by Shelly Crane
It was impossible not to smile down at the baby. I gasped a little at the way he looked so entirely like Mason and Milo. Even more so in the last couple weeks. Mason and Milo sat at the bar opposite each other on the stools, but I saw Milo's eyes on me every few minutes. I tried not to return his gaze, because a part of me wanted to be angry he was so worried. Like I couldn't take care of myself, but that small rational part of me knew that I was breaking down, and she was silently begging him to see me, really see me, and know that I was falling. He said he would catch me, but would he really? When he saw me falling further and further down into myself, being that girl that I used to be, the girl I hated so much but didn't know how to send away…would he still want to catch me? Would he still chase me?
I found his eyes on me once more, but he wasn't worried this time. His eyes were smiling along with his lips as he looked at his nephew in my arms. I watched him and Mason together and could hear some of their conversation as they talked. They were trying to work out their own crap. With everything that had gone on they hadn't had much time to do it. When they started in on old stories, it changed however.
I didn't want to listen to them talk about the things they used to do as kids. When Mason asked Milo if he remembered them making their mom crazy with their rap songs they used to write in middle school, or making four grilled cheese sandwiches each on Saturday mornings, or how they jumped on her bed to wake her up on Christmas morning. But it was when Mason brought up him teaching Milo how to drive—it was too much. My body moved on its own. I was done.
I handed the baby to Emma, placing little Jackson in her arms, and made my way across the living room. I guess it was obvious that the conversation had upset me because I heard Mason's curse from behind me before I shut the bathroom door. Milo was knocking a few seconds later. "Maya, baby, open up."
"I want to be alone," I heard myself say, and even I was frightened by how dead it sounded. "For a little while."
"Maya," he said louder, a little more desperate. "Please."
I steeled myself and knew there was one thing I needed right now. One thing I could get easy as pie. One thing… Just one. I straightened my face and hair and took a deep breath to compose myself. I opened the door and tried to smile. "Sorry. It's just hard to hear those stories, you know?"
His mouth fell open and he backed up to let me out, shocked that it had been that easy. "We weren't even thinking. Sorry-"
"I'm okay, just needed a minute." I took his hand. "Come on. Let's go back before things get even more awkward."
He looked at me closely, but nodded. I tugged him to the couch and immediately waved away Mason's apology. Honestly, I didn't care. It wasn't his fault my brother, who taught me how to drive, died. It wasn't anybody's. They should be able to reminisce with each other.
"So, I thought maybe looking at the photo albums might help," I suggested and beckoned everyone to the couches.
"Really?" Milo asked, concerned. "You don't have to do this now."
"No, I think it'll help." I pulled all the albums I could find from the bookshelf and plopped them on the coffee table. Jackson was in his car seat asleep, so I ticked my head for Emma to see.
"Look at this." I pointed to a picture of me with and my mom. Both of us had highlights and heels on with our Christmas dresses. Milo leaned over my shoulder and whistled. I smiled up at him. "My family used to make a really big deal about Christmas. All the holidays, really." I turned the page, biding my time, hating myself, loathing that girl I was becoming all over again, but wanting nothing more in that moment than just one thing.
I showed them several books, and it broke my heart over and over again to see Will in them. Finally, I felt like Milo had trusted me enough to think I was okay. "There was this one picture of us that… I don't see it here. Hold on, I think it's in the hall."
"Huh, look at that," Milo joked wryly as I walked away. I turned, looking over my shoulder for a split second, hating myself so much for ruining this with him. He smiled, holding up a picture of me and my senior prom date in front of the Chinese place he lived above. "Doomed accidental kismet? I think so."
I managed a laugh. "Did you read that in a fortune cookie?"
"Of course." He winked.
And then he turned back to the pile of pictures. Because he was waiting for me. Because he trusted me. Because why wouldn't he? Because he loved me. Because I'd told him I loved him. Because he'd take care of me and wanted to keep doing so. Because he had no reason to believe I'd betray him.
