Blue

by H. J. Bellus

  Knowing my friends will stop me if I give them any warning, I head out the front door to my truck and zip off to the beach, to the place that was the best day of my life and ultimately ruined it. It wasn’t the beach as much as my fucking shallow train of thought.

  Looking back, I’m a fucking idiot for never allowing Blue the whole me. The day she told me she loved me, I should’ve ripped my shirt off in public for her. She saw it all and adored me like a god, and all I could do was push her away. At night, in the stillness of the dark, I can picture her loving eyes soaking up every single one of my burns, and in the sweetest and rarest of moments, I feel her lips on me again. But it all vanishes as fast as it comes.

  Settling onto the sandy beach, I take my shirt off and let the breeze hit my skin, not caring who sees me or might judge, and send prayer after prayer up to whomever might be listening to bring Blue home. Her dad calls me every day with updates from the private investigator they’ve hired and the dead ends they’ve hit.

  I still don’t understand why her father would ever even speak to me again after hearing my statement at the precinct, but he’s never given up on me and reminds me of the fighter heart that Blue has. Instead of pushing him away or punishing myself over it, I’ve embraced him like my own father figure, and have even opened up to him. Her mom, on the other hand, is a mess and has been admitted to a hospital for help.

  I spend my evenings like this on a regular basis, blowing up at my friends, retreating off to my haven at the beach, and then scouring the town. My truck has packed on the miles roaming up and down the streets and alleys. I’ve given up hope that she’s in town anymore, but never that she’s alive. I’ll never give up that hope, or at least I try to convince myself of that fact.

  As the sun begins to set, I send off one more silent prayer for Blue and decide to wander the streets tonight on foot. Most of the shops are occupied by exuberant college kids living like I should be with Blue on my arm. I quicken my pace through these blocks, knowing there’s no way she’d be here or she’d be spotted by now. Her picture has been blasted all over town, and the nation for that matter. Every single time I see her face on the news and that bright smile shining back at me, it hurts.

  When I drive, I lose track of time and just keep searching for her. I’ve made it through the college part of town, through the ritzy mansions, and now into the slums. I lift several lids of trashcans, knowing I’m a fool to even look, but I can’t help it. Several of the homes are run-down with broken windows and shitty roofing. It doesn’t stop me from scouring everywhere. I know this is a place I haven’t ventured, so it intrigues me.

  I come across a homeless shelter and feel a tug on my arm. When I look back, an elderly woman looks up into my eyes as if she knows me.

  “Never give up hope. You are so close.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask her, bending down a bit.

  “She’s here.”

  “Who?”

  “Your love.”

  “Eleanor, leave him alone.”

  A brunette pulls the woman away, but it doesn’t stop her from talking.

  “She’s here. The one you want.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, she rambles all the time.”

  They disappear into the homeless shelter, sending goose bumps all over me. The woman’s eyes were haunted, but it seems I read way too much into even the tiniest clues, and they all lead to nothing.

  I pass the same desolate homes on the walk back, and even though it’s darker as night settles in, you still can’t miss the broken windows of the houses and the shitty environment. Then it’s like I cross over an imaginary line where the homes become nicer and the college campus begins to permeate the air. All hopes of finding Blue tonight drift away as fast as they entered my mind.

  My truck is the only one left in the parking lot, and barely lit by the streetlights. Starting my engine, I begin to lose my shit again. It seems to be a daily routine, and whatever is near gets the shit thoroughly beat out of it. My poor steering wheel can’t take much more. My head slams back into the glass as I stare up into the dark night sky speckled with shining stars, and I wonder for the first time if Blue is one of them looking back down on me. I’ve refused to believe the worst, but at times like this, what other choice do I have?

  Sleep will never come, so I drive and drive in the darkness, knowing even if Blue was near I’d miss her. I find myself in front of the homeless shelter and replay the lady’s words in my mind. Something about her pulls me from my truck.

