OUTCAST: A Good Guys Novel

by Jamie Schlosser

  A laugh bubbled out of me. “Maybe you can tell me more than the private investigator.” I held up the folder. “Not much good news in here, I’m afraid.”

  She squeezed my hand. “I’ll tell you as much as I can. Melanie and I became best friends in those months we lived together, but even then she kept me at arm’s length. Melanie was a mystery. She had a rough childhood and I suspected she’d been abused in one way or another. It must’ve been something bad for her to run away to a life on the streets like she did. But I’d never met a more upbeat person. Most days—her good days—she had a smile for everyone. On bad days, she kept to herself, like she didn’t want to poison anyone with her sadness.”

  “Did she talk about the father?” I asked, hopeful for answers.

  Her smile slipped away. “Never.”

  “Oh.” I looked down. That wasn’t a great sign.

  “Didn’t mean she loved you any less, though. When she came back from the hospital with you, she didn’t want to put you down. Several nights she stayed awake, rocking you and staring at you like you might disappear. Very reluctantly, she let me babysit five mornings in a row. She didn’t tell me where she was going, and I didn’t ask. Then one afternoon, she packed you up…” Trailing off, Shauna’s eyes got misty. “There was a determination on her face and tears in her eyes, and I knew she was leaving. I begged her to stay, but I didn’t see her again for several years. When she showed up again, you weren’t with her.”

  “I got adopted by the best parents in the world.” I lifted my chin. “She did a good job.”

  Relief settled over her face. “I figured that was the case.”

  “Did she ever talk about me when she came around?”

  “Only once. She never stayed for long. The last time I saw her—” She reached into her purse to pull out a weathered envelope. “—was about eight or nine years ago. She gave this to me and said if you ever came looking for her to let you have it.”

  I took it from her. It was just a standard white envelope, no name written on it. “What’s in it?”

  “Don’t know. I never looked.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice broke. “When I heard of Melanie’s death, it was one of the biggest tragedies of my life. In the years she’d been gone, I’d gotten my life straightened out and I was working at the shelter as an assistant. Back then, I thought I could fix everyone. But I couldn’t fix her.”

  I nodded with understanding, wishing there was something I could give her in return for coming all the way here just for me. Wishing I could repay her for the kindness she’d shown my mother.

  Then I realized I did have a gift for her.

  “I have something for you. It isn’t much, and it’s kinda silly…” I dug into the front pocket of my backpack until my hands closed around the small sandwich baggie. Holding up the sparkly yellow lump, I shrugged. “It’s a pet rock. A friendship rock.”

  “Did you make this?” She grinned as she took it from me.

  “Yep. And here’s a card to go with it.” I gave her the small cardstock that simply had ‘You ROCK’ written on it.

  “Adorable. You ever thought about selling these?”

  “Actually, yeah. But I figured there wasn’t much money in it.”

  “You know, something like this would be great for a fundraiser.” Her gaze bounced up to me with an excited glint in her eyes. “For the shelter, I mean. How hard would it be for you to make a couple hundred of these?”

  “Not hard,” I replied. “I’d actually love to be a part of something like that.”

  Shauna beamed. “You have my card. Stay in touch and we’ll set something up. And maybe after you’ve had some time to get over this, we can sit down and talk all about Melanie.”

  “I’ll take you up on that,” I promised.

  Awareness of the letter in my backpack made my footsteps quick as I hustled into my dorm room. The door slammed behind me, and I was so glad to find that I had the room to myself. Because I could feel the ugly cry coming on, and I needed to be alone for this part.

  Curling up on my bed, I sat with my back against the wall and I pulled out the envelope.

  My hands trembled as I slowly opened it, being careful not to tear the packaging. I was even more gentle with the tri-folded note inside. It was just an old piece of paper, but every part of it was precious to me, especially the neatly scrawled words.

  My darling baby girl,

  You’re about ten years old now. I find myself thinking about what you look like, what your favorite hobbies are, and how you’re doing in school. I wonder what your smile looks like on Christmas morning. What your laugh sounds like when someone tells a funny joke. What your little hand would feel like holding mine.

  If there’s one thing I could tell you, it would be that I love you more than anything.

  I love you, I love you, I love you. And I love you some more.

  I’d planned on keeping you, come hell or high water, but as soon as I saw your innocent face, I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t tarnish you with my past or burden you with my present. I wasn’t sure if I could give you a future.

  If providing love was enough to make us rich, we would’ve been the wealthiest pair in the world. But that isn’t the way this world works, and you deserve the best.

  Although I haven’t experienced a lot of love in this life, I can still recognize it. I know what it looks like when I see it. When the agency showed me a file on two men wanting to adopt, I’ll be honest, I was surprised. It hadn’t occurred to me that your new family might be a little unconventional, but during the video, I saw two people who were madly in love and desperate for a family.

  My vision blurred from tears.

  I remembered the adoption video John and Rob had given the agency. They’d been completely transparent, showing all sides of their relationship. They were silly, affectionate, and honest. They even talked about the hard times, when they almost broke up after college and when Rob’s mom died. They spoke of the difficulty that came with being gay and the fears they had about never being given the chance to have children. And apparently, Melanie had been able to see something good in them.

