Floating

by Natasha Thomas

  Lou decides to address the furious biker in the room. I personally think she’s the only one with big enough balls to do it anyway. “Calm down, cranky biker dude. V’s fine. We’re all fine. Thanks for asking by the way. We were just discussing something that made her so happy she had a little ocular leakage incident. Nothing to get your panties in a bunch over, that is if you wear them.” She tilts her head to the side as if she’s trying to work something out. “I mean, I can totally see you as a commando dude, all macho caveman and shit. Worst-case scenario, boxer briefs and seriously, that shit just hinders immediate access. You should consider ditching them.” Just like that, all the women in the room go from tears, to fits of laughter.

  Nate however, does not look amused. Placing baby Anna in Priss’s outstretched arms, Nate plucks me gently out of the recliner, and places me back in it, but on his lap. Whoa, boy. This is the closest we’ve been since the day I arrived, and I’m not sure if being this close to him is safe, for either of us. Nate has brushed an odd stray strand of hair out of my eyes, given me one armed hugs after I’ve made us both breakfast, and even kissed my temple a few times over the last couple weeks, but nothing like this though. This is very, very close, and I am highly aware of the fact he is most definitely ALL male, at this particular moment.

  I wriggle a little trying to get free when Nate bands his arms around my hips, gives me a gentle squeeze, and growls softly in my ear, “Sit still sunshine. You squirm around like that, and you might not like the results.” I stop moving immediately and go statue still. Addressing Lou next, Nate scowls at her like she’s peed in his Cheerio’s. “It’s none of your business what’s going on under my jeans, Lou, and don’t think Steel would like how much thought you’ve given it, either. Should I have a chat with my brother and tell him he’s not keeping you satisfied?” Kendall and Priss crack up, but Lou just huffs and throws herself back into her spot on the floor rolling her eyes at him. Loosening his grip so he can stroke up and down my arm he asks, “What’re you talking about that’s got you so happy you’re crying, Sunshine?” I’m not sure I want to tell him yet. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to tell him at all. It’s personal and I have no intention of him seeing me naked ever again, so why should it matter to him? But I know it will. It will matter a great deal to him.

  Deciding in the end it’s probably better to just get it over with and come out with it, because Nate’s always been like a dog with a bone when it comes to extracting information from me, I reply, “Kenny’s going to do a tattoo for me to cover my scar.”

  Nate’s arm that’s around my waist tightens, and he tenses beneath me. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’re still tender and healing, Baby. It hasn’t been that long since you got released from the hospital.”

  Kendall explains to him what she said about checking the scar first, and admonishes him for thinking she would do anything that would hurt me or hinder my recovery. I simply tell him, “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and this is what I want Nate.”

  That seems to appease him for now at least, because some of the tension leaves his body, and he relaxes a little into the chair, taking me with him. “If it’s safe, and it’s what you want, Sunshine; then get it done. If it means that much to you, I’ll even take you and pay for it myself, when you’re ready.” I heave a sigh of relief. He’s not going to make a big deal of it. Thank God, because after Kendall crying like an unplugged dam, and Lou’s frank discussion over boxers or lack thereof, I’m fucking tired. Fighting with Nate has always been exhausting, so it’s not something high up on my to-do list right this second.

  Since the age of fourteen, Nate has been set in his ways, unforgivingly so, at times. There had been many times over the years we were friends, Nate and I had gone days without talking because I said or did something that offended his delicate sensibilities. Insert heavy doses of sarcasm here. I’d end up upsetting him to the point he would storm off pissed, and give me the silent treatment until he calmed down enough to either; forget about it, or discuss it rationally. The most memorable one of these times, was when I was thirteen. He believed I was risking my safety by running away from home, in hindsight, he was probably right, but at the time it felt like the only viable option.

  Nate had turned eighteen earlier that year, and had begun telling me what I could and couldn’t do more often, now that he was classified a legal adult. It happened just before he moved away for work, but he and I didn’t know that was in the cards then. At this point, Verity only seemed to be getting worse and worse with her pranks, turning more hurtful, and nastier than ever, if that was to be believed. The straw that broke the camels’ back, so to speak, was when Verity packed up all my painting supplies, while I was out skateboarding one afternoon, and threw it all in the trash. How she did it is still a mystery, there was a fucking hell of a lot of stuff in my collection.

  I didn’t realise until the next morning when I went to gather my supplies, finding them missing; I needed them for a painting I was working on, it was a special gift for Nate and I had planned to put a good couple of hours into it before doing my chores. She just smirked at me when I asked if she’d seen them, and happily told me if I was looking for them, I might want to check the waste collection station two towns over, because they were probably on their way there in the back of the garbage truck that left about an hour beforehand. I saw red…That was also the first and only time I’ve actually hit my sister.

  When mom and dad finally separated us, we were rolling around on the floor, pulling hair, scratching, and generally acting like hellcats. I must admit, I was pretty proud of myself. I had got one decent hit in giving her a black eye that lasted a good week, before they managed to pull us apart. She’d deserved that and more if you ask me. Our parents questioned us about what the hell we were fighting about, and through my tears I explained what Verity had done. Of course, they were angry and disappointed with her, but in the end all they did was replace my supplies, and give her a lecture about respecting other peoples’ privacy and belongings.

