by Aly Martinez
The first few days in the real world were excruciating. My mom was a bitch, and my dad was an idiot who was always up to some bullshit, most of which was illegal. Social services were there once again about Flint and Quarry. It was the same old song and dance, but this time, I had to deal with all of it without the escape that Eliza and our little apartment provided me.
I didn’t know how I forced myself to stay away. I started taking a different route to work so I didn’t have to pass that abandoned building every day. She could have been there . . . but she probably wasn’t. She was moving on, and I was floundering.
Boxing was the only thing that kept me sane. When I missed her, I worked out. When I needed her, I trained. And when the world became too much, I imagined her. Her smile. Her laugh. That one fucking freckle haunted me. Which only made me miss her, so I trained some more. My life was a never-ending cycle that both began and ended with On The Ropes—with Eliza.
However, my body could only take so much abuse. Ten hours was the max a kid could work at the gym, but I was easily putting in at least twenty-five hours a week. Slate started forcing me to leave each night. I would have rather been cleaning the jockstraps than go home though.
Three months after I left Eliza, I was laid off from my job at the construction company. Not only did I become hard up for money, I was suddenly overflowing with free time. It was a nightmare. I couldn’t pay the rent and had nothing but time to worry about it. Thankfully, a kid at the gym helped me get a job cleaning up at the auto repair shop where he worked. The money was okay, but I learned a ton from the mechanics. They helped me buy a piece-of-shit truck from a customer who couldn’t afford to fix it. It took months to get it running, but as I drove out of the parking lot in a truck that was completely mine, I felt like the biggest success on the planet.
After that, a whole world opened up for me. Being able to travel more than a mile from my house gave me a freedom I had never experienced before. Sure, there was public transportation, but when life went to hell in a handbasket, I didn’t have to check the bus schedule now. I could just hop in my truck and drive as far as my usually empty gas tank could take me.
That truck was the reason I ended up with my father the night when everything went wrong. The night when he turned on me and I left him for dead.
The same night Eliza saved me all over again.
I WAS STARTLED AWAKE BY a loud knock on my window. My heart began to pound from the surprise wake-up call, but as I managed to rouse my lagging mind to consciousness, I automatically knew who was on the other side. I could picture his straight, black hair barely sticking out from under the edges of a beanie and his hazel eyes—the ones that could stir something inside me with only a single glance. I could clearly envision the sexy grin that only tipped one side of his mouth while his thumb nervously toyed with his bottom lip in that way that drew the attention of every woman in a fifty-mile radius.
As I walked to the window, I ran through every possible excuse why I shouldn’t open it. Perhaps I should have gone back to bed and sent away him without another a backward glance. I wouldn’t though. Regardless that he had rejected me¸ I found myself absolutely unable to return the favor. Unfortunately, I was transparent because Till Page obviously knew that too.
“Doodle, open up,” he whispered from the other side of the glass.
“Till, it’s late. Go home,” I urged, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist opening it for much longer.
“I, um . . .” His words caught with uncharacteristic emotion.
“Till?”
“Please, Doodle.” His voice cracked, which shattered whatever imaginary resolve I was holding on to.
I threw back the curtains and pried the window open. Based on the way he sounded, I was fearful of what I would find on the other side. My suspicions were confirmed when I caught sight of his blood-soaked T-shirt.
“Oh my God, Till. Are you all right? Is that your blood?”
“No,” was his only response. My eyes raced over his body, looking for any possible injury, but with the exception of split knuckles, there wasn’t a mark on him.
“Get in here.” I stepped away to allow him room to crawl inside.
“No,” he repeated with glazed over eyes. He leaned in only far enough to grab my hips and drag me out the window.
“What the hell are you doing?” I cried out as he carried me to a beat-up pickup truck.
He didn’t answer as he placed me on the seat and slammed the door closed behind me. Till might have been there physically, but his mind was lost somewhere else.
Just as he slid behind the wheel, his empty eyes swung to mine.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
“I need you,” he said desperately.
“Then I’m here.” I reached over to squeeze his arm, but it did nothing to relax his tense, straining body. “Whose blood is that?”
He swallowed hard then shook his head in response.
It wasn’t enough though. “Please. You have to give me something here. I haven’t seen you in six months, and tonight, you showed up at my window covered in blood. I’m scared,” I said quietly, so as not to spook him. This wasn’t my rock, Till. This was a virtually unrecognizable, nervous boy.
“I’ll tell you at the apartment,” he muttered, and a pang of guilt stole my breath.
“No. Tell me here,” I demanded. “I’m not leaving.”
“At the apartment,” he repeated.
“There was nothing in that apartment but me and you. So we’re already there. Close your eyes.” I reached over and folded my hand over his.
He immediately opened his hand and intertwined our fingers. “I just want to go home, Doodle.” His voice broke as he leaned over, resting his head in my lap like he had done so many times before.
I went to work running my fingers through his hair, scratching his head in the way I knew would soothe him—but it didn’t this time. His huge body crawled even closer, wrapping both arms around me to hug my legs.
