Page 127 of Chasing Infinity

Noah - Age 18

The smell of coffee and the sizzle of bacon wakes me. The intoxicating aroma beckons me to get up and indulge myself. I shift uncomfortably on the couch that is too small for my long frame, my back feels like I slept in a vice, and the crick in my neck sends shockwaves up into my head. In a swift movement, I throw the blanket off of me and sit up with a groan. I blink a few times, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. As I stretch out the achy muscles, I glance around the unfamiliar room.

Yesterday comes back to me in a rush, and I press the heel of my hand against my temple, trying to steady myself. The conversation with my father rings in my head, and I try not to think too hard about being banished from my home. And Addison…

Addison.

I left her there and didn’t look back. My heart threatens to break in half the more I think about it, so instead, I get up off the couch and walk to the small bathroom in the hallway, squashing down the heartache. I turn on the faucet and splash my face with the cool water, trying to center myself.

Last night I made it to my Aunt Trish’s secluded mountain home. She was waiting for me, rocking in a chair on her porch and sipping an old-fashioned. When I parked my truck in her drive, she walked down the few steps from the porch to meet me and then helped me grab my things, setting me up in the living room and promising to have the guest bedroom ready in a few days.

She left me alone to my own devices for the rest of the evening, disappearing into her own bedroom. I’m not sure if my mother told her all that was going on or if she could just sense that I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but I was grateful for some alone time. I crashed on the couch and passed out in record time.

When I leave the bathroom, I’m feeling a little more refreshed. I pad into the kitchen, where I find my Aunt Trish standing at the stove. She’s got the same chestnut brown hair that my mother has, but where my mom’s hair is straight as a pin, Aunt Trish’s is full of wild and springy curls. When she turns around, though, those same blue eyes take me in.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” my aunt says to me and then motions towards the small table in the middle of the kitchen. “Sit down. Breakfast’s ready.”

I scoot out the chair, wincing at the sound of it scraping her hardwood. Aunt Trish turns around, pan in hand, and slides three pieces of bacon onto the plate at my seat. As soon as I’m sitting, she goes back to the stove and does the same with a pan of eggs, asking how many I want to make sure I have enough.

“Do you want toast? I thought about making pancakes, but then I decided I didn’t feel like it. I can throw in a few slices of toast real easy, though, if you want.”

I shake my head, smiling at her gratefully. “No, this is more than enough. Thank you.”

Aunt Trish slides into the seat across from me and eyes me suspiciously. “So polite. Your mama taught you well. She ever tell you about how our parents would swat us if we were ever rude?”

“No, she never did,” I respond, spooning a big bite of scrambled eggs into my mouth.

My aunt hums as she watches me eat, taking a bite out of a strip of bacon every other second. “She didn’t really tell me what was going on, just that you were in trouble and needed a place to stay.”

I press my lips together into a thin line and dip my chin in agreement. “Yeah, that’s about the gist of it.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Trouble’s not following you, is it?”

Sadness creeps into my chest at her question, and I look down at my plate. “No, it’s not. I left that all behind in Willow Heights.”

Aunt Trish nods her head as if she approves of my answer. Then after scrutinizing me for another minute, she asks the golden question, “This was all your father’s doing, wasn’t it?”

I nearly choke on the piece of bacon I’m chewing but manage to swallow it down without any casualties. “Why would you think that?”

“I’ve never liked that man,” she spits, and I reel back at the venom lacing her voice. “I always told Catie that it was a bad idea to get roped in with him. There’s just something that seems—“ she waves her hand about, searching for the word, “—slimy about him. I don’t know.”

I don’t answer but raise my eyebrows up once and then look down at my plate. Aunt Trish is on a roll now, though, and she continues to rant.

“But did she listen to me? Oh,no. That Declan is nothing if not charismatic. He won her over, and she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Then you came along,” her voice changes slightly, and her eyes return to me. “Cutest baby I ever did see, I’ll tell you what.”

“You’ve met me before?” I ask her, surprised. I have no memory of this.

She bobs her head. “Oh, yes. I came down to Willow Heights a few times while you were young. You were teeny, tiny, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember.” She squeezes her hands together as if to show me how small I was the last time she saw me. “But I stopped coming around after your second birthday. Your father—“ she shakes her head and trails off.

“He’s pretty bad.”

“That’s an understatement,” Aunt Trish mutters, looking out the window above the sink. “When your mother called me, I was hoping she was calling me to tell me she was planning to leave him.”

I frown. “I’m not sure that will ever happen.”

“Well, a girl can hope,” Aunt Trish says, a wry smile forming. And then she sighs wistfully. “Alright,” she says, waving her hand again. “Lay it on me.”

“What?” I’m quickly learning that my aunt has much more energy and moxie than I’m used to dealing with. It reminds me of Addison, and I feel a pang of guilt stab my heart.

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