“Oh.” He cranes his head to face me. “You know her?”
My eyes take a second pass of the man, before I respond. “I’ve never seen her in my life.”
“Yeah, I don’t know who that girl is either.” He turns back to face the bar, staring through emptiness.
There’s a ring on his finger, leading me to believe he’s married. His drink sits in front of him, collecting a puddle of condensation. He’s barely touched it, and based on the thin chip of ice that floats at the top, it’s been sitting there awhile.
“I’m Faith,” I blurt out, not knowing what I’m hoping to gain with that information.
“That’s a beautiful name,” he says and finally takes a swig from the rum glass in front of him.
“My name is probably the only thing my mother ever gave me.” My teeth bite into my lip. “You’re married?”
“Used to be. If you’re wondering why I’m still wearing my ring, I’ll tell that it’s none of your damn business.”
And that’s the end of that conversation. Realizing I had probably overstepped, I reach for my drink and prepare to find another seat. Maybe I’ll go sit with one of the bikers in the back.
“Then,” he continues, “I’d tell you that wearing this ring reminds me of a time when everything wasn’t so fucked up. A time before I made the worst decision of my life.”
“I know a thing or two about bad decisions.” I reclaim my spot on the barstool. “I’m so good at making them that I could earn a living giving speeches to high school students, saying, this is how you ruin your life.”
He spins on his seat and turns to face me, opening up a dialogue while tearing down walls in the space between us. “You’re young. You can still turn it all around.”
“It’s a wonderful concept, but I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“It’s a sanctimonious thing to say, but I don’t think you’re going to make much progress toward a better life sitting in a dive bar.”
“I’m just biding my time, trying to figure out my next move.”
He moves closer to me, his leg brushing mine, and his hand dancing along the wooden bar. “You want to go home with me?”
* * *
Our naked bodies are flush against each other. Pale neon lights from the ‘Vacancy’ sign bleeds into our window through ancient curtains. When he asked me to go home with him, he excluded the part where home was a hotel—a temporary home for the nights when he needs to get away from his own fucked up world.
He thrusts into me, his eyes flickering between clenched and wide-open. This is not the way I had planned to spend my night, being fucked by a nameless man in a one-star motel.
Any other time, anywhere but here in Old Town, I’d wrap my legs around him and enjoy the ride. But I’m all too aware what this really is. Two strangers sharing a sweaty fuck for no other reason than to pass the time. For him, he’s able to forget the rest of the world while he fucks me into the mattress. I feel whatever’s left of me bleeding out into thin air—evaporating into a meaningless existence.
I thought walking in on my boyfriend screwing my best friend—who was also a stripper—was rock bottom.
I was wrong.
I sink further into the rocks as he thrusts into me one final time. His arms go stiff as he holds himself into place, his cock pulsating in me. He’s feeling absolute release and I feel nothing.
His breaths are heavy, but he manages to speak to me with just a nod. That’s his way of thanking me, and I understand his position completely—I saved him from another night of misery.
He pulls out and rolls onto his back, pulls the condom off, and tosses it to the floor beside us. His arm moves beneath me and he pulls me in close. There’s a soft kiss against the top of my head before I drift off to sleep.
* * *
The alarm flashes in red letters, 3:16. The stranger beside me has rolled onto his side, facing the window, so my escape will be easy. I’m skipping to the third step in my plan, the step where I run. The first two steps aren’t even in play here.
I swing my feet over the edge of the bed and land on the soft carpet. I grab my clothes off the floor and take notice of the wallet that sits on the nightstand. I swipe that too and make my way to the bathroom.
When I flip the switch on, the lights blind me. Everything’s fuzzy, but I manage to dress myself in a hurry. I set his wallet on the sink and contemplate what I might do. There’s no denying that I need money, but am I this far gone? Can I steal from a complete stranger? A stranger that opened himself up to me. It’s with deep regret, the kind that sinks to the bottom of my stomach, where I admit to myself that I can.
There are only a few twenties, but it’ll be enough to last me until I’m able to find Luke. I’ll call him after sunrise. When I go to fold the wallet back up, I notice something. The man’s license. He looks younger in the photo. Happier. It says he’s from Lakeview and that piques my interest. What is he doing here in Old Town?
I begin to dig through his wallet, not planning to steal anything else, but looking for clues to thwart my curious mind. What I find only makes things worse.
A photo of a happy family—with Charlie in the center. He’s all the way out here, while she’s just returned home. I’ll probably never see either Charlie or this man again, but I pray that they’re able to find a happy ending.
Unable to follow through with my act of theft, I place the money back in the wallet.
I need a happy ending and it doesn’t begin like this.
* * *
Getting a coffee at four in the morning was never this difficult in Florida. Welcome home, where you have to hit up the local hospital to grab a semi-fresh brew in the middle of the night. Most people have homes to go home to, so the lack of coffee probably isn’t something the residents of Old Town should be too concerned with come Election Day.
