Chasing Peace

by Foxx, Gloria

  “I suppose.” I felt bad now that I’d even sent them. “I could have brought her to visit.”

  “You know that’s no place for a baby Sterling.” She unclenched her fists and took a calm fortifying sip of coffee. “Anyway, I’m sorry I abandoned her and I’m sorry I abandoned you. I’m sorry that I neglected my precious little girls while looking at life through the bottom of a bottle.”

  “You’re forgiven mom. I’d like to believe that this is a turning point, but you know it’ll take more than just today, more than just asking for forgiveness, right?”

  “I know. I have a lot to make up for.”

  “Maybe I can understand it just a little bit.”

  “I doubt it.” She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders, a white line forming around her lips.

  “I’m seeing someone mom.”

  “I’m so happy for you Sterling.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. It felt like a mother daughter relationship should feel. At least I think it did.

  “Well we had some trouble a few weeks back,” I continue, “and I found vodka numbed the pain.”

  “Oh no Sterling, please don’t do that. The numbness doesn’t last and then you’re left chasing peace and never finding it.”

  “I saw that after only a few days, so I stopped. It helped that your example showed where I might be going.” I chuckle, not sure if I’m laughing or holding back a sob.

  She laughed a dry bark of a sound. “Well I’m glad I’ve taught you something, however unintended.”

  “I’ve learned a lot from you mom.”

  “Yeah, a lot of what not to do.”

  “You’ve taught me that running doesn’t work. I learned to stay.”

  “Thank God for that, but don’t feel like you always have to stay. Sometimes you need to run to protect yourself.”

  “I tried that mom. It’s when I tried drinking.”

  “Is he good to you?”

  “Boston is the best. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

  “Then you don’t need to run, but watch out for the ones who aren’t good and be prepared.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something Mom?”

  “I’m trying to tell you that when you’re under attack you need to run. When you run, you survive.”

  “We’re not talking about attack like war here are we? You mean running from our personal demons, right?”

  “Sometimes they’re one and the same Sterling.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t really get it beyond the fact that she’s running from something.

  “I have to go now.”

  I’m not sure where she has to go. She doesn’t have a job or obligations beyond meetings and curfew at the halfway house, which is hours away yet. Maybe she’s running even now.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  She has her remaining cup of coffee in hand and she lifts it toward me as if she’s going to make a toast. She backs away from the table. I curl the corner of my lip as I picture her toasting to good health and happy endings and unicorns and rainbows.

  “Yeah, tomorrow,” she says with a blank look on her face. She looks lost like she no longer knows what’s happening now, let alone tomorrow.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  “Just remember Sterling, sometimes you have to run.” She turned and walked away, not running, but not staying either.

  I frown wondering what I said or what came into her mind. I can only imagine my mother is struggling with demons and I pray that she’ll find peace.

  * * *

  Today must me the day for coffee shops. It’s freezing, with small snowflakes floating about, but not really adding to the snow already on the ground. Still, it’ll be a white Christmas this year.

  As I trudge through the cold I fantasize about the heat that’ll be radiating from the fieldstone fireplace at the sandwich shop. The large rounded stones in peach and burgundy and tan and chocolate will be warmed by flickering orange and blue flames.

  Bundled for warmth, I never felt the vibrations coming from my phone. I barely heard the ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Detective Morgan calling for Sterling Adams.”

  “I’m Sterling.” I frown, my eyebrows pulling together and creating furrows above my nose.

  “We have a potential suspect in your case and I’d like to bring by some photos so you can take a look. I’m coming to campus. Where can I find you?”

  “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. I didn’t see who drugged me and I remember almost nothing from that evening.”

  “You might be surprised by how much victims remember. Will you take a look at the photos?” he asked and continued without stopping. “We’ve found other victims and you might be able to help them too.”

  “I suppose.” I fume at his tactics, playing on my sense of responsibility. “I’m meeting some friends at the sandwich shop on the corner of Wright and sixth. Can you meet me there?”

  “See you in a few minutes.”

  I click off my phone, shoving it into my pocket with jerky frustrated movements. I should want to help find this creep, but I’m selfish, my focus on Emma right now.

  At the sandwich shop, I find an empty table near the fireplace and shrug out of my jacket letting the heat sink in as I watch the door. Annie and Boston arrived together, laughing, her cheeks rosy, her nose kissed with cold. Boston holds the door for her, smiling down into her upturned face. It’s good that my two favorite people in this world like each other.

  Boston sees me waving and smiles in my direction. It’s a different smile than he shared with Annie. It’s warm and intimate like he has a secret and I’m the only one he’s told. My cheeks flush as I smile back, warm now and it has nothing to do with the fire.

  “Hi gorgeous, mind if we join you?” He leans into me and kisses my temple, his lips clinging, breath floating across my cheek. I laugh instead of answering, embarrassed, but also flattered.

  Pulling out the chair across the square table for Annie, Boston makes sure she’s seated before moving one of the side chairs to the corner where he can sit, closer to me.

  “What? I showered this morning.”

  I burst out laughing at Annie’s indignant tone.

