Page 63 of Taste

“No.” He spoke calmly, now rubbing my back. “This is what we’re going to do.”

“I don’t want to go down there. I don’t want to go back. I never wanted to go back.”

“Is that the farm, on the hill to the left?”

Just having him talk to me was calming. Him being here was the only thing stopping me from falling apart.

“Yes.”

“Listen to me, Finley Christensen, and listen good.” He dragged me up until I was standing instead of stooping over the wall with snot all over my face. I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t even me anymore. I was spliced into so many different versions of myself that I didn’t know where to start with figuring this part of me out. The one who couldn’t deal with feeling like I was fifteen again running away to a reality I hadn’t even known existed outside my insular, abusive home life.

I could do this. I had to. There had to be a future where I was better than this. I wanted a future where I could just be happy and not overwhelmed by the actions of two people who probably hadn’t known any better. I knew what living among these hills could turn you into, the isolation and fear, the expectations and the unwritten rules. The animals that demanded every second of your time and the fear of losing everything when bills couldn’t be paid and the bailiffs were at your door. I understood how people could lose control, because there was so little control to be found here. I hated it. Hated this place and how it made me feel.

“You can’t let this define you,” he said. “You were once someone else here, and now you’re not that person anymore. This is going to be your farewell. You and me. We’re going to stand here and reclaim this land, because this place is as much yours as it is your parents. This is your home, the place where you grew up, and you can’t let it threaten all the success you have fought so hard for. Don’t let this be your place of nightmares, because look at it. The views are stunning. I can imagine the scenery from the farm is beautiful too. Waking up and looking out over that clearing over there, the fields and…are those cattle?”

“They’re sheep, Mark. Baaa.”

“Don’t mock me. I’ve seen sheep before.”

“You’re a city boy.”

“Beach bum, thank you very much. We have stunning beaches near Bristol, remember? You’ve been there.”

“I can’t wait to go there again. Can’t wait for this to be over.”

“See? You’re doing this all wrong. This is your home. Claim it.”

“What?”

“Shout it out. Top of your lungs. Shout, ‘Fuck you! You don’t win!’”

“Fuck you, you don’t win?”

“Shout it. Now. One, two…”

I shouted it. Top of my lungs. I loved how he laughed. Then we shouted together, louder than before.

“They can’t hear you down in the valley,” Mark teased, holding both of my hands in his as he tried to climb up onto the wall.

“Don’t! They’re not very stable these things. You’ll break your bloody legs!”

“No, I won’t, because you’re coming up here with me.”

Okay. Well, I suppose I had to, if only to rescue the love of my life from breaking his neck.

“Now put your hands in the air and repeat after me—”

“You’re insane.”

“You know I am, that’s why you love me. You ready?”

“Suppose?” I smiled. He smiled even harder.

“I am Finley Christensen, and this is my kingdom.”

“I’m not shouting that!” I protested, but I was grinning, and that was his doing.

“Shout it!” He made a ridiculous leap into the air, luckily landing back in one piece on the rickety stone wall.

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