Page 34 of Run to Me
“Yeah. I did. He stopped for a while and then today happened.” My heart falls further the longer I stare at the shattered glass on the floor, one small piece covered in tiny drops of blood.
Her eyes bulge and she covers her mouth. “I’ll have to let your uncle know. I’ll call the therapist. I’ll—”
“You did this. He was getting better and now who knows how much of that has been undone. This will be another thing he’ll always blame himself for. Another reason to feel ashamed and damaged.”
“That was never my intention and you know it. He knows we love him. I’ll always love him.”
“Did you tell him that? He’s the one who needs to hear it, not me,” I scream, rushing to my room and slamming the door behind me. I haven’t said it to him lately either. I’m just as guilty. I reach for my phone, ignoring the knocking on my door. I have nothing left to say to her or Dad. She wants me to leave the house more and to meet new people, then I will. I’ll be so busy with all these friends she wants me to make, I won’t have time to be home for dinner or family movie night. They’ll only see me when I walk through the door and leave the house.
“Nate,” my mom calls on the other side of the door. “You’ll understand why I’m doing this eventually. You both will. It’s not because I don’t love either of you. It’s because I love you both too much.”
Gritting my teeth, I lower myself onto the bed. Feeling like there’s a fire in my chest, I rock back and forth, taking in deep breaths. My fingers shake on the phone as I dial Jace’s number. No pick-up on the first or even the third ring. I reach his voicemail and hang up to try again. I keep calling, and after thefifth time of the call not going through, I leave him a message. I tell him I love him over and over. I tell him I’ll see him soon. I tell him ten good things he’s done lately and that he deserves a reward for each one.
One: You kept me from getting scared at the movies.
Two: You made me appreciate the rain more.
Three: You held the door for four people yesterday when we got gas.
Four: You cleaned ice cream off my face.
Five: You paid for the popcorn and pretzels.
Six: You washed the dishes so Mom didn’t have to worry about it.
Seven: You offered to take a shift at work so your co-worker could enjoy their birthday.
Eight: You saved me all the orange Starbursts.
Nine:You saved a bee from a puddle.
Ten: You gave me the whole world this morning.
“I love you,” I say one last time with a sob catching in my throat.
It’s only two months. I can survive without him for two months. But can he survive himself? He’s his own worst enemy, especially when the only words he’s surrounded by are the ones in his head.
Dropping the phone on the floor, I curl in on myself on my bed, wishing I could sleep the rest of the summer away. My mom’s words are tangled webs in my head. I picture Nate alone on the plane, having to be around so many people and experiencing something huge all on his own. I can’t stop the worry from seeping in further. My head is on the verge of erupting and I’m the one who needs my world to spin faster than my thoughts for once.
Fifteen
Jace
Weeks of working on the farm and I’ve yet to get used to the smell. Lifting my shirt over my nose, I push the shovel under the horse shit, and when I’m done cleaning out the stalls, I feed all the animals. Getting an early start helps me finish by lunch time. Not wanting me to miss breakfast, my aunt Rachel walks out to the barn to bring me a toaster waffle or biscuits with sausage wrapped in a napkin. She always makes sure I have plenty of water and snacks on me too. I actually like being here.
There’s only one thing missing—him. He’s been blowing my phone up ever since I first got here, stopping for a few days only to pick up where he left off. As hard as it is not to answer, I let the voicemail get each call. The distance is hard enough as it is, but knowing we’ll never get another day in his or my bed together . . . Knowing there’ll be no more sneaking out to the old treehouse or to movies . . . No more him . . .
He thinks it’s only for the summer, that we’ll be together again soon. He’s counting down the days and I hate how hopeful he sounds in each message. I want to answer. I want to tell him Ilove him back. On the days I struggle the most, I read his texts and listen to his voicemails. Closing my eyes, I pretend he’s right next to me and speaking into my ear. I can almost smell the sweet candy on his lips again. All the orange Starbursts. He never was able to convince me how good they were until I tasted them on his lips the last week we were together.
If I answer his calls and respond to his messages I know I’ll take back my decision. Not going back home is for the best. I won’t be gone forever, though, only until I’m sure he’s moved on and realizes how much I held him back. Until he realizes he can have a much better life without me. I signed up for community college forty-five minutes away from here, switching my degree to agriculture. I haven’t told him I won’t be joining him at the university we’d both dreamed of going to together since freshman year. I don’t know how to. Hearing the hurt and anger in his voice would cut me way too deep. I’m barely keeping it together as it is, the hole in my heart growing larger every day.
Entering the hen house, I collect the eggs in a bucket and put them up high in the enclosure so the raccoons and other animals won’t get them. There’s been a huge stray cat problem lately, and too many have managed to sneak past the dogs over the last couple of days. Sweat drips from my brow as I check the electric fences and move the sheep to a new section of the pasture.
Healthy green grass sprouts around my boots as I wait for the last group of lambs to make it over. The smallest one circles my legs,baaing. He’s bottle fed so not as skittish as the others. I bend down to pet his soft fleece, wiping more sweat from my face with my shirt, and a smile cracks along my lips when the lamb tries to suck on it.
“Not feeding time yet, buddy.” I give him one last pat on the head before turning around and closing the gate behind me. Kneeling in the grass, I yank the water bottle from my back pocket and chug it down, allowing my face to soak up the sun.
The farm life is as peaceful as it sounded. Animals truly are better than people. They didn’t judge you for your past mistakes or remind you of the ones you made. They rely on you and look forward to your presence. They’re gentler and easy to please. I do no wrong out here. I don’t hurt Nate in my sleep since I go to bed alone. I don’t hurt my mom by always doing the wrong thing, and here I’m not known as the kid whose dad kept men in his basement.