  “I’m just staking my claim,” he says, leaning back, one ankle resting on the other knee, his arm draped on the back of my chair.

  “A detective’s meeting me here.” It popped out of my mouth, changing the subject as quickly as an interception in a football game.

  Annie looked puzzled for a moment. “About Emma?”

  “No, about the guy who drugged me. They want me to look at some photos.” Boston’s fingers tracing back and forth across my shoulder stopped stroking. They clutched with question.

  “You were drugged?” He meets my eyes.

  “Yeah, but this feels like a distraction. I’ve been concentrating on Emma, making peace with all that’s happened and now I have something else to deal with. To tell the truth, I’d almost forgotten.”

  Boston waved his arm and my eyes zeroed in on the door. He looked like a detective. His long coat lent credence to his occupation, but his manner, commanding and brusque told even more of the story.

  He moved fast in our direction, skirting chairs, tables and other students, his path not direct, but his intent clear.

  “Sterling Adams?”

  “Yes?” I gulp.

  “Detective Morgan. We talked a few minutes ago. Can you look at pictures now?”

  “Yes.” I stutter as if in trouble, my eyes glued to the bristle of his moustache exactly the width of his lips.

  He steps between me and the fire, blocking the heat. He looks at Boston, one eyebrow raised. “Would you mind stepping back? We don’t want her identification influenced by anyone else.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  Detective Morgan waited until Boston stood across the table, hands on the back of Annie’s chair before handing me a tablet. I paged through three photos shaking my head
no. “I didn’t see who did it. I don’t even know what happened.”

  “Please look at them all.” His stern voice set me back to work paging through five more photos.

  “Sorry. I don’t recognize anyone.”

  “You’re sure?”

  My shoulders slump as I hand back the tablet. “I’m sure.” It’s disheartening to believe that someone could do this and I’m no help at all.

  “Do you want us to look?” Boston asks. “We were both there that night,”

  “Did you fill out witness statements?”

  “I did,” Annie raised her hand as if identifying herself in class.

  “Have a seat sir.”

  Failure hung about me like fog as Boston returned to the chair next to mine. “Don’t worry about it,” he said squeezing my knee.

  Detective Morgan handed Annie the tablet. “We were together all night until she disappeared,” she said, flicking through the photos, her focus indicating her intent to identify the guy.

  “Him!”

  “You saw him put something in her drink?”

  “Actually, he came up behind and wrapped his arms around her. He sloshed her drink and splattered our feet.”

  “Okay. Keep looking.” The detective pulled out a small notebook and began writing. “Recognize anyone else?”

  Annie handed the tablet back. “No, just him.”

  “Okay.” He turned to Boston. “You weren’t there?”

  “I attended the party, but didn’t see Sterling until after … after she was … ahh ... drugged. Annie found me when she disappeared.”

  “Can you take a look too?”

  “Sure.”

  Boston started to move, but the detective handed him the tablet, apparently not concerned about my influence. I watched as he paged through the faces, all now familiar to me, until he stopped. “I saw this guy.”

  The detective took his name and made a note in his book. “Okay. Where did you see him?”

  “When Annie tracked me down, we went looking for Sterling. I passed him on the back stairs. He was coming down while I headed up.”

  “So you saw him coming from the attic?”

  “Maybe, but I didn’t actually see him leave the attic. I searched the upstairs first before going to the attic.”

  “What made you think to check the attic?”

  “I opened all the doors in the house until I found her.”

  “You found her? Why didn’t you report this sooner?”

  Boston’s shoulders slumped and the muscle along the side of his jaw jumped as he gritted his teeth. “Sterling and I weren’t talking so I didn’t know they filed a report. I didn’t even know she’d been drugged until now. I thought she had too much to drink.”

  “All right. Do you recognize anyone else?” Boston finished looking, shaking his head no as he returned the tablet. “I’ll be in touch if we need anything else.” The detective handed Boston a card.

  “So that’s the guy?” I asked, with no recollection beyond the photo Boston identified.

  “He’s a person of interest. I can’t tell you anymore than that about an ongoing investigation.” He tucked his notebook and the tablet inside his coat, turning to go. “Thanks for your time.”

  We are all quiet for a moment after Detective Morgan left. “Wow,” Annie exhales. “That’s strange, almost surreal.”

  “So that’s maybe not the guy?” I ask, uncertain about whether they identified the right guy or not.

  “Maybe he’s been picked up for something or they’re suspicious and they’re hoping to connect him to an existing case,” says Annie.

  “So did you guys just connect him?”

  Annie tries to reassure. I think maybe, but they don’t like to share their theories.”

  “That sounds about right. I don’t know anything about the case they have against Brock.”

  “Okay, enough of this legal mumbo jumbo,” Annie declares. “I want the real scoop.”

  I shrug, sipping my coffee. “I don’t have any more scoop.”

  “Now that you’ve moved back into your bedroom, is Boston moving in?” She looked from me to him and back again, looking like a parent trying to get the truth from a recalcitrant child.

  I stare at her, my eyes round, my mouth hanging open like a fish attempting to find air without water.

  Boston squeezes my knee and winks before turning his attention to Annie. “You don’t ask for much do you?”