  The shelter is not buzzing like before. It’s clear supper has been served and everyone has moved on. When I enter the building, a strong stench hits me, nearly causing me to gag. It’s a mixture of piss and filth. I try not to stare at random people loitering around or lying on the ground. I finally spot someone with a name badge and wave them over.

  “Sorry, sir, we’re full tonight. Try the shelter on the other side of the city.”

  “I’m actually looking for an older lady who I talked to earlier tonight.”

  The volunteer isn’t impressed as she raises an eyebrow at me and cocks a hand on her hip.

  “Yeah, I want a million dollars and to marry Santa Claus.”

  “Ma’am, I’m being very serious. I’m looking for a missing person, and an elderly woman said some pretty random stuff to me earlier. I’d like to talk to her.”

  “You need to vacate the premises or I’ll call the cops. We don’t have room tonight.”

  I try again to reason with the overworked volunteer, but she threatens me again with the authorities, leaving me no choice but to walk away.

  “Wait, sir.” When I turn around I see the volunteer who escorted the elderly lady off earlier. “Did you need something?”

  “I know this sounds odd, but I’d really like to see the woman who was talking to me earlier.”

  “Oh, honey.” She touches my forearm as an almost comical expression covers her face. “She’s a drifter, and was only here for a few hours today and then wandered off again. Maybe stops in every couple of weeks. Who knows where she is now.”

  “She’s not a regular?”

  “No, not many are, and when they are, we try to set them up in a home or turn them in to the authorities.”

  “I was just looking…Never mind.” I grab the back of my beanie in frustration. “Thanks for your time.”

  Stepping out of the shelter, I look for something to punch, and the two women’s voices fill the quiet space as I walk.

  “He’s hot.”

  “Yeah, but seriously, focus. We need to call the cops on blondie. It’s the same gal who was here a few weeks ago.”

  It doesn’t even amuse me anymore when random chicks check me out or make comments. In fact, it makes me want to beat the fuck out of something even more. I quicken my pace to the truck to find something to punish. Too bad, tonight I pound my fist into the metal side of my truck. The sting feels amazing, and then the throb of everlasting pain shoots through my hand as I pound it again.

  Then it’s as if someone slaps me in the fucking face. I bolt back into the shelter and find the two volunteers still deep in conversation.

  “Excuse me.”

  They both look up at me.

  “Did I hear you say something about a blonde?”

  “Listen, super jock,” says the first volunteer, who was less than welcoming. “Get the hell out of here and move on.”

  Something catches my attention, and when I turn, I see a mass of blonde hair. Walking closer to the corner, I can make out a frail body huddled in the corner with matted blonde hair draped over most of her legs. Stepping close to the person without invading their personal space, I feel something I haven’t in months…hope.

  My hearts stills in my chest when I see the scars on her knees, and then my breathing hitches when I spot the large freckle peeking through the dirty, messy blonde hair hanging over her forearm.

  “Blue.”

  The figure doesn’t move a bit.

  “Blue, it’s Tu
ck.”

  A deep, husky voice comes from the huddled mess. “Leave me alone.”

  “Sir, please don’t talk to her. We need to call the cops. She’s a mess.”

  I don’t rise to my feet or quit staring. This is Blue, and it takes everything inside of me not to tug her face to look up at me.

  “It’s Tuck, Blue. Your boyfriend. I love you and have looked for you every day.”

  “My name isn’t Blue.”

  I feel a light tapping on my shoulder and turn slightly to see the friendly volunteer.

  “She doesn’t know her name or who she is. We’ve kicked her out for soiling herself and not trying to better her situation. She’s beyond malnourished, and needs help. We are turning her in tonight.”

  “Please.” It comes out louder than I expect. “Call the cops now.”

  I turn back to the person huddled in front of me, and this time I touch her. The moment my hands touch her skin, I know it’s her. I feel that electric connection and the way she used to make me feel. Then I spot the Preston logo on her shorts and begin to panic, but try to keep my cool on the outside.

  “Blue,” I cry. “Look at me.”

