Chasing Peace

by Foxx, Gloria

  My heart broke for Boston, precious for what he had to offer, rather than for who he is. Tears flood over my eyelashes, trailing down my cheeks for the baby who was vital and the person so much an after thought. “They forgot to choose a name?”

  Boston’s chin sagged to his chest, his dark curls falling in disarray over his eyes, his hands limp in his lap. He needed someone to want him, to love him for the person he is, not what he has to offer. I do, but I’d told him I don’t and I’d sent him away.

  “I am so sorry,” I say going to him, climbing onto his lap, straddling him. He pulls his hands away, holding his arms out to his sides. His head swivels back and forth, trying to tell me no, but he doesn’t speak and he doesn’t push me away. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close. I hold on tight, my cheek resting atop his head, my tears falling into his hair.

  Finally he groans and settles his face into me, giving up and giving in. His face nestles where my neck meets my shoulder. I can feel the wet of silent tears as his arms wrap around me, loosely at first and growing stronger as if he gains strength from me.

  Chapter 20

  We doze off holding each other, sharing our misery and taking comfort in one another. I don’t know how long we slept, but the dark arrived before I awoke.

  Boston stirred when I moved. He stretched as I climbed off his lap, protesting muscles objecting to movement, objecting to having not moved.

  “This changes nothing you know.” He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, his bowed head in his hands.

  “I know.” I’m standing, hanging on to upright with determination like dangling over a cliff by my fingernails. I’d hoped, but I understand now that I made the worst possible mistake. “Why did you follow me for so long?”

  He chuckled, a cold hollow sound. “I had hope.”

  “But then you stopped?”

  “You told me to stop.”

  “When did I do that? We haven’t talked.”

  “The night you were lit up at the party.”

  “I don’t remember the conversation. What did I say?”

  “You told me you didn’t want to.”

  “What makes you think I told you the truth?”

  “You were too drunk to lie. All kinds of truths tumbled out of your mouth.”

  “Maybe I was protecting myself.”

  He drops his gaze from mine, staring at his feet. Fingers threaded in his hair tugged before sliding to the back of his neck on a sigh of frustration. Disappointment in his eyes holds me frozen in place, forcing me to listen. “I found you in the attic half dressed. I’m pretty sure you weren’t protecting anything. Will you go now?”

  * * *

  “I am not gonna chase him or badger him.”

  “So how’s that working for you?” Lyla asked. I’m at work and she’s trying to give me a nudge in Boston’s direction. She means well, but she just doesn’t get it.

  “I hurt him, so I’m giving him some space.” Lyla snorts at my response and then examines the glass she’d just polished as if she might have got some on it. “The last thing I want is for him to hate me.”

  “Oh quit being such a wuss.” Her gruff voice makes me nervous and I set the glass in my hand on the bar so I won’t drop it. “Life is too short. You have to go after what you want.”

  “But I don’t want to scare him away,” I say as a little voice in the back of my mind suggests that maybe I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake and lose him forever.

  “Yeah, well you don’t have him now. That’s the same as scaring him away.” She raises an eyebrow in my direction, daring me to deny it. “You’ve got nothing to lose except time, so go do it.”

  “There’s so much I don’t know about him, challenges he’s faced that I don’t understand. Besides, life doesn’t magically fall into place just because I want it to.

  “C’mon Sterl ing.”

  “What? I’m not being difficult Lyla. It’s true. He believes he’s unwanted and what do I do? I tell him I don’t want him. That’s it. There are no second chances. I’ve tried and if you think you can do any better, well…”

  “I think a lot of things.”

  “You think I came here for advice?”

  “Sterling you have a lot of options. You have your whole life ahead of you and you’re acting like the world’s backing you into a corner, but it’s not. You’re just backing away.” She looks away and sighs. When she looks back, she brushes her signature curtain of hair away from her eyes, pinning me with her gaze. “What do you want?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well life is about figuring out what you want and then going out there and getting it, but you have to figure out what you want first.”

  “I don’t know,” I practically shout in a loud whisper. “Wait, I do know. I’d like to have Emma back. I’d like a mother who isn’t a drunk. I’d like to say no to Logan and to Brock. I’d like to have a father. Hell. I’d like to win the lottery too.”

  “Oh sweetie. You have to figure out what you want for the future. Does it include Boston or doesn’t it? Don’t waste your time on changing the past or what you think you should do. Decide what you want and go get it.”

  “I guess it’s the lottery then.” I used to think she had all the answers. I’m not so easily impressed anymore.

  “Boston needs a drink. Why don’t you take it over?”

  “What?” I didn’t hear her through the hum of the crowded bar, or maybe the hum of my own thoughts.

  “I think it’s time you brought him that drink and that you do something more than mooning around here missing him.”

  I pick up the glass and head toward the piano without another word. His music has an edge to it as if trying to keep me away, but I’m not swayed. I can understand his anger.

  * * *

  I worried that after leaving him last night he might not show, but he’s here, looking stronger than ever.

  My heart aches for the lost little boy he’d been and the lonely man he’d become. I saw it, never realizing the heartache Boston radiated or the defenses he’d erected to protect himself.