  “Hey, you guys are getting along great and you’re not exactly a dorm kind of guy. It’s inevitable.”

  She shrugged off the accusation with ease.

  “I’m enjoying my independence right now,” I respond, recognizing the truth in my statement only as it came out of my mouth. “I’ve never really lived alone.”

  Warmth heats my cheeks as I turn to Boston, almost forgetting Annie across the table. “I hope you don’t mind?” I worry for a moment that he might because as a couple, we’re supposed to talk about this stuff.

  He crosses an ankle over his knee and leans toward me, trapping my hands in his, capturing my eyes with his gaze, drawing me in. “We’ll talk about moving in together when we’re ready.” He spoke in a whisper, sharing a secret meant only for me.

  Chapter 26

  “All set for tomorrow?” He asks with an arched eyebrow, turning me toward him as he reaches over my shoulder to drop the dishcloth into the sink.

  Boston cleared the table while I loaded the dishwasher. He’d made jarred spaghetti and I tossed a salad and slathered garlic butter onto French bread. It seemed so ordinary yet special too.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” His fingers flex into my hips in a clench that feels reassuring.

  He leans into me pressing me against the counter while ducking his head to mine and dropping a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. “It’s nice to know that guy from the party has been identified,” he says as if we’re discussing our day.

  “It’s one less thing to stress about.” I don’t admit to the distress about tomorrow that hovers around the edges, threatening unsuccessfully to overwhelm me. Just a month ago I would have been hiding, trying to avoid everyone associated with my past.

  “Maybe this will help.” Boston shoves his hand into his front pocket. I can feel his fingers curl against my hip. When they uncurl in front of me, a glossy teal blue box wrapped with a shiny white fabric ribbon nestles into his palm in offering.

  I don’t want it. I’m not ready for a bigger commitment. I lower my eyelids, dropping my chin to my chest to hide the doubt in my eyes. I may not be ready, but that doesn’t mean I want him to see my doubt. I just need more time.

  “Go ahead. Take a look. If you’re not ready yet, it can wait.”

  Even when I hide my eyes, Boston understands me.

  Looking up at him from under a fringe of eyelashes, hope springs, lighting my eyes and lifting the corner of my mouth in a tentative curl.

  “No pressure?” This time I raise an eyebrow in question.

  “No pressure.”

  My fingers shake with nerves and anxiety as I reach for the box. I knew it wouldn’t jump at me or bite, so I couldn’t quite fathom what caused my tension. My fingers hover, I can’t pick it up. Uncertainty about where we’re going holds me hostage.

  Leaving it sit on his palm, I pull at the loose ends of the ribbon. It wilts away like a discarded negligee.

  The fingers of my free hand curl around Boston’s thumb, as if holding his palm steady while I move to lift the lid on the box. Instead, he holds me steady. My nails sink into the thick pad at the base of his thumb when I reveal the tiny white leather jewel box inside.

  “Let me help,” he says. He flips his palm, excitement making his movements quick and precise as he dumps the white box into his free hand, discarding the blue box and ribbon on the counter.

  I want this relationship to continue, but he’s moving too fast. I’m not ready. “Oh God Boston, I’m not ready.” I expect him to drop to one knee at any mo
ment.

  “You don’t have to wear it if it’s too soon,” he reassures again, his eyes gleaming, a half smile hovering around his mouth.

  My eyes glue to his, my heart stops beating and I forget to breathe as he pries the hinged lid open with a tiny squeak. I can’t look. I’m not ready to say yes and I don’t want to say no. Instead I whisper, “Oh God.” I drag in a breath, my eyes slamming closed as if I can deny the inevitable.

  “No pressure Sterling.”

  I pause, eyes still closed, hoping that what I can’t see doesn’t exist, just like the imagined monsters in the closet when I was a child.

  “Open your eyes. You’ll like it. I promise.”

  His voice calm and confident bolsters my courage and I lift my eyelids, not sure where to focus or what I’m seeing. Confused, I raise my eyes back to Boston.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful, Boston.” I jump at him, trapping his arm between us, almost crushing the tiny box as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, reveling in the lightness that comes when dread dissolves. “I didn’t understand,” I gasp on a half sob of relief. “I thought you were pushing me.”

  “It’s so you never forget.”

  My legs slide down the outside of his thighs, my toes not quite reaching the ground. Boston holds me with only one hand. He’d leaned into me when I jumped, pressing my butt against the counter. I stay there, pulling back a bit so I can see his eyes again.

  “Oh, I’ll never forget.” I study the tiny little footprint sculpted in platinum and nestled among satin lining the box.

  “Of course you’ll never forget Emma.”

  I stroke a finger across the charm dangling from a fragile chain.

  He continues, “This is a reminder Sterling that it’s possible to move out of the darkness and into the light. It’s to help you remember the good instead of dwelling on the bad. It’s proof of how strong you can be, especially when there’s no strength left.”

  “It’s perfect,” I breathe. “I love it.” I smile at him, awash with light. “I think I love you too.” I pause, meeting his eyes with uncertainty, no longer uncomfortable that he might see how I feel. “Is this what love feels like?”