“Talk to me,” I urged again.
“No. You talk. I want to hear you while I still can.”
While I still can.
His words began to ricochet through my ears like a stray bullet fired from an unknown gun. They had been intended to be innocent, but they were deadly to me. They showed me that he wasn’t planning to stay this time either. This was but a brief stop for Till. Claiming whatever he needed at the moment before casting me aside yet again. My pulse began to race. I needed to be there for him, but who was going to be there for me when he walked away all over again? Where was he when I needed him?
“You’re the one who left, Till. I wouldn’t have gone anywhere.” I swung the door open and climbed out of his grasp. Then I hurried back to my apartment, wishing this were all just a nightmare and that he had stayed gone.
I heard his footsteps on the sidewalk behind me.
“Doodle! Please!”
I ignored him and kept moving toward my front door—my only refuge from the painful world without Till.
“Please,” he continued to beg behind me, and that single syllable destroyed me. “I just need to go home tonight.”
Funny, I wanted to go home too. I’d wanted that for a long fucking time though.
My temper slipped and tears sprung to my eyes. I spun around to face him, and he stilled just two steps away.
“There is no apartment, Till. I called the city and told them people were squatting in it. They cleared it out, gutted it, and then boarded it up tight. I sat in the parking lot and watched them do it. It’s fucking gone!” I took great pleasure in watching the words hit him like physical blows.
Yeah, kicking him while he was so obviously down shouldn’t have felt good, but it eased the pain I had been living with. It was about time that someone else lived with that shit. I was exhausted.
“No. No, no, no, no, no.” He stumbled backward before rushing forward. “Why would you do that?” he breathed before repeating it on a roar. “Why w
ould you do that!”
“I needed it to disappear!” I screamed through my tears. “Just like you did.” I sobbed, reliving the morning of waking up without him all over again.
“That wasn’t yours to take away!” he exploded into the otherwise silent night. His words echoed off the surrounding buildings, each wave slicing me to the quick all over again. “That was our place. Not yours.” His voice cracked right alongside my heart.
“Yeah, well, there was a lot of stuff that wasn’t yours to take either.” I held his gaze, desperately trying to be strong, but as his eyes grew wide, I whimpered.
His long legs strode forward, and he stopped only inches away from me. He was crowding me, but he still leaned in closer to my face. “There is nothing in this world that was ever more mine than you,” he stated.
Though it was the absolute truth, I wished with all my heart that it were a lie.
“Till,” I cried, swiping the tears from my eyes.
“Why!” he shouted, causing his muscles to tense under the force. “Goddammit! I needed that place.”
Porch lights flashed on from the surrounding apartments, illuminating not only the dark, but also my rage.
I shoved my hands against his chest. “What about what I needed? You left! I waited in that fucking apartment for weeks.”
He didn’t budge, but my bare feet slipped, sending me toward the ground. Impossibly fast, Till’s hand snaked out and caught my arm. But I didn’t let his chivalrous gesture douse my fire. I had six months’ worth of words to say to the man I was irrevocably in love with.
“You took what you wanted. Then you left me.”
“Doodle,” he whispered.
I had been perilously close to the edge of insanity, and with one single word, he’d pushed me over.
I lost it completely.
Pounding my fists against his chest, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “It’s Eliza! My name is fucking Eliza! Not Doodle!” I spun to march away, but Till’s arms folded around me, lifting me off my feet to restrain me.
I was miniscule compared to him. There was no use in fighting, but I still kicked my legs, irrationally desperate to get away from him—but only because I knew I couldn’t keep him for forever.
“Stop it!” he growled into my ear. “I know your goddamned name—probably better than I know my own.”
While I was wrapped in Till’s strong arms, six months’ worth of tears fell from my eyes. He carried me to my apartment and guided me back, through the window before following me inside. Then he stripped out of his blood-soaked shirt before dragging the blankets down and climbing into the bed behind me. I cried for a while in his arms, even turning to face him, only to cry against his chest. I had missed him so much.
I knew I’d loved Till years ago, but this was more. I needed him in order to function on a very basic level. Together, the world didn’t feel so big and overwhelming. He was my escape—the dream personified.
Till Page was comfortable.
His hands trailed up and down my back as he lulled me until the words fought their way out.
“I couldn’t stop going back,” I announced in a broken whisper. “I didn’t know where you had gone. And for the first time since I was thirteen, I was alone inside my own head. God. It was a scary place.” I tried to joke, but the tears streaming down my face told the truth.
“I’m sorry,” he responded on a sigh. “I couldn’t stay.”
“Why?” I whined, but I curled in closer against his chest, needing to feel him more than anything else.
“I don’t know, Doodle,” he lied.
God! It was such a fucking lie. He knew as well as I did. He just didn’t want to tell me.
“Where did you go?” I pressed further.
There was no way I ever could have expected his answer, but that wasn’t because it was a novel thought. No. His answer was surprising because it was the source of my anguish too.
“The real world.” He kissed my forehead.