I stir my lukewarm coffee as I wander the desolate halls of the aging hospital. I’ve never been fond of the blandness that adorns the walls. Everything is white and sterile. In the early morning hours, the silence is deafening—the beeping of a machine is enough to steal every bit of my attention.
I turn left and head down the main hallway, terrified that I’m stuck in a nightmare that’s about to repeat. The beeping becomes louder, clearer, as I approach the Emergency Room. I clench my fist, the one that’s not holding the coffee, and prepare for the worst. A nurse pushes past me and my coffee hits the ground, staining the white floors.
I turn and flee, pushing through the front doors of the hospital and out into the bitter, cold night. I pull my arms tight around me, hugging my own body for both comfort from the cold and from the past.
I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again—I’ll never come back to this hospital. It was a mistake coming here to begin with—not even free coffee is worth it.
3
FIVE YEARS AGO
There’s nothing quite as romantic as a herd of cows throwing ‘moos’ at each other. Here, laying in the grass, the cow’s cries are a constant reminder of home. If we were to ever forget where we are, all we’d need to do is peek our heads above the tall blades of grass and spot the cows.
I lay in the middle. Noah and Luke rest their heads on either side of my shoulders. We’re parked underneath the starlight, our bodies compressing the grass beneath us like giants stomping the earth. Around us, uncut grass spikes towards the sky.
It’s quiet—other than the cows—but it always is out here on the outskirts of what Noah calls civilization. The sky is bright, ornamented by a thousand dying suns that flicker on wavelengths the human eye can’t see. That’s what Mr. Barclay of seventh period science fame claims. But I’ve always believed that every star in the sky is more than that, something more magical. Something like the ones we love leaving earth and journeying to something in the beyond.
“I could lay here forever,” Noah muses out loud. His voice is dreamy, echoing an indescribable fire that is always so prevalent in his eyes. “Just the three o
f us and the stars.”
I think about that and what it would mean. Eternity—it’s always seemed like something to avoid, in any scenario, if for no other reason than everything grows old. Even the good things. “Forever’s a long time. You’d grow tired of us.”
He raises himself onto his elbows. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Stupider than the time she asked if her prom dress would melt in the sun?” Luke adds his eyes still focused on a particular star. A smile creeps across his face before he cranes his head to face me. “That was pretty stupid.”
My cheeks flush in embarrassment. It’s been over a year since those words came out of my mouth, but I’m not keen on being reminded of my blonde moments. “Bite me, Luke.”
“You sure about that?” he questions but doesn’t wait for an answer before he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.
“Ouch,” I cry out through a laugh and push him away from me. Visible teeth marks stain my skin, but he didn’t go deep enough to make me bleed. He would never hurt me. Neither of them would.
“Can you believe we’re graduating in two weeks?” Noah asks. “Like, holy shit. We made it.”
“Don’t count your eggs before they’ve hatched,” I remind him. That’s what our foster parents say, but they’ve lived on this farm their entire lives, and I’m not sure they’ve ever seen what happens if one should count these figurative eggs before they’ve hatched.
“I’m not counting anything, but the days before we can leave this place behind.”
I bite into my lip, pulling my eyelids tight. He wasn’t supposed to say that.
Luke pushes himself onto his knees. “What are you talking about?”
I sit up to join him. “He’s just being stupid.”
“Faith…” Noah says.
“Okay, seriously. What’s going on?” Luke questions.
My fingers push through my hair, combing the nerves out of the way so that I’m free to speak. “Do you ever get the feeling that what you have isn’t enough? Like, you’re perfectly happy, but you still want to reach for the stars?”
“That sounds oddly philosophical.”
“That’s us—Noah and I. Your mom and dad saved us from a meaningless existence, and we love them for that. But now that I’ve tasted the sweet fruit of true happiness for the first time in my life, I want more. And that begins by leaving this place behind and finding our own little hole in the world, somewhere far away from these rolling hills.”
“These rolling hills aren’t so bad,” he ponders, his eyes shift toward the distance behind me where the open field folds against a tree-lined hill. “It’s kind of scary to think of the world beyond them, actually.”
“You could come with us,” Noah points out. “I’ve seen scary, and whatever’s out there beyond these city limits isn’t scary. It’s a whole lot of things, but not scary.”
It’s not the response I was anticipating, so it comes as a shock when Luke nods his head. He’s actually mulling it over in his mind. “I don’t know. Old Town’s the only thing I’ve ever known.”
“See?” Noah questions. “That’s what I find scary—terrifying even—being stuck in the same place forever. If I’m still here in five years, there’s no telling who I’ll become. I’m not sure I want to stick around to find out.”
* * *
PRESENT
For the first time since I returned home, I turn my phone on. There’s only enough battery left to make a few calls. Quickly, I scroll through my short list of contacts and find Luke’s number.
I place the phone to my ear and pull my jacket tight with the other hand. It’s freezing outside, so cold that I can see every atom of my breath dance before me. My mind is stifled with every ring of the phone, each ring leading to the inevitable conclusion that Luke’s not going to answer.