  I’m not surprised that his parents would have a second child to help the first. I would do anything to give Emma a chance at life. She may be my sister, but I cared for her as I would my own. I guess what bothers me most is that his parents either never noticed or didn’t care that Boston felt needed, but never really wanted. If they love him, he doesn’t know it. They were so worried about their first son; they completely justified all they did to their second. It sounds like they still don’t realize the impact of their words, and the consequences of their actions.

  Boston doesn’t see me coming and only looks my way as I arrive at the piano. Light flares in his eyes when he spots me. He masks it fast, but I saw it. The nerves in my stomach relax, melting fingers uncoiling and radiating through me.

  I lean across him to put the glass on a coaster at the other side. I want to taunt him, but Boston has other plans. Foiling the teasing I’d had in mind, he pulls one hand from the keys, continuing to play with the other as he reaches for the glass.

  We touch when he takes it, in a purely accidental slide of fingertips against fingers. I almost jerk away as electricity zings through my hand, but I remain motionless luxuriating in the sensation, the jolt to my heart, then hope for something more.

  I’m not the only one who feels it. Boston missed a note as he pulled the glass away from me.

  Thrilling at the effect I still have on him, I smile, feeling smug as he scrambles to get his fingers back on the keys.

  “We need to talk.” Now even more confident and secure that his interest in me isn’t waning, I make it a statement instead of a question.

  “I’m not sure we do.” He objects with a tight voice and tension holding his back and shoulders rigid.

  “We do, but not here. Can I give you a ride home?”

  The tension melts away. He relaxes as his fingers dance comfortably on the piano keys again.

 
“Sure. We’ll talk then.”

  I beam at him, a bright open smile because he’s giving me a chance. I might have been wary, but I walk away certain that our relationship will be repaired shortly.

  “You look pleased with yourself,” Lyla says as I arrive back at the bar.

  “I guess I am. We’re gonna talk after work when I give him a ride home.”

  “Good for you.”

  I finish my shift, my mind going over and over what I want to say. I clean up after close in record time, grabbing my bag and glancing around the lounge for Boston. Digging for my keys, I head to the door thinking he’s waiting outside as he did every night for several weeks while keeping an eye on me.

  He’s not outside waiting. “What the hell?” I mumble turning to go back, thinking I’d missed him. I didn’t. As I turn, I see a bus stopping at the end of the block and Boston getting on. He’s ditched me.

  Whipping out my phone, I tap out a text in record time. “Coward,” I say. I don’t expect him to answer. He hasn’t answered my texts in weeks, but I hope he reads it.

  After sending, I have regrets. Insulting him, without hearing his side of the story isn’t the best way to get him back. Turning toward my car, I hope the text isn’t a fatal mistake.

  I make it to my car in a daze, still second guessing having sent that text. Unlocking the door and climbing in are a chore. It’s late and I’m tired. I wasn’t tired when we planned to talk tonight, but I am drained and disillusioned now that he’s ditched me.

  Every bit of energy has been sucked from my body. I slouch in my seat. Why doesn’t anyone want me? My anger dissolves into hurt as I bang my forehead against the steering wheel. I want to cry. I want to wallow in my misery, but the tears don’t come. I did this.

  He’s always been such a nice guy. Pulling myself together, I turn the key and shift into gear.

  Driving away from the curb, I wonder if this is a defense mechanism. Maybe it is. Hope rises like a helium balloon. He gets a reprieve by agreeing to talk later, and then later never comes.

  Stopping at a flashing red light, I pull out my phone. “Sorry. That was mean. I’ll give you some space.” After punching in the last letter, I think about work tomorrow. I’ll see him and want to talk.

  I punch send. “I guess I’ll have to leave him alone,” I whisper, dropping my forehead back to the steering wheel and squeezing my eyes shut while the red light flashes.

  * * *

  “I thought you two had worked this out.”

  “I’m sorry Lyla. I gave it a shot and it didn’t work out.”

  “So that’s it? You just throw up your hands in defeat? You guys could have a great life together. You’re going to look back on this and regret that you didn’t try harder.” She shook her head in irritation before turning away, turning her back on me.

  Anger flares. Lyla has always been on my side. She’d was there when my mother went off on a drinking binge or ended up in jail and now she’s turning her back on me? “You’re getting way ahead of yourself Lyla. I’m not ready to build my life around a guy I barely know. That’s crazy.”

  “You didn’t pick him up in a bar last week Sterling. You’ve known each other for a couple months. You’ve grown close. What’s the problem?”

  I don’t have an answer. I fling myself around the end of the bar and hurry for some privacy. Halfway down the hall to the alley, I stop and lean my head back against the painted cinder block wall. “Oh God Lyla. Don’t you think I’ve tried?” I groan into the empty hallway.

  My knees give way and I sink to the floor, my back sliding along the wall until I’m huddled on the ground, my face buried in my knees.

  “Sterling? Are you okay?”

  I gulp, frantic for composure. “I’m fine.” My words sound hollow, but I pray that he’ll take them at face value.

  “Let me help you up.”