“Right.” I abruptly sat up, drying my eyes. “That’s exactly why this hurts. We could have gone together. But you made that choice for both us. I would have given absolutely anything to be in the real world with you.”
“You don’t understand.” He began toying with his bottom lip. “Doodle, you’re not real to me.”
To date, it was the most hurtful thing anyone had ever said to me. The tears instantly dried, and an unlikely smile crossed my mouth.
Yeah. That stings like the real world.
“Get out,” I ordered. For the first time ever, I truly, and rationally, wanted him gone from my life. No one, including my parents, could have hurt me more than he had with those five words.
He squeezed me impossibly tight.
“No. Listen to me.”
“Get. Out,” I told his chest through gritted teeth, as I lay tense in his arms. I was no longer returning his embrace; I was no longer returning anything.
“You’ve never once asked me why I was crying that first day when we met,” he said randomly, and I tried to wiggle my way out of his arms. He threw a leg over my thighs to lock me in even tighter.
“Let me go!” I began to thrash against him.
He never did follow direction well. Instead, he told me a story.
“The school sent a note home asking my parents to have my hearing tested. Apparently, a few of the teachers had noticed that I didn’t always respond when they called my name. It took three weeks for my mom to get off her lazy ass and take me to see someone. I failed the hearing test with flying colors.” He laughed, and it enraged me. I didn’t want to walk down memory lane.
“Let me go,” I demanded once again.
“Nope.” He kissed the top of my head. “The doctor did a few tests before telling us that my hearing loss was sensorineural and would cause me to eventually go deaf.”
I stilled as my heart dipped in my chest from his matter-of-fact announcement.
“He said it just like that, too. It was quick and to the point, no fluff. I guess you get what you pay for, and unfortunately for me, we were at the free clinic.” He laughed again, but my stomach ached.
“Was he right?” I asked with a wince, not wanting to hear the answer.
“Yeah,” he confirmed, causing me to gasp. “When I was thirteen, I was hearing at around eighty percent, and they predicted it would go downhill pretty steadily.”
“But you’re not . . .” I trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.
“It could take years. It all depends on my rate of degeneration. The clinic sent us to a specialist, but in true Mommy Dearest fashion, she asked what the point of seeing a specialist was if there wasn’t any way to prevent me from going deaf. I can still vividly remember her checking her watch as she spoke to the doctor. She must have had somewhere else to be that was more interesting than listening to the diagnosis that would forever change my life.”
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“As soon as we walked out of that doctor’s office, she told me she needed me to keep my brothers because she had plans that day. Plans. Fucking plans!” His voice rose for the very first time during his recount. “It would have hurt if I hadn’t already known what a self-centered bitch she was.”
My hands found purchase on the muscles on his back, and I pulled him impossibly closer. It was all I had to offer.
“So as soon as we got home, I dashed from the car and took off through the apartments, climbing through the first window I came to. That’s when I found you. At first, I kept coming back because I thought you were funny and you distracted me from the world that kept spinning under my feet.”
“Every girl’s dream—a distraction,” I snarked against his chest, but if he heard me, I couldn’t be sure.
He continued. “But then it became a place where I wasn’t bound by my life outside. Inside the four walls of that shitty apartment, I got to be whoever I wanted. I wasn’t poor or going deaf. Social services weren’t beating down our door, nor were the cops lookin
g for my dad. I was always met with a smile and a sense of belonging. It was you. We had an entirely separate life there. Together, we kept it clean. I made sure we always had power and you made sure I didn’t starve. That was a hell of a lot more than I got at home. You took care of me, and with what little I had, I took care of you.”
I was still mad as hell, but he was speaking the language of longing and acceptance I understood, and that’s the only reason I nuzzled my head against him.
“So, Doodle. I fucked up that last night together. I took the risk and merged fantasy into reality.”
My body immediately stiffened, but I was unsure which term had hurt more. Who I wanted to be to Till was still a mystery even to me.
With a slide of his hand over my throat, he guided my eyes to find his. “So I decided to walk away from you before you could walk away from me when you realized what a fuckup I was in the real world.” His lips lingered close to mine, but it wasn’t the good kind. It was the torturous kind.
If I were given the choice with Till, I’d take real life every. Single. Time.
“I am well aware what a fuckup you are,” I said, and I felt him flinch. “Did you ever think that maybe I felt the same way about you? My parents couldn’t have given two shits about me, but I knew you did. I knew you would always be there. You might be late, you might smell like Rochelle Lane’s cheap-ass perfume, you might be in a shitty mood, but you would be there. Then, one day, you weren’t. I sat in that apartment night after night for two months. Most of the time, I just stared at the window, willing it to suddenly open.”
“Jesus. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know where else to go tonight. I needed the fantasy back.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said, and he began to roll away. “Stop. Just listen to me. I’ve put my life back together the last few months. I’ve moved on in the real world. I don’t want to go back to the fantasy. Not even to be with you.” I felt his shoulders fall. “But if you want to join me here, I’m okay with that.”
“I don’t even know where to start being there with you.” He sucked in a breath, releasing it on a vibrato.