There’s no voicemail set up, so I lower the phone and power it off. I’ll try again in a few hours. It’s around noon, and there’s only one place I can think of to find him. Noah’s church.
I know it might seem that I’m in love with Luke, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I love him, absolutely, but I’ve never been in love with him. That’s always been Noah, but Luke is the only one that ever made me feel safe after the accident. Noah went into a downward spiral before finding Jesus. Luke and I were on the same wavelength of grief. Two steps forward, followed immediately by three steps back. And then there’s that other thing.
Our big secret. The sooner I can find him, the sooner I can move on with my life.
The sky is dark, full of heavy clouds that paint the scene around me in despair. Up ahead, I can see the peak of the church. My heart begins to race, pumping blood through my veins so fast that my body begins to shake.
I make my way to the stoop of the church and brace one hand firm against the oak doors. Followed by a deep breath, I push the left door open gently, hoping to avoid making a scene as I wade into a booming sermon.
It’s Noah standing at the forefront of the church behind the podium. He’s perfectly positioned so that his body is centered in front of the huge wooden cross that adorns the wall behind the stage.
He commands the room with his words, so much that I’m not sure a single soul notices me. I take a seat in the last row, where nobody else sits, and thank the heavens that nobody—especially Noah—pays attention to me.
“In every bout of darkness, there is light. We can’t—or won’t—be able to always see it, but we’ll always feel it in our hearts. Always. Our God isn’t a vengeful god. No, he’s nothing like you’ll hear on talk radio. He’s a forgiving God, and just like he has forgiven me so many times, he’ll forgive you, too.” He’s a natural leader, speaking from the heart and igniting the fire within everyone who listens. He has eyes that wrap around your soul and promise honesty. He looks nothing like what I remember—his boyish face still intact while the rest of his presence seems to have changed. He’s bigger, bulkier. There’s a weight around him, tangled with darkness. I’m sure nobody else in this church sees it, but I’ve always been able to see right through him.
“John, chapter one, verse nine tells us, if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
On the rare occasion that I attend church—the last time was years ago—I have an underlying sense that I don’t belong. Whether that’s because I don’t believe in God or because I know I should, it doesn’t make a difference. I’m overtaken with a sense of peace when he’s up there speaking, but when he begins to break out the scripture, I’m overtaken with a sense of uncomfortableness.
So once again, skipping to step three. I stand up and bolt, pushing the doors open and landing into the cold grasp of the November weather. This time, I’m sure he saw me.
4
I sit on the curb, my knees rising over my stomach. Through the thin fabric of my jeans, I can feel the cold asphalt of the sidewalk. I rub my hands together, creating enough friction to warm them while I wait.
Waiting for what? I don’t know. Waiting for Noah? Waiting to run? Seeing him again is like a shock to the system. He has that effect on me—making me question even the things I’m surest of. We have a history that can’t be denied, a history that is defined by elusive moments of bliss amongst a sea of tragedy.
Then I hear the church doors creak open, a booming voice preaches from the pedestal, but it’s not Noah. He creeps up behind me and I know it’s my last chance to run.
“Isn’t this a rare sight?”
“You saw me?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“You were kind of hard to miss, walking into the middle of the service.”
I stand up and turn to face him while crossing my arms, effectively putting a barrier between us. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but you seem to be doing just fine.”
“I’m doing great.” He gives me a crooked smile. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but I know you wouldn’t tell me anything more than a lie
.”
I turn my head and scoff—wow. “I made a mistake coming here.”
His eyes zone in on me. “Why are you here, Faith?”
“I’m looking for Luke.”
“I mean, why are you back in Old Town? I thought you’d never come back.”
“It wasn’t a part of the plan, no.”
“Well, if you’re looking for Luke, you’re not going to find him.”
“And why is that?”
He shrugs. “Let’s just say that he’s not the same guy you remember and let’s leave it at that.”
“I don’t have time to play your games. If I had found Luke, I wouldn’t even be here right now.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“You’re absolutely right about that.”
“So…,” he gestures with one hand, “what the hell are you doing still standing here?”
My teeth sink into my lip. A tear wells up in the corner of my eye, but I brush it away before it rolls down my cheek. “I’m going to go,” I say and turn to flee, walking away slowly so that it gives any other illusion than that of me running.
“They don’t call you the Goodbye Girl for nothing,” he hollers as the distance between us becomes greater.
“Such an asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
When I come to a crosswalk, waiting for the Sunday traffic to come to a stop, I glance back at the church to see Noah still standing there. He wipes his palm against his mouth, cupping his chin as he stares blankly into the distance. There’s a very familiar look etched across his face…
* * *
FIVE YEARS AGO
Their glowing faces are photographed in my mind—that of two proud parents who’ve just witnessed their three children all graduating on the same day. There are a hundred photos on my phone of every possible combination of the five of us—Noah, Luke, Mom, Dad and I. That’s five hundred smiles—an album documenting the best day of my life.
Faithless #1: A Tainted Love Serial Page 2