Page 4 of Pity the Living, Not the Dead

Elijah drew himself into a battle stance so fast I never saw him move until he was standing right in front of me. “What? Where?” he questioned, blocking me from whatever he must have thought was about to attack. “They’ll have to get through me first.”

“Sorry, I didn’t— Wait, how did you get over here so quickly? And did you just growl?” All previous thoughts vanished as his actions filled me with more questions than I could fire off.

“Oh, um, reflexes,” Elijah sputtered, relaxing the slightest bit.

“Reflexes? Those are some kick-ass reflexes you’ve got there, my friend. Maybe you could teach me some moves?” I half-asked, questioning what I felt was a bullshit reply.

He turned away, and muttered, “You have no idea.”

Why was I so enamored of this man? Yeah, sure, he was gorgeous. Tall. Built. Fucking hell. Blond shoulder-length hair and stunning azure eyes the color of the ocean I adored. Everything I wasn’t. All things that fit atypeI didn’t know I preferred and sent my dick into overdrive. How could I assimilate these aspects as my type when I had never truly been on a single date? Yet here I was, obsessively thinking of giving it up to a man who had readied himself to fight off imaginary enemies for me. Like he’d even be interested in anything more than friendship with a skinny loser like me.

Elijah stayed protectively by my side after that, poised defensively for whatever may come, broad shoulders stiffly set, eyes religiously scanning the surrounding area. “Care to take a walk?” I asked him, hoping to ease the anxiety I’d caused.

He swept his hand through the air. “Lead the way.”

As we walked along the waterfront, the cool breeze rolling off the water chilled me. Even during the summer months, you generally kept a sweater on hand for evenings near the waterfront, and in my haste to escape my family, I’d forgotten mine. The cooler nights were a nice contrast to the warm, summer days.

“You’re cold,” Elijah said, removing the leather jacket he wore and draping it over my shoulders. The sweet gesture tugged at my lonesome heartstrings as butterflies swarmed my insides.

“So, Elijah, you’ve heard my sob story. Now it’s your turn.”

“Not much to tell, really. No family. Lost them ages ago,” Elijah replied. I felt there was more to that, but as a stranger, I could understand his short reply. Something inside me was screaming to learn all I could about him, which I hoped would come with trust and time.

“What do you do for fun, Elijah?”

“Fun?” He laughed. “I can’t remember when I last had fun.”

“Yeah, me either,” I admitted. Kind of stupid to ask someone what they did for fun when I didn’t even know the meaning of the word myself. Maybe I was seeking a reply that would strike a chord with me, spark an unknown interest. I needed hobbies to pass the time. Knowing I’d soon be working, then going home either to my boring-ass bedroom or, someday, a lonely apartment, left me wanting more. Would hobbies be enough to fill that void?

“Come on,” Elijah said, nudging my shoulder again. “You are young and freshly out of school. There has to be some stories there?”

“Nope. Aldriches don’t step a toe out of line. Ever.” I sighed, wondering when Elijah was gonna call it a night and run as far away from this gloomy loser as he could. “I’m sure you’ve had all you can take of me. Please don’t feel like you need to stay. I’m not suicidal or anything like that, just trying to find my way is all.”

Elijah stopped, grabbed my arm, and swung me around so we were facing one another. “First off, I go where I want and when I want to. If I did not want to be here with you, Liam, I can assure you I would have already left. Secondly, you are young and have your whole life ahead of you. There is no need to push yourself the way you are. So you start working for your family soon, it doesn’t mean you have to stay long term. Get your feet wet, get a few paychecks in the bank, and brush up your resume. And for the love of all things holy, get a place of your own so you can live the life you’re missing out on, my friend. The longer you stay under their thumb, the more control they have.”

Elijah hit the key issue right on the head.Why hadn’t I seen it this way?Before I overthought yet something else, I hugged him. He froze for a moment as my arms wrapped around his waist before he returned the gesture, locking me inside his tight embrace.How could I feel so safe in his arms when I hardly know him?The warmth that came while in his capable arms was indisputable.Safety, belonging.

“Do you live nearby?” I asked him as we parted.

“Not too far away.”

Recklessly telling a complete stranger where I resided, I heard my mother’s scolding voice about oversharing. “A mile or so down the north side of the riverfront is where I live. See the old sawmill?” I asked, pointing in the direction the historic building sat.

“I do.”

“That’s the edge of our property. Not sure what the family’s plans are for the sawmill itself. We’ve owned it since they decommissioned it back in the seventies, but just let it sit. Such a waste. I would love to repurpose it. Maybe turn it into an interactive museum of sorts. A place kids could go on school field trips and learn how it works and what it was used for back in its heyday,” I rambled on. I had never shared that idea with another before, yet it flowed effortlessly as Elijah and I chatted.

“I think you found your calling, Liam,” Elijah said. “Maybe you could meet with the historical society and work something out. Look into buying and renovating historic buildings. I know that’s all the rage in Seattle, mostly because they are landlocked and have no choice in the matter, but they have strict guidelines for the buildings currently being revamped.”

“My family would never go for it. They’d scoff at any idea I brought to the table.” My shoulders sagged, once again defeated even before something I was interested in began. I sounded like such a wussy and felt like an even bigger one. Never once had I stood up to someone in my family, and I was beginning to believe I never would. Another kick to my lacking sense of self-esteem. They say everyone needs to believe in something, and what I needed to believe in was myself. Having never done anything worthy of praise, that was becoming harder by the day to achieve.

“Things will get better, Liam,” I said, trying my best to sound reassuring even though I did not feel it. How could his family disregard him like this? I thought his idea was bloody brilliant.

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not living my life or lies,” Liam replied, his head downcast.

“True.”I have already survived my own personal hell. But is it truly survival when you are actually dead?“Come on, let me walk you home.”

As we walked along, Liam continued, “Did you know—” he began, shaking his head. “Of course, you don’t. My mother buys all my clothes. Picks out what she likes for me, washes and hangs it, and that is what I’m left with. The color my room is painted? Chosen by my mother. Bed sheets, comforter, you name it, all chosen and paid for by my mother. I know I should be more appreciative, but it’s hard to be when I’m not asked for input.”

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