  In slow motion she lifts her head, and I watch as each thick, matted dreadlock falls to the side of her face. Eyes I once knew stare back at me, but are so far away with nothing behind them. Her gaze darts away an instant later. Her fingers tremble upon her knees.

  “Blue, look at me.”

  “I’m not Blue.” Urine seeps out onto the ground as her body begins to shake violently. “Lea…lea…leave me alone.”

  I can’t help but grab her hand and hold it in mine, trying to calm her poor body. I have no doubt this is my Blue, and I can’t even begin to process what in the fuck got her in this condition. I place my other hand on her cheek and gently force her to look in my eyes.

  “Look at me, Blue, I’m here for you.”

  She nestles her head into my touch, relaxing into my palm, and her hand stops shaking so rapidly. Tears form in her eyes and begin rolling down her cheeks.

  Turning around, I see the two volunteers staring at us. “Call 911 right now, and the cops.”

  My voice comes out harsh, and I feel Blue tense in my hold once again, so I go right to calming her back down.

  “Blue, do you remember me?”

  She’s frozen and slowly drifting back into a dark state.

  “You’re a cheerleader. I play football. You make me do your homework.” I ramble on and on, trying to remember everything about us. “You loved me, Blue, and I love you. I was an asshole.”

  She eases back into my hand, resting her cheek in it, and closes her eyes. I take her trembling hand and bring it to my shirt. Lifting my shirt, I run her palm up and down the ripples of marred skin she used to worship on a nightly basis. Blue opens her eyes, lifting her head to look at me, and then her gaze goes straight to where her hand is placed.

  “Tuck,” she whispers.

  “Yes, Tuck. Blue, I’m here for you.”

  Her body convulses again. I swoop her up into my arms and roll her into my lap. Blue buries her head in my chest, burrowing into a tiny ball. Her body doesn’t still as she repeats my name over and over again. I sob into her filthy mess of hair as I feel her wet herself again. I keep talking to her while we wait for help.

  “Your mom and dad are looking too, Blue. We never gave up. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much and was such an asshole. Fuck, I hope you can forgive me. I’m never leaving you again.”

  My last sentence strikes a nerve with her, breaking the trance she’s trapped in. Her hair flies up, and then her hollow face is in mine. She’s beyond unhealthy. The word fragile doesn’t even begin to describe her.

  “You put a curse on my heart, Tuck. I can only love you.”

  I watch in slow motion as her eyes roll back in her head and her entire body goes limp in my arms. Sirens and flashing lights fill the room in the next moment. Emergency workers swoop in and take her from my arms. Before standing, I grab my phone from my pocket.

  “I found her. She’s alive.”

  Blue’s dad’s response is a click of the phone, and I know he’s on his way here. I fall back on the floor, staring up at the water-stained ceiling tiles, and squeeze my temples and finally feel for the first time in months. I found her. Blue is alive.

  Epilogue

  “Mommy, what does that say again?”

  “The curse of my warrior.”

  “Tell me the story again.”

  I ruffle little Will’s hair and scoop him up in my lap. There’s plenty of time before the game starts, and we really don’t have much to entertain ourselves in the bleachers, and I never miss a chance to stare in his beautiful and very curious eyes.

  “Remember, silly boy.” I poke the tip of his nose. “It’s part of my vows from my wedding day. I got it tattooed on my arm to never forget.”

  “But who’s your warrior?”

  This little four year old’s questions never get old, and it still amazes me how curious he is.

  “Your daddy.”

  “But then who am I?”

  “My hero.” I ruffle his dark hair again and wait for him to swat my hand away.

  “Grandma,” Will yells with absolutely no control on the level of his voice. Tuck is constantly worried he’ll grow up and want to be a cheerleader the way he can yell. It’s our running inside joke.

  Will bounds down the bleachers and flies into the arms of my mom. I’d like to think I was his favorite person on this Earth, but that would just be a lie. My mom and Will are inseparable. They are always a bittersweet picture of perfection, yet my heart cringes every single time I see them embrace.