I wiped a tear that raced down my cheek and stepped quietly into my ballet flats by the door. His zip-up jacket was on the hook, so I grabbed that, too, along with my wallet and the keys, as quietly as I could. I stopped and stared at my four year coin at the bottom of the key bowl. It was always in my pocket. It was always with me. Always… I picked it up in my fingers, but immediately set it on the table, unable to look at it. I had to go.
When the door opened without a creak, that little part of me, the piece that wanted to get caught and be rescued, the part that wanted Milo to chase me and find me and stop me before I could get very far, was screaming inside.
The other part, the part that was currently winning, smiled her evil smile that her plan was working and walked down the driveway to the car. I would be down the end of the road before they even realized I was gone, and by then it would be too late.
I pulled into the store and knew I looked like hell, but couldn't and wouldn't care. I grabbed the first frosted, tall bottle I found in the refrigerated section and slammed it on the counter. He jumped and spouted something about ID. I glared and rolled my eyes before pulling out an extra twenty and slipping it to him across the counter. I didn't even look back as I tossed another twenty on the counter to pay for the bottle and left.
My insides warred. All I could see as I climbed the hill was that four-year coin and Milo's face when he realized I was gone. His disappointment, his anger, his worry. He would look for me for a little while. An hour, maybe two, but then he would be angry and know how selfish I was being. He would know how disappointed Will would be in me, too.
He'd remember how I lied and manipulated to get away, how I tried to get him to have sex just to make me forget my pain. I scoffed angrily at myself and tripped over the gravel rocks, scraping my knee and leg. I cried out, but didn't stay down. I needed to get to the top. No, no, not only would Milo be done with me forever for this, he would be better off.
Milo deserved better than me or anything I was or could give him. I slipped through the fence, pushed myself up to sit, and set the bottle in front of me upright. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I stared at the bottle and fisted my fingers so tight. My fingers inched around the rim, needing that one thing. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. I hated myself. I hated myself. My crying got louder, but I couldn't stop. I felt crazy, but it had all come to this. My fingers tightened on the cap, turning it, and I begged with everything in me.
Chase me, Milo. Please chase me.
Milo
Glancing to the hall, I knew in that instant something was wrong. The knock on the door was too hard to be polite, and this was a small town. Everybody would have heard about Will and would be giving Maya her privacy. I moved to the door quickly and noted Maya wasn’t in the hall. I cursed under my breath and prayed to God she was in the bathroom, but knew in my gut that she wasn't. Damn it all to hell. She wasn't going to let me help her with this, was she?
I opened the door, my heart lifting a smidge at the thought that it might have been Joey changing her mind about coming for Will's funeral, but no, it was Maya's friend—her boss—the coffee mug lady. "Hotshot," she muttered with a small smile. "I'm so glad to see you sticking around."
I sighed, seeing my coat and Maya's shoes gone. I leaned in the doorframe, bumping my head against it, probably a little harder than was necessary for dramatics. "Too bad Maya's not."
"Oh, no…"
"Yeah. She's not taking it well."
&n
bsp; "Kid, you have to go after her!" she insisted.
I bristled. "I know that, lady." The scoff slipped from my lips before I could stop it. "I just realized that she slipped away from the house. I don't know where she went, but I'll find her. I have to. I love her, and she's hurting so bad, and I don't know why she's pushing me away, but it doesn't matter." I shrugged. "I'll find her and make her come back."
Her eyes watered and she touched my cheek. "Her production has gone down twenty-one percent at work because of you, mister."
I swallowed, knowing she was joking but she was also wasn't. She was telling me something, telling me that Maya loved me, too. "I hope it's enough to make her come back."
"Me, too."
"I've got to go."
She nodded. "I'll drive around, but she'll avoid the obvious places. They usually do."
"They?" I asked while I shoved my feet in my boots.
"Addicts, Milo." She smiled sadly and turned to go.
