We'll Fly Away

by Bryan Bliss

  Anyway, I told Eddie to get out of my face and he lost it. All, “You think you’re hard? You think I haven’t seen this shit a hundred times before?”

  Every word came out louder than the last. Telling me how it took him ten years to get his head right—ten years, gone. Just like that. Sister had told me that Eddie spent more time in isolation than anybody she’d known. That when she first met him, he spit on the glass. Said things she wouldn’t repeat. A living, breathing monster.

  Anyway, Eddie must’ve been looking a little too much like his old self, because one of the COs said his name from across the cafeteria. It seemed to snap him out of it too. He nodded at the guard, holding up his hands to show we were cool. As he sat down across from me, everything about him was calm as a Sunday morning. Except for his eyes. They were on fire.

  He talked out the side of his mouth, each word hard as rock.

  “You think I want to be happy all the time? You think I don’t want to burn this whole place to the ground?”

  When I didn’t say anything, Eddie reached across the table and grabbed my hand, which would be trouble as soon as the guard saw us. But Eddie didn’t care, wasn’t even pretending to look in his direction as he talked to me. Fast. Like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.

  I didn’t want to hear another word he was saying, but then he was like, “You get to choose if you care. They can’t take that away from you. And you get to choose if you’re going to walk through the rest of your life like a dead man. I’ve made my choice.”

  After that, he stood up and stomped off like he was mad at me. It’s a good thing too. Because what Eddie and Sister—everybody in this place—doesn’t realize is, you and I never had a choice. There wasn’t a single moment when we weren’t risking something. Every minute, every second. An anxiety that never leaves. Struggling for breath my whole fucking life.

  And that’s supposed to change in here?

  Luke

  7

  LUKE barely spoke to Toby on the way to school, staring out the window and trying to quiet the howling anger inside him. To forget how his mother barely came out of the room as he got the boys ready for school. When they got to the parking lot, Luke jumped out of the car without a word, pretending not to hear Toby call his name.

  The wrestling room was empty, save Coach O and Seth, a former college wrestler who came in every week to help Luke work out. He laced up his shoes as Seth jogged around the mat. Luke fell in behind him, nodding to Coach as he passed.

  ONE PERCENT IMPROVEMENT, A HUNDRED PERCENT EFFORT. He’d taken those words to heart from the moment he saw the poster in the room. As he ran, he could feel the sweat tracing a line down his back, every single drop representing the work he’d been putting in since that very first win years ago. Despite everything. Because of it.

  His entire first season, people penciled in an automatic win. Luke Teague? Never heard of him. As far as they knew, he was just another kid wrestling in busted-up Nikes because he couldn’t afford wrestling shoes.

  And then he ran the table.

  The first few wins were easily explained. Anyone who followed high-school wrestling could tell you: a couple of wins didn’t mean much. Something like that could be cultivated. There were plenty of wrestlers who hit the district tournament only to discover they were soft as cotton. Wrestlers Luke ran through like a buzz saw.

  He pushed himself harder and harder, trying to empty his mind as he circled the small wrestling room. Every time he thought he was free, Ricky would pop into his head. Or his mother. Toby and that damn car. He’d done close to a hundred laps when Coach O called him over to start seven-minute live sessions with Seth.

  Most days, Seth could barely keep up with Luke. But as soon as Coach told them to start, Luke couldn’t find the groove. Everything floated by him seconds too late. Seth had his legs and was driving him to the mat, controlling him in every way.

  Coach O was shouting instructions and encouragements as Luke slowly pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Seth tried to drive him back down, but he was too high, and Luke spun away. Coach clapped. When they were both standing, Seth winked at Luke. It was nothing, a head game that a lot of wrestlers played. Some blew kisses or whispered in your ear when they had you down. It rarely bothered Luke, but today the way Seth did it got under his skin.

  Luke shot toward him, but the entire move was undisciplined. Seth hit him with a crossface and wrenched Luke down to the mat. For a second, Luke was on his back—the first time in years. He bridged and got to his stomach, but it rattled him. For the rest of the seven minutes, he wrestled safe. Enough that by the end, Seth was cussing him.

