at me. I’m plagued with thoughts of our time together, and now a sense of emptiness. I wonder if he left because of me.
My finger raises to the puckered skin on my chest, thick and lumpy, the memory of the day still festering and present. The past is the past for a reason, and a scar is evident of growth, but I don’t believe it, or at least know how to.
Mast - Vertical spar that supports sails.
I knew better.
I fucking knew better, but the sight of her swallowed me whole and left me unprepared, too terrified to see myself in her eyes. Too afraid to know the connection fabricated deep within my bones, and pull the thread that would unravel the truth.
With the sky teetering on the edge of lavender and blue, fog blankets the streets, enveloping everything in a plush white cloud. I walk in silence, attempting to justify my actions and come to terms with the door I just opened, but I can’t.
I think about the starburst pink that found her cheeks when I stood by the door, and her full lips colored in cherry. I told myself I’d never come here. Ever. I wouldn’t step foot in this town. I tried not to. I told myself that because I knew who was here. I knew what I’d do if I was in the same town as her.
Pushing out a breath, I groan. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Nobody answers me. Truth is I wasn’t thinking.
I wanted to see her face, to know if she was happy, or sad, or simply existing… like me. I don’t know why I chose to walk into that bar. I might never know, but I like to think it didn’t have anything to do with me. And that’s a dangerous place to be held in when nothing is in your control.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t recognize her name. I did. I do. I knew the moment she rounded the bar and headed for our table who she was.
Did I want to find her? Yes.
Did I want to know her? No. Not a fucking chance in hell did I want that.
But still, I saw what I wanted and took it, regardless of what it means. I know what it means. It won’t come without devastation for her.
I make my way through the streets, trying to rationalize my actions. Nothing provides relief. I take my time and walk the same path near the docks I’d walked with her, when I slipped so easily into her life by the way her dark eyes captivated me. I stare at the water, the boat barely visible through the fog. Rain drenches the pier. The air smells of fresh water and a salty breeze. It’s funny how I grew up in this town, but I don’t remember a goddamn thing about it, other than wanting to leave.
I pass by the bar draped in darkness from its usual neon beer signs lighting the front. I curse myself for even entering it when I knew I shouldn’t. Bear didn’t know, no one, but I knew the real reason I walked inside the doors of Weldon’s Pub.
Chained to the past, I make my way to my dad’s house. I push my key into the lock and twist. the old wooden door, with years of chipped white paint flaking, creaks as I open it.
Bear’s asleep on the couch, his arms around a boy I rarely get to see these days. Atlas is the reason I’m here, or maybe it’s her, too. I’d be lying if I said it was either-or.
With a shaky grip on reality, I make my way over to them, the faint light of the kitchen enough to make out his face. His cheeks are pink and warm, his dark lashes fluttering through dreams. For a moment, I think my entrance woke him, but he remains asleep, unaware of my presence.
Atlas’s arm flops off the couch. I gently fold it against his chest and then drape a blanket over them. Feels kind of strange tucking my younger brother and son in, but it wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve spent a lifetime taking care of Bear, but Atlas, I can’t help but think I should be doing better. For him, for his mother. I watch him sleep for a moment. His eyes, his chin, everything about him reminds me of his mother.
“There’s coffee,” a gruff voice mumbles behind me. Dad’s shoulder is pressed into the wooden doorframe