I felt all the blood drain from my head at once. That hadn't even crossed my mind what she might be doing. I thought she just wanted to get away, but her boss was right. Maya did want to get away, and she was in more trouble than I thought.
"Mason!" I yelled. I told him the gist of what was going on and told him to stay there in case she came back. I was going to my place first and then over to the shelter, to her job where the meetings happen, then to the church. I'd be back.
As soon as I pulled up at my house, relief flooded me at seeing a light on in my kitchen. I bolted up the stairs and opened the door slowly so as not to startle her. I shut the door and rounded the corner near the dining room. "Maya?"
"Not quite," I heard. I stiffened. Turning I found Roz himself. I'd only ever met him a couple of times. I always met with the little people who worked for him. He wasn't alone though. There was another man there in the kitchen at the counter. "Maya and Milo. How does it go? Sitting in a tree?"
"What do you want?" I growled.
"That's no way to treat someone you owe money."
"I was a stupid kid who made even stupider mistakes."
"Not my problem."
"You set us up to fail." He cocked a brow, looking amused. His black leather coat crinkled as he twisted in his chair to laugh.
"Oh, this I have to hear. Please indulge me."
"You only let the runaways work for you. The ones who are most likely to have a problem. The ones most likely to steal from you either because we got addicted ourselves or because we needed the money. Why?"
"Because it's not good to have the same people work for you for too long. This way, you take care of the problem yourself. I barely have to lift a finger to eliminate the problem, and finding another boy to sell my goods is like finding a kid to eat candy."
"You're such a bastard."
"You stole from me," he said evenly.
"I did," I admitted. I swallowed. "I'll pay you back."
"That ship has not only sailed, Milo, but sunk." He waved his finger at the other guy and nodded his head. "Do it. It's been years, and I'm ready to finish this once and for all." He smiled at me. "You might be happy to know that it's never taken me this long to find someone before. You played quite the game of hide-and-seek with my men."
My heart pounded, but it wasn't for me. It was for Maya. No one would know to go look for her, and she would think I would come. She told me to chase her and she'll think I'm not coming. I won't make it in time to save her. I hated him for that alone more than I'd ever hated anyone or anything.
If was going to die anyway, I wasn't going to lie down and take it quietly. I moved to make a run for him when a knock sounded on my door. I froze.
"Milo? Milo Sawyer? It's the police."
Roz's cold smile shined brightly before he stood and ticked his head toward the back door. "Your luck won't keep going, Milo. I'm coming for you. I'll come after your friend's funeral." He smiled. "See? I can be gracius."
I opened my mouth, wondering how he knew about Will, but they were gone. They walked out the back and I answered the door, not understanding what in the hell was going on. Why were the cops at my door? "Officer?"
"We had a call from your neighbor that there was some breaking noises coming from your apartment?" His eyebrow rose.
"Um?" I shook my head. "Nope. My friend ran off. I'm just out looking for her."
"Okay, well." He shrugged like he didn't know what else to say.
"Thanks."
I leaned against the door and breathed deep through my fist. What the hell. What the hell. What the hell. What the hell was I going to do?
The first thing was find Maya. If I had to send her away with Mason or something, so be it, but the first thing was find her and make sure she was okay, make sure she was safe.
I jumped up and ran down the stairs, jumping back in the Jeep. I headed toward her job, where they held the meetings. We had so many talks out there on those steps and in that foyer. I smiled thinking about what a pain in the butt she was when we first met. I hoped beyond hope that's where she was. I hopped out and looked all over, but she was nowhere in sight. I went to the shelter and the church, but right before I climbed out, it hit me how stupid I was. Of course.
I slammed my Jeep into gear and went across town as quickly as I could, without regard to other drivers or stoplights. When I pulled into the convenience store parking lot and saw her old truck there, I felt like I failed her. I should have known she'd come there. What if I was too late? What if she didn't want me there? She had run away after all. The thoughts I remembered this morning, of how I pushed her to let Will live a little, that she could blame me completely for this, came back to my mind.
