Page 61 of Invisible String
“You can drop your bags on this bed,” Lisa instructs.
I nod and do as she says. I then stand back, knitting my fingers together. I want to go home. Tears want to drop, but I hold them in.
“The boys outside are John and Lance. You can go out and play.” She walks out of the room toward the living room, where Mrs. Anna is waiting.
I follow, unsure of what I should do.
The minute Mrs. Anna leaves, the smile on Lisa’s face vanishes. “Get your ass outside. What the hell are you looking at?”
My chin trembles, and I walk out the back door.The boy my age was nice to me, but the older boy not so much. I was told to stay out of Lisa’s way, that she wasn’t the kindest. She fed us sometimes, or we had to make our own meals. I lived at that home for seven months, and from that day on, I moved from home to home.
My past fades away with a clap of thunder. My mind drifts back to Rainey. Reuniting with her has been the highlight of my existence, a memory I will always treasure. Despite my initial reluctance to see her again, she had a powerful pull on me, like an addictive substance. With her, I learned to experience emotions and sensations that were previously foreign to me. Not that I can express them, but I feel a strange tug.
She brought memories I buried, and those that were meant to be kept buried.
Before all this shit happened, I had planned on talking to Rainey about me leaving and us keeping in touch. I meant what I said:she’s mine. All I know is we can’t be together now. Maybe someday.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RAINEY
The thunder has stopped, but droplets of rain trickle on the window. The sound of a rumbling car awakens me. I wait for Max to knock on my door, but his car is gone. The frustrating part is I don’t have his number. He’s been here at my place the whole time, so it’s not like I bothered to ask him for it. More than likely, it didn’t click in my head to get it.
There was no way for me to call to ask where he was or if he was okay. I check the clock on the wall—eleven o’clock. I look out the window and see Max carrying storage containers in his car. His clothes. He’s packing. My heart erupts into a million shattered glass particles stabbing at my chest. He’s leaving?
The air is being sucked out of me. I run up the stairs frantically to search for a jacket, but I think otherwise. I run back downstairs and slip on my sandals.
The fat droplets of rain assault me as I run toward Max. My steps platter on the wet sand. “What are you doing?”
He turns, and our gazes connect. He’s soaked from head to toe.
He shoves a trash bag filled with clothes, I assume. “I need to head back,” he says in a dark tone, turning, looking at anything but me.
“Why? We had plans. Did something happen?”
“No, it’s just time I go back.”
My breath becomes rapid, almost to the point of hyperventilation. “Now? Why, Max? We never discussed this,” I say, raising my hands in confusion. “Everything was fine just hours ago. Why are you acting hostile?” I step closer, grabbing his shoulder to make him face me. His beautiful eyes stay trained on the puddles at our feet. I gently lift his chin. “Did I do something wrong?” Then it dawns on me: My dad was here. Did he overhear him?
“You did nothing wrong. It’s just time I go, Rainey. I need to find work. I never meant to stay longer than intended.” His long eyelashes drip with water. “I was going to say bye after I loaded everything.” His voice is a low rumble.
“My dad was here a while ago. Did you happen to hear anything?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Just… So, a goodbye just like that?” My hands go to my chest, trying to claw the pain ripping me. “Is what we had nothing?” My voice breaks.
He slams the trunk shut. “It was something.”
Something?
He says it like a dried-up prune. Dry.
“Then what’s the plan? What is going to happen between us?” As much as I hate asking this question, my gut instinct tells me he was planning on leaving without even discussing it, if there will be an—us. All he mentioned was a goodbye. My insides cry in panic. It feels like it’s on fire, and I don’t know how to soothe it. Only one person can, and he won’t be doing it by the looks of his unreadable face, like a pained mask. His expression remains frozen. This is where it ends. I’m not his homeland.
“We talked about this before. I was going to head back. You were going back to school, back to your life.” He runs his long, thick fingers through his wet black hair.
Back to my life. He’s my life.