  “Do you want this or not?” he asked.

  Luke took off his headgear and tossed it to the corner. Coach O moved Seth off the mat, whispering something to him. Before he left the room, Seth held out both his arms and said, “He won’t get there wrestling like that.”

  Coach O came over to Luke when Seth was gone. “Off day, that’s all.”

  “I’m still over,” Luke said. “I can feel it.”

  Coach waved it away. “Don’t worry about that. Are you doing the work?”

  “Yes,” Luke said.

  “Then that’s all you can do.”

  Luke nodded, and Coach O took him by the shoulders. “You’re going to go to class. Eat a good lunch. Go home and get a full night’s rest. And then you’re going to come in here tomorrow night and take care of business.”

  Luke tried to object, but Coach held up a hand. “Match by match, Luke. Stop worrying about the scale. Just come here tomorrow, ready to kick some ass, and I promise you’ll be ready for Herrera next week.”

  Relief flooded him. It wouldn’t last, he knew, but for a moment Luke felt calm. Like the world wasn’t spinning out of control. Coach O’s face went stern.

  “You still owe me twenty minutes,” Coach said, checking his watch. “I’ll take it in laps. And stop eating all that pizza. Okay?”

  Luke smiled and started running. He circled the mat as fast as he could until Toby burst through the doors, looking annoyed.

  “Jesus. It smells like ass and cat food in here,” he said. Luke slowed down but didn’t stop running, and Toby came up beside him, jogging.

  “You know most people would think this isn’t normal.”

  “Okay,” Luke said. It was all he could say. He could already feel something bubbling up in his stomach. Sometimes when he trained, it almost became a game in itself. How long could he last before he had to retch?

  Toby kept talking.

  “Not me, of course. But other people. I hear words like ‘freak.’ But I’ve always got your back, as you know.”

  Luke ran to the corner of the room, to the garbage can. There wasn’t anything in his stomach, but he still managed a sickly green slime that was neither solid nor liquid. He spit into the can a few times.

  When he stood up, Toby said, “That’s exactly the smell this room needed.”

  Luke shook his head. “I’m going to be here for a while.”

  Toby didn’t look shocked, but he didn’t look as if he was going to leave the room anytime soon, either. He stood there like he wanted to say something before hesitantly reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of bills.

  “You want to skip and go somewhere? Do something?”

  “Where did you get the money?” Luke asked.

  “I found it in the car.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  Toby grinned. “Well, you caught me. I’ve been selling my body to the women of Catawba County. Big demand.”

  Luke didn’t laugh. They both knew Toby was lying. They both knew where the money had come from. When he realized the joke had failed, Toby’s face went hard.

  “What do you want me to say?” Toby dropped both his hands and stared at Luke, not waiting for him to answer. “What do I care how Jimmy got the money? It’s mine now. Shit, it’s ours.”

  Luke didn’t want to argue with him, but even if
Toby didn’t care about the money—Jimmy would. They might not see the strings attached to this, but there was one on every single bill Toby held.

  “I can’t skip,” Luke said. “They won’t let me wrestle.”

  “Fine. Whatever,” Toby said, stuffing the money back into his pocket.

  Luke looked at the mat. He didn’t want to disappoint Toby, to be the one always holding up the caution light. But they’d been waiting so long to get out of Hickory. Somehow it seemed worse to mess up, to ruin everything months, rather than years before they could escape.

  “Maybe we could take the boys out for ice cream,” Luke finally said. Now Toby was looking at the mat. He nodded, obviously happy but not wanting to show it as he kicked his heel against the wall.

  “If you’re lucky, I’ll buy your ass a diet ice cream,” he said.

  “I’ll make sure I run home this afternoon, just in case.”

  Toby nodded but didn’t make to leave. He looked Luke in the eye.

  “I know I shouldn’t take the money,” he said. “But sometimes . . .”

  Toby stared up at the ceiling in frustration. The truth was, Luke didn’t need him to finish the sentence. He knew every word of it by heart. Sometimes you didn’t want to struggle for every inch of your life.

