by J. M. Paul
He looked at me, and I gave him what I thought was an encouraging expression. I wanted him to keep going. A selfish part of me wanted to know everything about Bax.
“When I was in the system, foster parents were allowed to have six kids to a home. I’m not sure if that’s still the case, but it sucked when I was the sixth kid intruding into the click of four guys and one rough-looking girl. I was also the youngest, so you can imagine the crap I had to take. I tried to deal, but when I showed up with a name like Noah, was scrawny, and had a dimple…well, I got picked on a lot. All six of us had to sleep in the basement, so there was no privacy and no escaping. We were given mattresses on the cold floor and something that was supposed to pass as food, if we were lucky.” He shook his head.
“Anyway, I knew I had to toughen up, or I wouldn’t make it anywhere long. So, I started running and doing push-ups, pull-ups, or whatever I could to gain strength and muscle. It was a slow process, but I eventually started to see improvements. I was finally able to throw a punch that had some impact, and I learned to defend myself”—he gave me a pointed look—“but I still had a long ways to go. Things didn’t really get better for me until my junior year of high school. I was tossed around to a couple of different foster parents by then, but luckily, I stayed in the same school district.” He scratched his chin.
“After school, I would stay after to work out at the gym, and I made some friends. They were into street fighting, and I tagged along. At first, I was only a spectator, but I had really bulked up, and I knew I could take on a lot of the guys. The money was beyond tempting since I had little to none back then, so by chance, I entered a fight one night and won.” He lifted the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe the perspiration off his face.
“I became a regular fighter after that. It’s where I picked up the shortened version of my last name Baxley, and it stuck. When my housemates learned I was no longer Noah but the fighter Bax-a-Million everyone whispered about in the hallways at school, things drastically changed for me. I wouldn’t say it was for the better, but at least I wasn’t getting threatened anymore.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
“Yeah. As soon as I graduated and turned eighteen, I packed up my belongings and jetted without so much as a word. Gram had left me a trust, and I was able to access it once I turned eighteen. There were a few dark months where I messed around with drugs and was in situations I shouldn’t have been in until I realized I was following in my mother’s footsteps. I pulled it together pretty quickly after that and applied to several colleges. I was accepted to them all.” A cocky smile hinted on his lips. “Out of all the shit I had done and been through, at least I was smart enough to get good grades.” He shrugged again. “School was always really easy for me.”
“Lucky. I like school, but it’s never come easy.” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear that the wind had loosened from my ponytail.
“Yeah, well, I guess we can’t all be gifted.” He bumped my shoulder with his.
“Jackhole,” I grumbled in humor.
Bax chuckled at my made-up swearword and then exhaled. “Okay, enough story time with Bax. What about you? Tell me something about yourself.”
My heart started to pound, and my hands grew clammy, but it had nothing to do with the humidity. I reached for my necklace, only to once again find it missing. Instead, I twisted the silver band on my left middle finger and then picked at the chipped black polish on my nails.
“Wh-what do you want to know?” I had already told him so much.
“Tell me about your first kiss.” He smiled mischievously.
“My first kiss?” My voice cracked on the last word.
“Yeah. Who was it with? How old were you? Was it good or bad?” He studied my face while I tried to prevent myself from sweating.
I didn’t want to tell him about my first kiss with Jarrod. It was personal and private and special. But Bax had shared so much of himself with me. The least I could do was tell him about an innocent kiss that had happened years ago.
“It was with my boyfriend, Jarrod. Well, he wasn’t my boyfriend at the time.”
My lips tipped slightly at the memory of Jarrod grabbing my face, down by the pond, and plastering his stiff mouth against mine. His eagerness had hurt my lip, but once I’d gotten over the shock of my best friend putting his mouth on mine and realized it wasn’t gross, I’d kissed him back. We had become even more inseparable after that, and the next week, he’d asked me to go steady.
Bax’s eyebrows rose. “Ah, so it was good enough that he became boyfriend material, huh? You’re lucky. Just like how first-time sex experiences can be horrible, first kisses can be just as bad.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Mine was a disaster. All fumbling hands, overly anxious tongues, and too much saliva.” He shivered.
“Was she your girlfriend?” I wasn’t sure why I cared.
A smirk hinted on his lips. “No. I wasn’t into commitment back then.”
“And you are now?”
Bax studied me before slowly answering, “I think I could be.”
“What about your kind-of girlfriend? The girl on the phone at the bar, was that her? I’ve noticed you texting and talking with someone a lot, and I just thought…” I shrugged.
Why am I pushing this subject? And why am I airing the fact that I’ve watched Bax closely enough to know what he does?
Bax tugged his ear. “Uh, we were sort of dating, but recently, I officially broke things off with her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Liar.
“Things weren’t that serious or great between us. And being on the road…it was hard to keep up pretenses that everything was good, ya know?”
I wouldn’t know, but I nodded anyhow.
An unmistakable rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, and Bax and I looked toward the sky. The edge of some darker clouds started to peek around the lining trees, but nothing looked threatening.