  I look up from under my brows, my chin still buried by my knees. His hand wavers before my face. I don’t take it.

  He drops his hand back to his side. “I saw you run away. Are you okay?”

  “I thought I’d try something different this time.”

  “Huh?”

  “I always stay. I always deal with the aftermath, pick up the pieces. Does that sound cliché?”

  “No. Well maybe, but no.”

  “This time I thought I’d try something different. I’d try running.”

  “Did it work?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No. Now I have to go back, make amends, apologize to Lyla.” I looked up again, resting my head back against the wall, no longer hiding, maybe a little defiant. “Apologize to you.”

  “Huh.”

  “You should try it sometime.”

  “Apologizing?”

  “No, staying.”

  “Staying?” He looks perplexed. I guess I’m not making sense.

  “You’re always running and it never gets you anywhere. Maybe you should try staying.”

  Confusion hovers over his face like a mask. I push to my feet to go back to work not sure if he understands anything I’ve said. I’m not sure I understand.

  Boston grabs my arm as I pass. “And you should run sometimes too. Not all the time, just when you need to. Then come back. Don’t stay away forever like I did.”

  I continued back to work, his words weighing heavy on my mind.

  * * *

  The roads are empty as we drive away from work. Clean up took forever after Boston asked for a ride. Every time I tried to leave, Lyla found something new for me to do or something I’d missed. In reality I finished everything in only thirty minutes while Boston waited patiently, sitting near the door, not running. Could it be that simple?

  Now, riding in the dark, I sneak a peek sideways. His eyes are looking forward instead of meeting mine. He says, “I’ll try.”

  “Try what?”

  “Try staying.” I smile into the dark at his words, a tentative hopeful smile. “You’re right Sterling. I always run.”

  “Just don’t be me. I may stay,” I confess, “but I close everyone out, except when I ran from whatever this is happening between us.”

  “I noticed.” His fingers lace with mine and clench holding tight. I can feel the tension coiling in his arm as we share the armrest between us.

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “Just don’t tell me you’re leaving me again.” His voice is rough and tense.

  “No. That’s not it.” He relaxes some, but not completely. “I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past few weeks.” My words stumble to a halt as I stop for a flashing red light, not sure how to say this.

  “Whatever it is we can deal with it, as long as we both know what it is.” His voice is stronger, no longer tense as his fingers press mine, comforting and reassuring.

  “I’m afraid.” I’m embarrassed too, hearing the words, hearing how silly I sound.

  “I’m afraid too.” He squeezes my hand again and I pull away.

  “I don’t know how to do this, to share my life with another person. I don’t know how to be a partner. I don’t know how to do it.”

  “Sterling,” he sighs.

  “This is who I am and I’m not good at this.” I gesture from me to him.

  “Yep. You suck at it,” he says. I can see a flash of white from his teeth as he smiles into the dark. “You’re going to need a lot of practice.”

  “I don’t need practice.” My growing irritation makes me snap at his jest.

  Boston shakes his head, backtracking. “Of course not.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’ve had practice and I’m not good at this. I want to be, but what if I can’t do this? What do we do then?”

  “Maybe you haven’t practiced with the right guy.” His eyebrow lifts half mocking, half questioning. “You’re going to get good at this. We’ll get good at it together.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do.”

  “Don’t make
it sound like it’s nothing. I’m serious.”

  “You can do this too Sterling.”

  “What if I can’t?” I turn to Boston, the red still flashing before us.

  “You can. We’ll figure it out.”

  Taking a deep breath, I sigh feeling my shoulders relax and lower. Dropping my head forward, I press a thumb and finger into my eyes, pushing hard to release the tension. I can’t argue anymore. I’m tired. Besides, I don’t want to argue. I want to grab hold and never let go.

  I pull through the flashing light. “My dad left before I was born and my mom left over and over and over again. Hell, even her husbands left.”

  “Where’d that leave you?”

  “I lived with Lyla most of my life because my mother couldn’t stop drinking and driving.”

  “You know my parents didn’t really want me?”

  “Yeah, the past sucks. It’s like being chased by a giant black bear and we can’t get away because we keep looking back over our shoulder.”

  “Either that or we’re running from something that’s not chasing us, ending up so far away that we can never go back.”

  “Good thing we don’t live there anymore,” I say into the dark world beyond my windshield, only shiny bits of wet blacktop reflecting my headlights as blocks roll away like time passing to the hum of my tires.

  “Parents suck, but you know when I said I’ve had practice I meant with guys, right?”

  “Right. Guys can be assholes. You don’t need to be specific.”

  “I caught my first boyfriend in bed with my mother. She was drunk. He wasn’t.”

  “Everyone sucks. Logan, right?”

  “Yeah. I caught him, bare ass in the air and pants around his ankles with my mother.”

  “I’m sorry Sterling. We’re not all like that.”

  “She didn’t remember.”

  “Maybe it’s better that way.”

  “Maybe. Then there’s Brock. He’s …

  “Abusive?” Boston interrupts.

  Shocked that he guessed when I’d never said anything, I finish parking in my lot before turning to him, surprise in my voice. “How did you know?”