Low Sided

by A. J. Downey

  Dear Mace,

  You weren’t lying when you said you would be in touch. I must admit, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it was nice. I keep staring at your flowers. They’re beautiful and smell wonderful. You’re always welcome at my door for a cup of tea and it is quite cold, isn’t it?

  I’m not sure what else to write. Everything seems so superficial and trite, to be honest. I was surprised to find I miss having you here. I enjoyed our talks and listening to you and the apartment. I don’t know, it was never really vibrant to begin with, but it seems even less so after you’ve been and gone. Colder and emptier… that also might be because my heat broke last night, and I may just be projecting or something.

  Don’t worry. The landlord swears that problem will be fixed straight away. I admit I’m almost afraid to see what he comes up with, but it will likely be fixed before you get this. At least, I hope so.

  Fuck. This all feels so small… so I don’t know. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to commit some of my deepest darkest secrets to paper, but I feel like you would be the last person to judge me on any of it and that’s nice. I’m afraid I’m a little low on trust. I have reasons for that, good ones, I promise, but that’s hardly fair to you, is it?

  I so desperately want to talk to someone, need to, but you… I feel like I would be taking advantage. You don’t owe me anything. You really don’t. I would have done what I did for anyone. Really. I’m sorry it happened to you. You’re not at all what you seem, and it boggles the mind somewhat.

  I guess I’m confused about a lot of things, but I don’t want to be rude and I’m already afraid I sound judgmental.

  Your flowers are so beautiful.

  I took a walk this summer and picked this fern, pressing it between the pages of the notebook I went to get this paper out of. It’s dry, and brittle and a little broken, like me. I thought maybe it would be a fair trade and a decent reminder.

  I think about you too. A lot. I miss having someone to come home to – and I know that sounds more than a little intense, and crazy, but it’s true.

  I guess I hadn’t realized how lonely I’d gotten.

  Anyway, I hope you’re healing is going well. Please take care.

  Raven

  I sighed, thinking, reading, and re-reading every word to wring every bit of nuance and subtext I could out of them.

  What I saw in her looping handwriting was a girl who’d once been extroverted, a people person, likely even a people pleaser until that dickhead had come along and low sided her, like I’d been low sided in her fucking bar by those frat boys.

  She was no shrinking violet, or hadn’t been until something so bad, so heinous, had come along and made her afraid and dulled her shine.

  That sparkle was still in there, though. Underneath. I’d glimpsed it a few times with her sharp wit and humor. She’d put me back together, and like fuck I didn’t owe her. It was just going to take some serious tender-loving care to fit her broken pieces together. Like that pottery thing Aspen had shown me. Where you mended the broken pieces with silver or gold. The piece was never the same, but there was a new wild beauty in the cracks and breaks to it.

  I could see that for Raven, but this wasn’t a sprint. This wasn’t some wrapped ribs and healed bones. This was something else entirely, and I had to move carefully. I didn’t want to end up doing more harm than good. I already felt guilty as fuck going to Kim. Like I was sneaking around behind Raven’s back. I mean, I was, and it was a shitty fucking thing to do, but was it shittier than opening up wounds barely healed in her soul? Pouring in the salt of memory and watching her mind burn?

  I’d been around for guys melting the fuck down over less and it wasn’t pretty. She was something else, an iron core that one.

  I sat up and turned on the lantern on the overturned crate next to me, pulling the spiral notebook and pen I’d bought to scratch things down and giving it some new life.

  Dear Raven,

  Stop. Just breathe, woman. Before you read the rest of this, go take yourself a hot shower and let the water beat on your back for a while. Find your most comfortable house clothes, make a hot cup of tea, and get cozy. Do that for me and then settle in.

  I’m here to listen to or read whatever you want to tell me. I like listening to you. Could do it for hours, actually. I feel like I can tell you anything – everything. You’re a comfortable presence, whether at my side or in my mind. Soothing like. I don’t get that feeling nearly often enough.

  I learned some things when I was locked up. Patience, for one thing, and that me getting pissed off and shit wasn’t hurting anyone but me. Me and the club. Kind of fucked them over, me being locked up for a couple years like that.

  You know why I was in your bar that night?

  I was jealous. Of my brothers. A lot of them are finding good women, starting to settle. Jobs becoming careers and leading the life I always wanted for myself. I fucked that up, and I was in your bar, drowning my fuckin’ sorrows over it.

  I could have just as easily had a drink at the club for free, but I just… I’m surrounded by the guys and their girls and I’ve never felt more alone – until I woke up half drunk, beat to fuck on your couch. I don’t know, maybe you were my guardian angel that night. Maybe my guardian angel led me to you.

  Whatever it was, you were what I needed in that moment and I’d really like to be whatever you need right now. Friend? Lover? Something less, something more, something in between? I don’t care.

  Whatever it is you need, I’m here for it.

  A confessional for your sins, I’d happily eat them and bear the consequences. Just someone to talk to, someone to hear what no one else is willing to listen to… I can do that.

  If you want to vent, to rage, to just talk about the weather or chat about memories or even the simple things like your favorite color or flavor of ice cream, I’m here for it.