  My dad was diagnosed with a fast-acting cancer when I was three months pregnant and passed away three months after that. The man who raised me, loved me unconditionally, and forced me to get back to living after my attack simply wasted away before my eyes. Tuck stood by my side while I lay in bed with my dad day after day and watched him lose the fight.

  Tuck and my dad became best friends after finding me, and were shits at times, but completely lovable shits who adored me. We spent three sweet years together with my dad and mom before he passed. It’s those memories I cling on to. My father walking me down the aisle, handing me off to Tuck, then wrapping Tuck up in a hug before turning to sit with Mom. It’s not tradition, but he gave away Tuck that day as if he were his father. It had nearly all of the attendees at our wedding in tears. I’ve seen Tuck Jones cry three times in my life. When he opened up to me about his past, the day my dad hugged him at our wedding, and when Will came into our lives.

  Yet my selfless king stood by me the entire time, watching my father fade, and then held me through grieving, never being selfish even though he was hurting as badly as I was. When my little wild child miniature Tuck came shooting out in the world, there was only one name suited for our perfect prince, Will W. Jones. And since the universe never gets tired of playing jokes on me, he has my dad’s sense of humor, intelligence, and Tuck’s athletic abilities. The boy is constantly wandering the house with a pigskin tucked under his arm. My dad would’ve had the boy running plays already.

  I never went back to Preston after my freshman year. I stayed at home with my parents and immersed myself in online classes and several sessions of counseling. The day it was released I was found, Steve turned himself in, and then shortly ratted out Stephie. Their mission…to force my hand and make me leave. They won, and that fact haunted me for months. She wanted head cheerleader and wouldn’t stop at anything. But if it weren’t for Tuck’s endless love and continued support, I’d still believe they won.

  My dad’s words rang true. Once a snake, always a snake. Stephie and Steve simply fucked up because Dad was the ultimate snake killer, putting them both away for life. He hired the best lawyers and didn’t relent. I’ve never fully remembered the elapsed time in my life. My last memory was being knocked out and then coming back to with my palm pressed against Tuck’s skin. Doc
tor after doctor tried to get my memory back, but it never came. I know it’s the best blessing of all.

  But what actually happened is Stephie and Steve instilled a drive and passion in me that will never die or be extinguished by another threat. I found my niche in life, and that’s in counseling and coaching. And ultimately they landed me right in the middle of Tuck Jones’ hurricane life. Neither of us would’ve ever been brave enough to peel back all our protective layers until we saw the real person standing on the other side.

  Tuck was never an option, rather a force I had to face, and against all odds we’ve made it. He finished his senior year, winning a national championship with me and my parents, and of course, his family by his side. I never missed a college game. The day he refused to enter the NFL draft was more heartbreaking for me than for him. He wanted nothing to do with it, even though he was expected to be drafted in the first round.

  Tuck wanted to buy a home, open his accounting business, marry me, and knock me up. He made that statement every single time I brought up the conversation. He’s still bullheaded as fuck and an asshole, but he’s all mine.

  I rise to my feet and hug my mom as she and Will make it up to the top row of the bleachers.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hey, baby Blue, I love you.”

  “Look what grandma bought me.” I feel a light tug on the end of my shirt. When I look down, I see Will smiling brightly back at me with a large bag of blue cotton candy.

  “Of course she did.” I roll my eyes in my mother’s direction.

  She shrugs. “I brought wet wipes.”

  The Friday night lights flip on, bringing the football field to life, and I see my very sexy husband lead his team out on the field. He’s dressed in a short sleeve team t-shirt, with sexy gym pants, and a backward ball cap. He’s followed by the star quarterback and his biggest fan, Ruger. We moved back to his hometown after my father passed and made our home. My mom is our next door neighbor, with Joe on the other side, so yes, I’ve become the pro at not screaming out in pleasure as Tuck works his magic on my lady bits.