We were quiet for a long time when Bax broke the silence with, “So, if Jarrod was your first kiss, was he your first…sexual partner?”
My head jerked back, and I blinked at Bax in surprise. Personal much?
As a rule, I never talked about anything personal—ever—but I found myself wanting to tell someone something about my life, to have a connection that ran deeper than the surface.
With that realization, I found myself saying, “No. Jarrod and I were going to wait until we were married.”
“What?” Bax choked before he pulled himself together. “I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t think anyone did that anymore.”
“Yeah, well”—I shrugged—“little good it did us. He was taken away from me before we could find out if waiting was possible.”
My fingers twisted the purity ring I still wore on my finger—the one that was a smaller version of the ring I used to wear on a necklace. It was Jarrod’s and my promise to each other, and that virtue had been taken away by my stupidity.
Bax’s hand reached for mine, and he studied the silver Claddagh band Jarrod had purchased for me.
Jarrod had been so sweet the day he gave it to me—his shy smile with his blue eyes sparkling. My whole world used to center around him and my family until the day it’d all shattered.
The pain swirled and pinged around my chest, but the feeling of Bax’s hand on mine helped ease the overwhelming sorrow. It was still there, filling the cracks of my core, but it seemed almost bearable.
Bax’s eyes moved up to my neck where the necklace holding Jarrod’s ring used to lay, and then his gaze met mine. A sad smile graced Bax’s lips.
We listened to the wind blow through the trees—leaving dust, trash, and leaves swirling in its wake—as thunder grew more frequent and louder. The sky was overtaken by clouds, which caused the sun to take a nap while Mother Nature did her thing.
The stormy weather perfectly suited my mood, and the feeling between me and Bax changed with the atmosphere.
“Have you ever dated anyone else after Jarrod?�
�� Bax’s face was raised to the sky, watching the clouds roll and swirl.
It hadn’t started raining, but I could feel and smell the moisture in the air.
I shook my head, but realizing he wasn’t watching me, I said, “No.”
“So, you’re still a virgin?” When he swung his attention in my direction, disbelief was written on his features. Then, his face slackened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
Even though he’d apologized, I could see the curiosity still hanging in his eyes.
It was an intruding question—one not asked unless by a close friend, and even then, it was invasive. But again, I found myself wanting to open up to Bax. I craved the chance for someone to know me—the real me, not the facade I wore. There was a completely different girl under the black clothing, dark makeup, dyed hair, and attitude. I had taken on the disguise not long after my family was killed. Back then, my normal appearance had garnered too much attention, and I had thought, if I modified it to make myself less attractive, then maybe it would change the unwanted interest it had once drawn.
That hadn’t been the case.
I had since learned that it didn’t matter how I altered my looks. The unwelcome attention was after me as a person to make me pay for the sins he thought I had cast.
But how do I answer Bax’s question?
Physically, I wasn’t a virgin—my body was anything but innocent—but emotionally, I was. It didn’t make sense, but it was the only way I could describe it.
Instead of trying to explain my complex situation, I went with the physical truth because, when it came down to it, that was what Bax was asking. If I consulted a doctor, there was no way they would consider me untouched, so that was my reality.
“No, I’m not a virgin.” I choked on the words. It felt as if they were lodged in my throat like a lie.
Bax’s eyebrows pinched together, and I could feel his brain spinning.
“But I thought…if you were waiting and you haven’t dated anyone else after Jarrod…I don’t get it.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I remained mute. Bax could draw his own conclusions because I wasn’t ready to lay everything on the line. Once I did, he would know what an awful person I was, and there would be no coming back from that fact.
“Who have you been with? Who took your virginity?”
The question sat between us like a giant weight.
I didn’t have to tell him anything. It wasn’t like I owed him answers, but again, I had a nagging feeling to give someone at least a small piece of me. If he only knew a portion of the real story, then maybe it would be enough to help me move beyond what it had made me become. Maybe releasing some of the steam brewing inside me would be the first step toward healing.
“It was Joel,” I said aloud, a piece of me fracturing even further.
Joel didn’t deserve to have that precious aspect of me. It had been meant for someone I could trust, covet, and love. It was supposed to be a monumental moment, special—not something ripped from me out of shame, leaving me to feel dirty, rotted, and soiled.
“I thought you despised him.” Bax cocked his head in curiosity.
“I do.”
“You do,” Bax repeated as he rubbed his forehead. “So then, I take it, you liked him at some point?”
“No, never.” I briskly shook my head.
“I…don’t understand.” Just as he said it, a loud boom of thunder vibrated around us.
I lifted my eyes toward the sky. “It looks like we might get a storm after all.”
A few sprinkles hit my face before Bax said my name to get my attention. When I turned toward him, he was watching me with concern.
“Why did you give Joel your virginity if you couldn’t stand the guy?”
“I’m not sure I gave it to him.” The words were out before I could stop them.
What is wrong with me? Why can’t I control my tongue when I’m around him?
Bax’s superpower had to be the ability to make people talk and say things they shouldn’t say. I’d definitely have to watch myself a lot better around him.