  “Don’t take anything else from him,” Luke said.

  Toby smiled. “What? Do you think I’m stupid?”

  The smile faded as quick as it appeared.

  The rest of the day was a blur. By the time the final bell rang, Luke felt good. He went to the regular team practice and Coach O told him to take it easy, a comment that got Simpson and his friends laughing on the other side of the mat. Luke worked out with the assistant coaches, both of them quitting before he needed to. At the end of practice, he felt strong.

  He started the long, slow run down the highway toward his apartment. As he ran, the usual people passed him. Men coming home from work in loud, jacked-up trucks. Tired moms in minivans. Every so often a kid from school would honk, wave—neither of which Luke acknowledged. He ran blindly, only focused on each step that hit the pavement.

  So when the rusted hatchback slammed its brakes and then backed toward him with an unhealthy whirring sound, Luke almost kept running. It wasn’t until Annie said his name that he stopped.

  “Do you ever walk?”

  Nobody understood cutting weight. No matter how many times he rationalized it, explained that he didn’t mind the discipline. And that’s all it was: discipline. He didn’t care about not eating a slice of pizza or skipping the doughnuts his English teacher sometimes brought for their first-period class. In some ways, his entire life had prepared him for it. But it wasn’t only about not having enough to eat. It was a sacrifice for something bigger than him. Something that was close to holy.

  Still, all he could manage was, “I’m still trying to lose weight.”

  This time Annie laughed without hesitation. “Yeah, I can tell.”

  Luke’s entire body went flush. He wanted to clarify, to channel Toby for a moment and say something smooth. Something like, “Well, I can tell you’re beautiful.” Even thinking it, the words were dull and clumsy. But he did think she was beautiful, a fact that suddenly embarrassed him.

  “When can I actually see you wrestle?” Annie said. “From what I hear, you’re kind of a badass.”

  “I do okay,” Luke said. It came out unintentionally cool.

  “I’ll judge that for myself,” she said, hanging her arm out the window and pointing as she talked.

  It should be so easy: ask her to come to the match tomorrow. To cheer him on. Shit, Toby had done as much a hundred times over the years, inviting girls to watch Luke wrestle. None of them came, of course—wrestling wasn’t the sort of sport that naturally attracted spectators other than parents—but the invitations always came so effortlessly from Toby’s lips.

  “So . . . do you want a ride?” Annie finally said. “It’s pretty cold.”

  Luke hadn’t felt it until he stopped, but now his skin was suddenly puckering in the sharp air. He imagined sitting in the car, the heat hitting his skin. How his legs—his entire body—would collapse into the seat next to Annie. That was enough. He opened the door, squinting into the sudden bright light, and flopped down into the seat. As soon as the door was closed, Annie turned up her music and spun the tires until they were back on the road.

  She drove fast and sang loudly, only looking at Luke when she took a turn at light speed and he instinctively grabbed the seat cushion below him.

  “Doing okay over there?”

  Luke nodded, picturing them flying off the road, hitting cows or trees or anything else that would kill them.

  “You’re just going . . . fast,” he said.

  “Ugh, that’s the problem with this whole state. Everything’s moving in slooooow motion.”

  “Except you,” Luke said without thinking. Annie smirked, conceding the point with a nod. Was it that easy to be smooth? Was it more comfort and confidence than anything else?

  “You’re probably one of those North Carolina Forever types, aren’t you?” Annie said.

  “No. I’m leaving as soon as I can,” Luke said.

  Annie studied him, totally ignoring the road. As if she was searching for a clue. “Yeah, I don’t believe you. You’ve got good ol’ boy written over every square inch of that body.”

  She poked him in the leg for emphasis, and they both froze at the contact.

  “Well, I’m going to Iowa. In August.”

  “Iowa? Oh my god, why?”

  “Wrestling.”

  Annie laughed once. “You couldn’t pay me to go to Iowa.”

  Luke turned and looked out the window. Going to Iowa never felt like a choice. It was a culmination, an ending. He had no idea what happened after they drove across the state line. And he wasn’t sure it mattered what they were doing, as long as they were gone.

