, Blake regretted ever eating anything that had been produced in their kitchen. That didn’t mean he didn’t take the job when it was offered to him. He showed up dutifully day after day, and didn’t ask questions, which was evidently the mark of a good employee to Tony and crew. Blake put pizza in boxes, took orders and ignored all other goings-on in the shop. While he wasn’t sure—and couldn’t deny—there was some criminal activity happening, Blake was getting paid under the table, which was shady in its own right. Still, he had no complaints. He was off the grid, a presumed high school student not earning an income and avoiding the responsibility of taxes. Someday soon he’d pay the government their due, but first he was concerned with getting his own, and giving it to Bianca for the apa
rtment. His roommate had laid down the law and he wasn’t about to fuck things up. The apartment was small and in moderate disrepair, but it had become his safe haven. He’d never loved anything unremarkable so intensely. It wasn’t the bones of the apartment that attracted him, but the guts, what the place represented.

  Like she did at her security job in Unionville, Bianca worked third shift at her new post in Lexington. Though Blake often worked nights as well, he loved the rare evening when he was off and had the apartment to himself. He walked around naked, blasted music, and relished in the privacy. There was no one to answer to, nobody judging his decisions, no sneaking in or out. He was where he was supposed to be. Finally, he believed that the erratic nonsense that plagued him was settling down, that there was a chance the shards of everything he’d broken could be pieced back together. A different picture with the same premise.

  The first time Blake brought a guy back to his place was electric. He didn’t have to worry about his mother getting home early from work or his brother’s big mouth. He could focus on the hard body beneath him, the hands rubbing his back, the feet hooking his shins as he sunk deeper inside him. Thanks to the Rise and Grind, he was fulfilled physically, but the assembly line of men weren’t fortifying him emotionally. The more sex he had, the more he wished he was having it with someone who stuck around in the morning, who wanted to talk about life and the future, who wanted someone to rely on, to be that person for someone else.

  “Good morning, Princess,” a man’s voice whispered, waking Blake from a death-like slumber. He half expected to turn over and see a random guy on the air mattress next to him. Rolling to his side, Blake grinned when he realized the bedmate was anything but random.

  “I thought you weren’t coming till noon.”

  “I couldn’t hold out,” Greg replied, pinching Blake’s cheek. “Do you think I’m gonna pop this float you’re sleeping on?”

  “It’s not a float,” Blake chuckled. “It’s an AeroBed and it’s survived the poundings I’ve put it through, so I think you’re fine.”