  Wiping my eyes, I went back to reading.

  Family isn’t a one-size-fits-all. Love comes in many variations, shapes, sizes, colors, and faces. I knew as soon as I saw the file on the parents I chose for you. They were the ones.

  Times when I get down, I just remind myself that I did something amazing. You’re the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. I don’t talk about you often, but it’s not because you’re a dirty little secret. I’m just selfish when it comes to you. You’re my precious, beautiful secret, and sometimes it feels like if I keep you all to myself, somehow it makes you more mine.

  I’ve included a picture of us together. It’s the only picture I have of you, but I want you to have it. If or when you get this letter, and if you can find it in your heart to forgive me for giving you up… come find me. I’ll be waiting with open arms, longing to hold you once again.

  All my love and then some more,

  Mom

  A giant tear made a wet plop on the paper, and I quickly dabbed it dry with my T-shirt. There were other old streaks in a couple places, running down through the penned sentences. When Melanie wrote this, she’d been crying, too.

  How could she possibly think I wouldn’t forgive her? There was nothing to be sorry for in the first place. She gave me life. She made sure I had a good family to take care of me.

  I wanted to tell her that.

  But I’d never get to.

  Taking a deep shuddering breath, I shook the envelope until the picture fell out onto my lap. It had obviously been through some hard times, the colors a bit faded and the corners ragged, but the image was still intact.

  It was upside down, and I turned it slowly, careful not to smudge it with my fingerprints.

  I studied the dark-haired woman in the hospital bed. Although she wasn’t smiling, she was beautiful. Kind brown eyes st
ared down at the blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. Pink lips stood out against her olive-toned complexion. Her hair was something to be envious of—jet-black, sleek, and straight.

  So I definitely didn’t get my hair from her. My skin was a little darker, but our facial features were similar. I could see myself in the structure of her cheekbones, the slope of her nose, and the soft point of her chin.

  What stood out to me the most was the love-filled expression on her face.

  And suddenly, I knew I was going to be okay.

  In the span of an hour my life had changed, but I had no regrets. Later, I would let myself mourn for the woman who spent her days loving me until her body gave out.

  Today, I just wanted to focus on the good stuff.

  I was loved and wanted.

  All those times anyone teased me for being adopted were suddenly erased. Their cruel words had been lies meant to hurt me, but now I held the truth in my hands.

  I found myself smiling as I gently placed the priceless items back into the envelope, then I slipped it into the folder with the rest of the information the investigator gathered. Saving it for another day, I put the packet in my desk drawer.

  I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to center my emotions as I picked up my phone. The first person I wanted to share the news with was Ezra. Not my parents, not Gavin.

  But he still wasn’t answering my calls or texts, and I was starting to get really worried.

  Frowning, I listened to the last ring before leaving a somewhat weepy voicemail. “Hey, please call me back. I have something really important to tell you.”

  When I hung up, my eyes widened at the time on the screen.

  “Shit,” I whispered, realizing I was missing my afternoon classes.

  Oh, well. If there was ever a time to take a personal day, this was it.

  And since I was already playing hooky anyway, I might as well try to find Ezra. He should’ve been home by now, and I didn’t even care if I was acting like a crazy girlfriend by hunting his ass down.

  I was about to leave my dorm room when my phone rang. Thinking it was Ezra, I fumbled with it so spastically that I almost dropped it. Disappointment slammed through me when I saw Rocky’s number flash across the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, thank God you answered,” he rushed out. “I know you already had a shift today, but can you come in again? One of the newbies didn’t show up, another called in sick, and Megan is getting run ragged. Her double is about to turn into a triple.”

  I paused. Did I really want to work a second shift? No. But I’d already decided to skip class. I vaguely remembered Ezra saying he had another thing with the frat tonight, and I really didn’t feel like sitting around my dorm room alone on a Friday night.

  Plus, Rocky sounded so desperate, and I’d developed a soft spot for the old man.

  “Yeah, but there’s something I have to take care of first,” I told him. “When do you need me?”

  “Whenever you can get here.” He sounded relieved. “And it only has to be for a couple hours.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I hung up and looked down at my uniform. Well, at least I was work-ready.

  Not wanting to waste any time, I jogged to my car and pushed the speed limit as I drove the few blocks to Ezra’s apartment.

  The windows were dark when I parked out front, so I couldn’t tell if he was home or not. Only one way to find out.

  I decided not to knock. Using the key he’d given me, I let myself in.

  “Hello? Ezra?”

  Pierre greeted me, but he seemed anxious.

  “What’s the matter, pup?” I tried to pet him, but he dodged my hand.

  Taking my purse strap in his mouth, he started guiding me down the hall to the bedroom and a bad feeling came over me.

  “Ezra?” My voice was high and panicky as I pushed the door open.

  Leaning up on an elbow, Ezra blinked sleepily at me. The shades were drawn, making it difficult to see, but I could make out dark circles lining his eyes and his hair was messy with bedhead.

