Page 7 of Forbidden Eyes
“He’s on the deck.”
“He’s brooding?”
“He’s calming down from fighting with the person he loves most in the world.” Her smile beams at me and breaks down some of the anger in my chest.
“He loves you most, Mom.” It’s the truth. I’ve seen over my life how much they love each other. Just like everything else in my life, their love isn’t conventional, but it’s the strongest thing I know and something I want to find for myself one day.
It’s times like these when I wish I could share everything with Mom. She’s always been my confidant, the best friend I always struggled to make. Because of that, it’s right on the tip of my tongue to tell her what I'm going to do, but I know, no matter how much she might agree with me, she’ll never allow me to go through with my thoughts.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” Lying to her breaks a little piece of me, but that’s on Dad, too.
“Night, honey. Love you.” She turns to leave me.
“Love you, too. No matter what happens.”
She stops and gives me a funny look. Right then, in that moment, I think she might have seen my plan unfolding in my head. But she just smiles, blows me a kiss and leaves.
I pull out my phone and see half a dozen missed calls and three voicemails from Andi. With all the fighting, I’d forgotten what letting her down would do to her, but I can’t worry about her feelings now. She knows more than anyone what my life can be like. A no-show will only be because of my dad, and although it will suck that I can’t celebrate with her, she’ll still have her party. With hundreds of friends. Having fun.
Just not with me.
There isn’t an endless list of numbers programmed into my phone. I’ve made friends, but those I can trust, who actually know me, I can count on one hand. Unfortunately, both my parents know who they are as well. For this to work, I’ll need someone they don’t know.
Terrance is a freshman in one of the chemistry labs I helped in a couple of times last semester. He is cute and didn’t try to act like a typical know-it-all guy, even though we were the same age. He asked me out for coffee after our second class and gave me his number. Of course, I’ve never called. Until now.
“Hey, Terrance, it’s Fia. Yeah, from Columbia. Look, I know this is out of the blue, but I have a huge favour to ask. Is there any way you could meet me in Brooklyn in a few hours?”
“Um, sure. Is this a…”
I interrupt before he gets the wrong idea. “No, I mean, not tonight. I need a lift to the bus station.”
“Right. But I don’t have a car.”
“Rather, I need your uber account. I’ll pay, don’t worry. But I can’t book it. I can’t let anyone know where I’m going.”
“Is everything alright? You’re not in any trouble?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Just a family argument and I’m…" I look out the window, checking out the lights of the city in the distance. My dad's city. God, I hate him about now. "I'm going to stay with some family I’m not fighting with.”
“Alright then.”
My heart thuds loudly in my chest as I give him a time and place and thank him. Then, I sit and contemplate what I’m about to do. The adrenalin is already making me want to run fast and hard. Space. I need it. Some time to move on with my life without such an overbearing presence making it impossible.
I order an uber to take me to Brooklyn and leave a dead trail if Dad hacks into my account. Pick up at midnight at the end of the street. A few minutes checking timetables and I find there’s a bus that leaves at 2:45 in the morning. It will take a day of travelling, but it’ll leave no trail, which is better than a flight. Uncle Nate would be all over that in a heartbeat if Dad or Mom asked for help.
If I can’t escape the house, so be it, but I have to try. The only place I can go is to Uncle Quinn and Aunt Emily. At least I know they won't throw me out or call my dad and put me straight on a flight back home. Maybe. They'll at least give me a few days grace, surely.
I have to do something.
Three
Ten minutes more and I'll be done for the morning. My legs pump the weights, and I reach forward to anchor another twenty pounds on the machine. I was a skinny kid. Gangly. I'm not anymore. Too many years looking up at Quinn's lean, muscular build, I guess, admiring him for it. He always looked so damn aggressive. It drove me to better myself, to improve my physique into something threatening to impress him. Now, he looks up at me. Not scared. I don't think I've ever seen him look scared, but it's nice to be above him at this point in my life, at least in one way.
I heave on the grips in my hands, working my deltoids at the same time as my thighs. Sweat flows down my forehead as my body strains to release more power.
More. Always more. More attitude. More aggression. More tenacity. Fuck those who step out when the road gets tough. I don't step out of anything. I lead, head down against whatever dares question my decisions or gets in my way.
The weights fall with a thud on the last rep, and I pull my erratic breathing back to what it should be. Slow. Steady. My eyes close, mind focusing on the quiet sound of nothing until the aggression filters back to a manageable level again. It's a problem I have—aggressive tendencies. Quinn tells me it's useful, that I shouldn't cage it as much as I do. He encourages me to set it loose, engage it more often. Especially when needed.