  Truth, your letter was a nice way to pass the time after a day of chorin’ around the farm. I’m listening to the goats out there and under the floor I’m lying on. It’s quiet, and peaceful out this way. I think you’d like it, but truth be told, I’d rather pull myself up by the bootstraps some before I brought you around.

  I know I cast more than a few stones about your apartment, but I’m damn sure living in a glass house. My current residence is a mattress on the floor of the loft of this barn. Most of the loft is storage for Fenris’ lady’s pottery business. I’ve carved out a quiet little corner for myself, though.

  The house on the property is impressive, and I could totally stay in it if I wanted, but I’m a bit of an introvert by nature and I like my own space at the end of the day. The quiet.

  That was something I liked about my time with you. You didn’t feel the need to always fill the silence. You let me be me. No expectations or anything. It was nice.

  “Mace!”

  “Yeah!” I called back. Sauley opened the door to the loft and came in. I lifted my chin. “What’s up?”

  “I’m leavin’, got it figured out.”

  “Good deal, two seconds and you can take this with you.”

  I finished my thoughts, wrapping up quick.

  Anyway, Sauley is here. He’s bringing you something. Something I think you’ll like. Please accept it.

  I want to hear more about you. Whatever you want to tell me.

  Mace

  I pulled the pages from the notebook and folded them in, half tucking them into a half-sized manila envelope. I’d found a bunch in a random box.

  “Here, deliver this along with what I already gave you.”

  “Sure thing.” He took the freshly sealed envelope and tapped it against the fingertips of his opposite hand.

  “Should have seen her face when she opened that card,” he said. I raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. He looked uncomfortable for a moment but said, “She looked… relieved. I don’t know. I know she misses you. Like for real, no lie.”

  I nodded and braced my forearms on my knees.


  “What’s the point of this whole story?” I asked.

  He shook his head and said, “Isn’t one, I guess.”

  I nodded, and he raised the envelope and gave a nod, tapping it one last time against his fingers. When he turned to go, I called out, “Sauley?” He turned, and I said, “Thanks for doing this for me.”

  He considered me for a moment and said, “It’s actually my pleasure. No better feeling than being the bearer of whatever makes a sad girl look happy again. Even if it is just for a few moments.”

  I nodded and said, “Just wish these damn ribs would heal up faster so I could see it for myself.”

  Sauley nodded and looked thoughtful a second.

  “I’ve got you, bro,” he said and with that, he turned and left the barn.

  I chuckled and shook my head. He was a good kid. I had no doubts he was going to make it and be one of us. Still, everyone had to pay their dues.

  I lay back, hands under my head and stared at the raw wood ceiling of the barn loft and wondered idly if I’d paid mine yet or if there was more flesh and blood to be extracted still.

  When I closed my eyes, Raven’s face is the thing I saw, and it made me ache. Ache to hold her, ache to kiss her for real, and ache to love her into a state of pure sweet bliss.

  I really hoped I would get the chance to do those things and show her that not every man out here was a douchelord. I wasn’t entirely sure how bad Max had hurt her, but when I found out, I could tell you one thing; he was going to hurt ten times worse.

  10

  Raven…

  “Here, I think you’re supposed to read this first before I let you know what’s in the box.” Sauley handed me a smaller manila envelope.

  “Oh, um, okay.” I laughed slightly and slid into the booth he occupied, an old brown apple crate with a nest of cardboard shred – like packing material overflowing from it sitting on the table.

  I leaned forward in the dim but serviceable bar light hanging over the center of the table, plucking the envelope from the top of the mess in the crate and bringing it to the light to see what I was doing as I opened it up. I unfolded the pages and smiled softly at the handwriting on them.

  I went through a range of emotions as I read through the pages, and finally smiled. Setting them down, I looked up to Sauley grinning on his phone. The sound of a message being swept into the ether of the internet emanating from the device.

  “What’d you just do?” I asked.

  “Sent him a picture. Hope you don’t mind.”

  I felt myself blush and thought of Mace looking at my photo and blushed even more. I wondered what he would think. I rolled my lips together and took a deep breath.

  “I mean, I don’t know exactly what it is, but I do know it’s pottery of some kind. Maybe I shouldn’t have read the letter first.”

  “Nah,” Sauley said. “I think you definitely were.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him in suspicion and stood so I could see down into the crate. Reaching my hands in, I found multiple paper-wrapped hard pieces.

  “Oh! There’s a lot in here!”

  “Yeah, might want to wait until you’re home. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll carry it for you.”

  “You’re too sweet,” I told him with a smile, and I think it was his turn to blush.

  He walked me home and insisted on carrying the crate up to the apartment which honestly jangled my nerves. I was polite but firm at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I’d really rather do it myself,” I said, and he acquiesced, inclining his head, and handing over the crate.

  “You got it?” he asked.

  “I think I’ve got it,” I said, and he let me have it.

  “Here, let me hold this door.”

  “Goodnight, Sauley. Thank you once again. You really don’t have to do this every night.”

  “I won’t be able to,” he said. “But I will until Mace feels up to it himself. You have a good night.”