  “I was just kidding,” Annie said, reaching over and touching his shoulder. The same spike of cold excitement shot through him. He turned and stared at Annie, her face animated as she spoke. “But seriously. Why do people love this place so much? So far, I’ve seen nothing special. Just a bunch of good ol’ boys in trucks chewing tobacco. And by the way, what’s that about?”

  Luke had nothing. “I’ve never chewed tobacco.”

  “Good. Because, nasty.” She made the turn that would lead them back to the apartment complex. Luke felt the impending good-bye in his gut.

  “So how much do you have to lose?”

  “I’m almost done, I hope. It was four pounds.”

  Annie’s eyes went wide. “Four pounds! Jesus, where are you going to lose it? You’re already nothing but muscle!”

  “Well . . .” Luke wasn’t sure what to say. They could see the apartments now. Could see the lights lifting above the darkness that was the parking lot. He wanted to tell her to keep driving. To extend this any way he could.

  Instead he said, “I wrestle tomorrow. If you want to come.”

  Annie pulled into the parking lot, shooting him a sideways glance. At first Luke was nervous he’d misread something—that she really didn’t want to see him wrestle. Before she could say anything, Annie cussed loudly and slammed on the brakes. The entire car jumped.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Annie yelled.

  Toby was standing in front of the car with his hands on the hood, as if he’d stopped them himself. He looked from Luke to Annie and then back to Luke as they got out of the car. Without a word, Toby broke into a smile—big and forced.

  “Well, this is . . . unexpected.” He stepped away from Annie’s car, still smiling. “Are you on the wrestling team?”

  “Don’t be a dick,” Annie said. “I saw him running and asked him if he wanted a ride.”

  “And he . . . stopped? Damn, you must have superpowers. I’ve never seen anybody or anything get between Luke and a workout.”

  Luke tried to conjure an explanation. He should’ve been straig
ht with Toby as soon as he’d seen Annie in the parking lot. As soon as he felt that twinge of expectation in his stomach. He knew Toby liked Annie. And even if that infatuation only lasted two or three weeks—because they rarely lasted any longer—Luke should’ve said something.

  Basically, he was a coward and he knew it.

  “She lives here,” Luke said.

  “What!” Toby shook his head in mock amazement.

  Annie smiled at Luke. It was quicker and grimmer than any smile he’d seen before. But it still rolled through his body like a cannonball.

  “Well, I’m here all the time,” Toby said.

  “Oh joy,” Annie said.

  They stood there in silence. Luke searched Toby’s face for any sign of hurt. Some kind of clue to what he should say next. But when Toby turned to Luke, he was still guarding every emotion he had behind a big, fake smile.

  “I told the boys I was taking us out to eat.” He flashed the money again. “They picked Olive Garden.”

  Luke nodded. Of course they did. Doreen had taken them for their birthday last summer, and it had been a life-changing experience. The singing. The free dessert, complete with candle. They talked about it constantly, screaming every time Doreen drove by the restaurant.

  Toby motioned to Annie. “You should come too. It’s on me.”

  He shot Luke a look like, “Don’t say a word,” so Luke didn’t. He let Toby have his moment.

  “Uh, thanks. But no.”

  “What? You don’t like Olive Garden?” Toby laughed, as if she didn’t believe in gravity.

  Annie gave Luke a quick look and then said, “I’m good.”

  “Are you kidding?” Toby was full-on once again. “Free breadsticks! Salad.”

  It struck Luke that he knew nothing about Annie. They lived in the same apartment building—but what did that mean? People moved in all the time, new to the state and not informed on where they should or shouldn’t live. A month, maybe two, and the families with their out-of-state plates and minivans that were a tick too nice for the parking lot would disappear like a magic trick. To houses on the lake or one of the manicured subdivisions miles from here. Maybe she didn’t understand what it meant to be hungry, not even to care when the server gave you a look as he brought the eighth, ninth basket of breadsticks to the table. Eating them, sure. But wrapping them up in the napkins you asked for earlier—extending this meal for days, if possible.