  What. The. Fuck? I was so furious, that I packed my larger backpack with clothes, a few toiletries, an extra pair of shoes, and the money I had managed to save, all $122.82 of it. I’m not sure how far I thought that would get me at the time, but I’m also certain that I wouldn’t have cared. Tucking my skateboard under my arm, I made my way out of the house as stealthily as an awkward teenager thirteen-year-old, could manage, and was half way down our street when Nate caught up with me. Apparently he said he’d saw me sneaking out of the house, and taking off down the street from his bedroom window at the front of their house. To say he was less than impressed, and more than a little angry with me, would have been the Universe’s BIGGEST understatement.

  Dragging me by the arm into his backyard, he sat me down on the patio, in the sun lounger, and began to yell at me about how stupid, dangerous, and selfish it was to run away from home. He asked me questions like, “How would your parents feel knowing you were gone and not knowing how to find you? How did I think I would live on the streets on my own? Anything could happen to me,” and the one that woke me up, hurting me the most was, “What would I do without you around all the time, what would I do without his best friend?” When Nate saw the tears running down my face, he realised he’d made his point, and that it was highly unlikely, I would be doing something stupid like that again. I would never want to hurt him, on purpose; I hoped he knew that. He’d been hurt enough during his life, he didn’t need me doing it to him as well. In my anger, I hadn’t even considered his feelings. What WOULD he do if I were gone?

  It was then, with tear stained face, and sobbing incoherent apologies that Nate scooped me up, and tucked me under his arm resting his head on top of mine.

  “Shhh, don’t cry, Ronnie. You just scared the shit out of me, is all. You can’t be doing stuff like that. It’d KILL me if something happened to you.” All I could do was continue to say, ‘Sorry,’ over and over, as I cried into his t-shirt. Nate didn’t ign
ore me completely, or give me the silent treatment after my little escapade, but he made it clear by his lack of conversation, that consisted of mainly one word answers or grunts, his decreased visits, and disappointed looks, that he wasn’t totally over what I’d done. I understood, but I hoped things would go back to normal between us soon. I missed my best friend.

  Three weeks later, I turned fourteen, and Nate wasn’t far off turning nineteen when he broke the stalemate between us, by adding a layer of tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. A layer that undoubtedly caused me many sleepless nights filled with worry, sadness, and despair. Nate told me that day, on my birthday, that he was leaving the next day. He was leaving Patterson. Leaving his job at the mechanic shop, and more importantly, to me anyway, he was leaving me. I can remember yelling at him, screaming that it wasn’t fair, I even told him he couldn’t go. Eventually, I broke down in tears, clutching at his shirt like a lifeline, as if holding on to him would stop him from leaving me. Calmly Nate explained that he just couldn’t stay here any longer. He didn’t want to leave me, and if he didn’t have to, he wouldn’t, but it wasn’t about me though, it was something he had to do for himself. It also wouldn’t hurt that he would be able to finally get away from his dad either.

  While his dad hadn’t hit him in the last year, probably because Nate was now over 220 pounds of solid muscle, six foot three, and had begun MMA training, Nate couldn’t keep living with his parents. Only working part-time, he wasn’t making enough money to get his own place, and having to come home to the clusterfuck that was his living situation, wasn’t realistic or healthy for anyone anymore. That didn’t have a lot of options open to him other than to leave and make a fresh start somewhere else. His dad was still angry, hateful, and bitter over being constantly out of work. What made it worse was him not having money available for the alcohol he was addicted to, and I’m sure was well on its way to pickling his liver by now. He constantly blamed Nate for being a drain on the family finances, regardless of the fact, that Nate gave his parents, more like his Dad, half of his weekly pay check to keep the house running. Nate’s mom still never stepped in, protected him, or did anything to stop the vicious tirades from the drunk, angry man so unhappy with his own situation that he felt the need to take it out on his own son. She did take the money Nate offered her every week, however.

  I knew Nate loved his mom, but any respect or admiration he had for her disappeared years ago. I could totally understand that, I would be sad and disappointed, too and I never blamed him for feeling the way he did. Occasionally Nate worried; he’d told me, that without him to bear the brunt of his dad’s anger, his fear was that his mom might become the human punching bag he had been serving as for years. Thankfully, up until now, that hadn’t happened, I hoped it never did, but no matter what, that shouldn’t stop him from going off to better his life.

  Sad, upset, angry; weren’t powerful enough words for the emotions I felt over his revelation that he was leaving. I was crushed Nate he was going even though I understood his motivation. I got it, I really did. I may have only been barely fourteen years old, but I knew what drove Nate to his decision, and I wanted the best for him. I honestly did, so if that meant supporting him in this, I would. It might just kill me slowly on the inside, but I’d do it for him.

  Apparently, the catalyst for the timing of this move was a friend that he went to high school with. Braydon, moved to Dallas, finding work at a high end, restoration and rebuild garage.