  “Thank you. Um, I’ll have a letter for him next time. Is that okay?”

  “Absolutely. Anything I should tell him?”

  “Sorry I didn’t have a chance to write him one this time?” I winced slightly.

  “It’s no problem. I’m sure he gets it.”

  “You guys really are too sweet,” I said, stepping into the tiny square of broken tile in front of the stairs. Sauley smiled, winked, and shut the door tightly, waiting it seemed until I was up the stairs and inside my apartment.

  I sighed and set the crate down, turning and flipping on lights so I could really see what was inside. I sat down on the couch and dragged it over. I lifted the biggest paper-wrapped package out from the center, undoing it and gasping at the rich emerald-green-and-black glazed teapot in my hands.

  “This is so beautiful,” I murmured.

  It had a lid and five matching teacups and saucers. I had never owned anything both so functional and so beautiful at the same time.

  “Mace,” I whispered quietly. “This is just too much…”

  I sighed, and I think my heart gave a twist in my chest, a deep pang of longing flowing out from it.

  “God, I miss you,” I said with a tsk at how ridiculous I knew it had to sound, even though no one was listening.

  I half thought about racing down the stairs. Of chasing Sauley halfway up the block back to where he was parked at the bar and begging him to take me wherever Mace was, but those sorts of grand romantic gestures were only done in the movies. Do them in real life and you were a pathetic, crazy, sad sack, which to be fair I felt like I was all of those things.

  I did as the letter suggested. I took my new teapot and cups into the kitchen and washed them at my sink. I prepared the tea and set the kettle on the stove, but I didn’t turn it on yet.

  First, I took a shower, then I found my comfiest house clothes that were fresh and clean from my excursion to the laundromat on my other day off the day before. I found my notebook and pens, went back to the kitchen, and made myself a brew.

  Back to the couch, I opened the notebook and balanced it on my knee.

  Dear Mace,

  I love my new tea set. I can’t thank you enough for it, but you have to stop spoiling me!

  I have to confess, I don’t play or watch anything on the console or TV, but I do listen to music. I missed having music in my life. It’s the one thing I missed the most after smashing my phone.

  I hesitated. Did I want to get into this? It had the potential to ruin so many things. I chickened out and didn’t say anything more about why I had smashed my phone. The threatening messages, the phone calls… No, I didn’t get into any of that. I just wanted to enjoy things just a little longer.

  I turned some music on and took my pen and book back up.

  One of my favorite things that I used to do was fire spinning. Yes, I was one of those crazy people with the fireballs on chains, except they’re called poi balls. Not to be confused with the Hawaiian dish, poi. Manuk and I had a laugh over that one once. He was really confused when I said I missed spinning my poi. He thought I splattered fermented taro root paste everywhere. Anyway, the music makes me want to get back into that. I’d need to start with some training wheels, so to speak. I’m probably quite a bit rusty now.

  For reasons I don’t want to get into, I left a lot of my things back at the house I used to live in. I don’t know what my old roommates did with it. If they got rid of it or kept it.

  One of my favorite things in the world was gathering at Gas Works with my fellow fire performers on summer nights, all of us taking turns, getting live practice in. It’s been a while.

  What about you? What are some of your favorite things? You talked a lot about the things you did to pass the time in prison, and about what put you in prison, but you never really said much about the good things. How long has it been since you indulged in anything good?

  You have me here, hot shower, favorite comfy clothes, drinking my favorite tea out of my beautiful new tea set – what do you do to
relax?

  What’s your passion? What sparks your curiosity?

  What makes you happy?

  I love the elements, myself. Walking in the woods, touching the trees. Spinning fire, and walking along the beach, my feet in the water. I feel the most grounded when I’m connected to the four basic elements. I always have, I guess.

  I don’t know that I’m necessarily religious at all, but I’m certainly spiritual. I guess Pagan would be the closest fit, but I wouldn’t call myself a Wiccan or a witch.

  I just am. I love existing in nature and revel in just being… or I used to.

  I guess I know something of existing in both the light and dark the world has to offer. Don’t we all in our own ways?

  I sighed and closed my eyes, the deep wellspring of emotion opening up beneath me and swallowing me whole, the hopelessness, the helplessness of my situation closing over my head.

  I wondered to myself, and not for the first time, how one person could do this to another and not only get away with it, but were aided by the very people sworn to protect. It was sick, and it hurt. Also, and not for the first time, I wondered… what did I do to deserve this?

  I closed the notebook. Maybe I would finish writing Mace later… maybe I should stop. After all, he was sweet, and it’d already been proven he was far from invulnerable.

  I hugged my knees and finished my tea, drowning in the depths of my sorrow and memories that just would not be put to bed.

  11

  Mace…

  It’d been something like three weeks since I’d left Raven’s and I was almost back to one hundred percent. I was definitely back enough that I could start to manage some things. The letters went back and forth two or three a week. Some of the other guys started getting invested in what was up, and when Sauley couldn’t go, occasionally one of the other guys would.

  I appreciated it. Appreciated even more when they came around the farm for whatever reason, they asked questions.