Bax’s mouth opened, but before anything came out, the back door to the Laundromat swung open.
“Hey, guys! Might want to come in and take cover.” Milo eyed the clouds overhead. “We’re under a tornado warning.”
Just as he finished, the sirens sounded, and the wind picked up, blowing the trees so that they looked like they would snap in half. Dirt, leaves, and debris swept around, circling us.
Bax grabbed my hand, pulling us toward the entrance. Before we entered, he turned toward me and said, “We’re not done with this conversation.” He then pushed me into the building, and the wind slammed the door behind us.
It looked like we would be in for a rough ride.
The structure shook, and the ceiling vibrated. I could hear debris hitting the outside walls. Glass shattered, and something thumped loudly out front. I imagined the large window of the Laundromat was smashed.
Everyone—employees and customers—were huddled in the cramped, stuffy inner office of the building. We were all hunched on our knees, leaning forward toward the walls, and covering our heads with our arms—exactly like we had been taught in elementary school.
Every precaution was taken to ensure our safety, but when it came down to it, if we were in the line of an actual tornado, we would die in this rickety building.
It was what I deserved—slowly dying a painful death by a catapulting piece of wood or a car landing on me—but the good people surrounding me didn’t deserve to give their lives for my sins. If this were fate coming back to collect the debt it was owed, then I hoped fate would be smart enough to differentiate the one bad seed—me—among all the good.
A hand grasped my thigh, causing my eyelids to pop open in awareness. When I turned my head, my eyes locked with Bax’s. They were the color of whiskey mixed with jade, and they were trying to communicate something I couldn’t understand. My mind was too busy with trying to dissuade the Grim Reaper from stealing the bright white spots of life sitting around me and instead taking my blackened soul with a twisting cloud of anger.
I was sandwiched between Bax on my left and Carly on my right with Milo next to her. Other patrons we didn’t know lined the walls to our sides and back.
Someone against the wall behind us kept screaming, “Oh God, oh God, we’re gonna die!”
A lady next to Milo was holding a wailing child as the structure continued to shake and creak around us.
Sweat slowly trailed from my temple down to my cheek and to my jaw before dripping to land on Bax’s hand gripping my leg. My eyes perused over Bax’s face that was red and shiny with perspiration. With so many of us in this tiny room, the temperature had reached sweltering. The power had been knocked out, and the lack of airflow mixed with the humid afternoon temperature had made it almost unbearable.
“I’m sorry,” I said just loud enough for Bax to hear over the rattling building and howls from the frightened people around us.
“For what?” I read Bax’s lips. It was too loud to hear him.
I wasn’t sure how to explain what I was sorry for—or if I even knew—but before I could figure it out, Mother Nature took the situation into her own hands.
It sounded like a freight train was pounding its way around and possibly through us. I grabbed Bax’s hand when the roof was suddenly ripped from the edifice, and we were pelted with chilly rain, hail, and small debris. Wind whipped around us, causing the stack of papers on the desk to swirl in a sea of white. The now-wet strands of my black hair slapped against my face, and the contrast of black against the white whirling paper reminded me of my earlier thought. Death was here to take payment of my sins, and the innocent bystanders around me were going to be collateral damage.
After the ceiling had been torn off, things happened in a blur of snippets. It felt like I was in a horror movie where everything sped up and slowed down at the same time.
I heard frantic
voices over the thundering noise around us, but I wasn’t sure which direction it was coming from. Bax’s hand clutched mine, and I grasped it so tightly that I thought our bones would break. We focused on each other, our expressions written with panic. A sharp object grazed my arm, and I cried out in pain before I was wrenched from Bax’s hold. The look on his face as we lost connection told me I would never see him again.
This is it. I’m going to die to pay for all the wrongs I did to my family and Jarrod.
The sorrow sobbed through my head as I was lifted and thrown into the air. I had always wanted to fly but not in that capacity.
A blur of scared faces, rubble, white paper, clothes, and unrecognizable objects spun around me. I thought I should be terrified, and I guessed I was, but I almost took comfort in knowing that I was going to see my loved ones again.
After what seemed like an eternity and seconds combined, I was hurled to the ground and landed with a thump. A part of me thought I should feel pain, discomfort, something unmanageable, but all I felt was nothing.
Maybe this is heaven.
Being numb brought comfort, and heaven was the place of eternal bliss.
When a bright light assaulted my eyes, I closed my lids, taking peace in letting go, and I followed the calling rays into the afterlife.
I hurt everywhere.
My head. My arms. My legs. My back. My butt. It all throbbed.
If I swore, I would cuss out every single bone, muscle, and cell that composed my body.
But I’m in heaven, and things aren’t supposed to hurt in paradise.
So, why am I in pain?
I pried my dry eyelids open and searched for my mom, dad, Justice, Jarrod, my grandparents, or my guardian angel. All I saw was matted grass, mud, cement, sporadic articles of clothing, and rubbish.
I’ve never heard about this part of heaven…