  Braydon called Nate telling him they were looking for someone with skills like his. He would be guaranteed a job as soon as he hit town, and it was excellent money for a guy that didn’t have formal training, or years of experience places like that usually require. Nate wasn’t stupid. He knew taking that job was his way out, and that opportunities like this one didn’t come along all the time, if ever for people in his situation.

  The D-day came just less than six weeks later, and it signalled the time for Nate to leave. He packed up his beat-up, Dodge pickup truck with a few mementos and personal items he had, and two duffle bags of clothes. That was all he was taking with him. His dad refused to let him take things like his bed or bedroom furniture, not that he would have enough space to take it all, but the offer would have been nice. The only reason he could take his truck, was because Nate had bought and paid for it with his own money, and his dad had no claim to it.

  Nate made sure to come past my house last, after saying a teary goodbye to his Mom, on her part, not Nate’s, and a cursory “See you,” to his dad first. My parents, who loved Nate like he was their own son, hugged him and gave him a thick envelope, telling him to open it when he was on the road. I already knew what was in it; I had contributed the little I could. My mom and dad had given him $2000 to help get him started on his journey. I added the $300 I’d made from babysitting on the weekends because I needed to feel like I was supporting his decision too.

  Verity gave Nate a hug that lasted an inappropriate amount of time, trying to kiss him on the mouth when he attempted to push her away. Thankfully she missed, Nate turned his head just in time, thank God. After prying her off him, he asked, more like told, me to walk him to his truck, taking my hand, pulling me along with him. At first I didn’t want to see him off. I wanted to stay inside where I wouldn’t have to say goodbye, buried under my pillow and blankets. That way, I wouldn’t have to stand on the sidewalk and watch him drive away. I might just be able to pretend it wasn’t happening if I hid away in my room. It wasn’t realistic, but leave a teenage girl her fantasies. I relented, following on my own steam in the end. I always relented when it came to Nate.

  Standing beside his truck, Nate hugged me tighter than he ever had before, literally squeezing the breath out of me. Inhaling deeply, he took a step back and held my small hands tightly in his bigger ones saying,

  “I’m going to miss you so much, Ronnie. I’ll come back to visit, as often as I can.” I was openly crying now, and I’m sure I looked pretty fucking frightening, too. I ugly cried. I was the definition, of the ‘ugly cry’. There’s no other explanation for it: snot, puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks the works.

  “Promise?” I asked in a small croaky voice.

  Nodding solemnly, more serious than I’d ever seen him, he replied, “I promise, Sunshine. I’ll call when I’m settled and have a number where you can reach me. I’ll call you all the time then too, Sunshine.” Searching my face to ensure I believed him, I couldn’t bear look at him knowing this was the last time I probably ever would. All I could do was drop my eyes to the driveway and sniffle back my tears.

  Tilting my chin, Nate regarded me for a minute before pulling me in for another hug. He didn’t say anything else, and neither did I. What could I say? Don’t go. Please don’t leave me; I tried all that already. Honestly, I was in no position to ask for anything from him, and certainly not any of those things. I was just a kid, and I also didn’t want to hold him back, it would be wrong to. No, I ultimately wouldn’t stop him from going. Nate deserved to go out and live a full life filled with great things and experiences. He deserved the opportunity to meet people that saw him for the wonderful, kind, caring man he’d grown into, despite his circumstances and horrible dad. Nate deserved everything good in life. Things he wouldn’t get here. Things I would only be keeping him from if I begged him to stay.

  He let me go after a few minutes; hoisting himself up into the cab of his truck, he gave me a pain filled glance before closing the door, shutting himself inside the cab. Turning the engine over, he reversed into the street and pulled away. He never looked back. He didn’t wave. There were no brake lights off in the distance to signal he might have stopped and turned around to come back. Just an empty street, and me with an even emptier feeling in the pit of my stomach. That was the last I heard, or saw Nate for the next four years.

  He never kept his promise to visit or call. He never sent a letter, a postcard. Nothing. I was unbelievably hurt at first, to the point it bordered on despair, later tha
t hurt morphed into anger. I was angry that he lied to me, and broke his promises. Angry he’d forgotten about me, so easily. I was even angrier that I must have meant so little to him that he could ignore our friendship. I was just fucking ANGRY about everything.

  Eventually, after about a year, I managed to reach a level of acceptance. Acceptance that he was probably busy living. That he’d undoubtedly met lots of interesting people, maybe even girls to date that were taking up his time now. That thought distressed me immensely, at first. I was possibly even a little jealous, okay, so I was a lot jealous, imagining all the girls that would get his time and attention. I knew I was only fifteen now but still; Nate was one of those boys that touched your heart and your soul. He was impossible to forget. Nate was also, more than likely, working a great deal. He loved what he did, and it showed. He put in extra hours at the mechanic shop here in town all the time, for no extra pay, just BECAUSE he loved it. Here at home, he used it as an escape, as an excuse not to have to go home. There, wherever he was now, I knew it was somewhere in Dallas, but Dallas was a big place so he would be like a needle in a haystack, he was probably enjoying the extra money the long hours would bring in. Being able to afford to buy himself nicer things than he’d ever been able to have while he was here was a luxury that he deserved.