No. I pushed all that away as I ran up the gravel hill behind the store. Even if she hated me and wanted nothing more to do with me, I owed it to her to make sure she was safe and sound. Ger her through this, get her home, get her with her friend if nothing else, and then I'd leave and she'd never have to see me again. It was probably safer that way anyway.
My heart ached at that thought.
And then there she was. It was freezing outside and she was in shorts with my jacket, her little cute shoes on, her knees pulled to her chest. A big bottle of something that would have put her way out of her misery was staring across the satellite dish at her, and she stared right back.
The bottle was full. The bottle was full…
"Sweetheart…" I said when she didn't seem to notice me approach. Even the clang of fence hitting didn't make her flinch.
She turned and looked at me. Tears streamed down her face and chin. "You came?"
"Of course I did. Are you all right?" Her face crumpled and she cried even harder. "Aw, you're breaking my heart." I knelt down, turning her knees toward me, forcing her to let me be in her space. If this was my last little bit of time with her then I needed to be as close as I could get. "What are you doing out here?" I looked over at the bottle. She did, too. Then she looked down at her palm and opened it to reveal the metal cap. Her palm was cut in a jagged, circular pattern from where she had pressed and gripped it so tightly.
"Sweetheart," I scolded in a whisper. "Why did you do that?"
"I couldn’t do it," she finally admitted. Her eyes lifted and her gaze locked onto mine. She wasn't looking at me or through me or to me. She was with me in every way, like she was inside my very soul. I took that gorgeous, tear-streaked face in my hands and begged her silently to tell me. "I couldn't do it," she repeated again. "I opened the bottle and my fingers wouldn't take it. At first, I couldn't do it because I love you." Another tear slid down and over her lips. "I knew you were already so disappointed in me," she hiccupped, but kept going, even when I opened my mouth to stop her, "because I left and was so rude to your family after they came all this way just for me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her head shook violently. "Milo, I thought I was going to bust…wide open. I thought this was what I needed. I just needed to be numb. I needed to get away. I needed to not think. I needed to not feel. I needed to no
t be awake. I needed to not be me anymore. I bought it, I came up here, I opened it and I looked at it. This bottle was all I've been able to think about all day long." She had yet to take her eyes from mine. "I thought if I could just get something, anything, in my system it would all go away, at least for today." A fresh round of tears of emerged, but my brave girl pushed through them. "But as soon as I opened the bottle, and I heard the suction it made, I couldn't do it. It made me sick to hear it, to smell it. I couldn't throw all those sober, clean years down the drain, I couldn't stand to let my dad down after he was the one who saved me the first time. I couldn't stand for Will to see me take a nosedive because of this—because of him—and I didn't want you to find me here with that in my stomach, but most of all…" she leaned forward and whispered the last words against my cheek, "drinking one sip or the whole bottle won't bring him back." She sobbed harder. "It won't bring Will back."
I pulled her up and traded places with her, sitting in the dish and putting her in my lap. I could tell how absolutely exhausted she was because her sobbing was more breathy and panting more than it was powerful. She had one hand around my neck, but everything else was limp and she let me hold her there.
She did manage to kick out her leg and knock the bottle off the edge of the dish. It busted against the rocks on the ground. She sighed against my neck and seemed to calm. I kissed her forehead, her eyes, her wet lips, smoothed her hair and rocked her, anything I could think of to soothe her.
"Thank you," she finally whispered when all her hiccups and tremors were done.
"You told me to chase you, didn't you?"
She looked up at my face like I was more than a hero. "You're doing a really good job."
I couldn't help but grin at that. "Your approval is all I could ever want."
I lifted her easily into my arms and made my way slowly, carrying her to her truck. I'd come get my Jeep later. She was exhausted. There was no way she could walk, let alone drive. Besides, I didn't want her away from me. This could very well be my last night with her.