  “You look like shit,” I blurted out. “Are you sick?”

  “What time is it?” he rasped, his voice scratchy.

  “It’s after two o’clock. Did you miss your morning classes?”

  He nodded. “I guess so. I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”

  Sitting down on the side of the bed, I put my hand to his forehead. He didn’t feel feverish, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t coming down with something.

  He let out a cough, making a dry hacking sound.

  My poor guy was sick. I didn’t like it, but a part of me was relieved. Now I understood why he hadn’t shown up for our date, and the knots in my stomach lessened.

  Maybe this was what I needed to recover from the devastation I was feeling. Taking care of him would serve as a great distraction. I could just concentrate on helping him feel better, then I’d head off to work.

  Dropping a kiss to his disheveled head, I promised myself I wouldn’t think about Melanie until tomorrow. My mind and my heart needed some distance before I could fully face it again.

  “I’ll go make you something to eat,” I told Ezra, getting up from the bed before he could protest.

  Once I was in the kitchen, I searched his cabinets for canned soup, but then I remembered he didn’t eat the processed stuff anymore. Fortunately, I found some frozen beef stew in the freezer.

  I popped it into the microwave on defrost, then got out some crackers and searched the cabinet for some Tylenol.

  I felt better already.

  When I heard Ezra shuffle out to the kitchen, I glanced over my shoulder to see him leaning a hip against the counter.

  “You weren’t answering your phone and I’ve been really worried about you,” I scolded, but it was hard to be mad about it when he looked so awful. “Go get back in bed.”

  “I’m not sick.” Rubbing his eyes, he coughed again.

  I huffed. “Tell that to your reflection.”

  He tried to smile, but grimaced instead. “I need to sit down.”

  On his way over to the couch, I noticed he could barely put weight on his leg and my concern came back full-force.

  “Oh my God.” I rushed over to him, kneeling down to pull up his loose track pants. When I saw his leg, swollen and red, I gasped. “How did this happen? Did you fall again?”

  “No.” Pressing his lips into a thin line, he glanced away. Although he didn’t blush, I knew that look. He was ashamed and there was something he wasn’t telling me.

  “Hey, talk to me.” I rubbed his thigh. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

  “I’m not supposed to tell anyone but…” Letting out a resigned sigh, words started tumbling out of his mouth in a hoarse whisper, spilling the details of what went on after I dropped him off at the frat house. When he told me what happened—the all-nighter in the basement, sitting on the floor, chanting, the hose—I was livid.

  And it most definitely was not okay.

  “And that’s why my leg is fucked up and why I’m so tired,” he finished. “I didn’t get home until five or so this morning, and I didn’t ice my leg like I should have. I just took a muscle relaxer and crashed.”

  Rage caused my entire body to tremble as memories of Ezra being mistreated in high school flashed through my mind.

  And now it was happening again.

  Suddenly, puzzle pieces began falling into place. The knee injury last week, how exhausted he’d been on Sunday, and his vague explanations of what went on during their “meetings.”

  “They’re hazing you?” I asked low.

  His eyebrows pinched together. “No. It’s just a loyalty test. Everyone has to go through it to get in.”

  My fists balled tight. “That’s called hazing, Ezra. Why would you participate in something like that?”

  “I have to.”

  “Like hell you do!”

  Ezra flinched back at my shout, and I immediately
felt bad. A flush bloomed over his face, but I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment, shame, or anger.

  I wasn’t pissed at him—I was mad at those frat assholes. McAdams was a classy university. That kind of shit wasn’t supposed to happen here. At orientation, we’d been told there was a zero-tolerance policy on hazing.

  Silence stretched over long seconds, and Ezra rubbed his temples. Pierre sat at his side, ears perked up at attention.

  “Pierre, rapporte las eau,” I commanded softly, and the dog trotted off to the kitchen.

  “Your French is way better than mine.” Ezra attempted a lighthearted tone, but the way his voice broke reminded me of the abuse he’d suffered all night.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  Pierre came back with a bottle of water. I uncapped it and handed it to Ezra.

  “Thanks.” He took a long drink.

  “Why is this frat so important to you?” I questioned.

  “Because it’s important to you.”

  An exasperated noise left my gaping mouth. “Since when?”

  “Since always? In high school, you were involved with all the best clubs and got invited to all the best parties.” He looked down. “I just wanted to be good for you.” Then he said the last thing I ever expected to come out of his mouth. “Are you jealous?”

  My eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, that didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his head. “What I mean is, do you feel left out? Is that it? Because you have to know I’d never leave you behind. I’m doing this for both of us.”

  “I never asked you to do this,” I shot back, offended. “If you want friends, that’s great. If you want to join a frat and party it up, I’ll stick by your side. But I would never want you to put yourself in danger for it.” Ezra didn’t look convinced, so I continued. “I don’t care about popularity. Not anymore. I’ve already been down the road of changing myself to be what I thought other people wanted. The truth is, you’re better than that. You’re better than me, and you’re better than these ridiculous tests—which is called hazing, by the way.”