His Own Way Out

by Taylor Saracen

  “You bring people back to your air mattress?” Greg teased.

  “It’s better than the couch I was sleeping on before,” he said, leaning over to pick his glasses up off the nightstand.

  “How do I look?”

  “Better before.”

  “Asshole,” Greg laughed, shaking his head.

  “You animals should lock your door. Anybody can walk right in.”

  “I see that now.”

  “Do you know any good places for breakfast?”

  “That depends on if you’re buying or not,” Blake replied.

  “So, I drive an hour to see you and then get the honor of paying for your meal?”

  “Honor of my company,” Blake corrected, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head with an exaggerated groan. “Shit. What time is it anyway?” He glanced at his phone screen. “It’s seventy-thirty, you prick! Who wakes up at seven-thirty on Saturday morning?”

  “I was up at six to get ready and get here by seven-thirty. I’m productive as fuck. You gotta get like me, B.”

  “If getting like you means I have to get up at the ass-crack of dawn, I’ll hold off on that,” Blake decided. “I’ll jump in the shower and then we can go.”

  “I want biscuits.”

  “You just looked at my butt and said that,” Blake pointed out with a smirk.

  “You’re a monster,” Greg stated, placing his hands behind his head. “Hurry up. I’m hungry.”

  Making his way to the bathroom, Blake expedited his morning routine as his stomach rumbled at the thought of a hearty breakfast sponsored by his best friend. By the time he was done, Greg had migrated from his bed to the living room couch.

  “That shit’s uncomfortable, man,” he tsked as Blake put on his University of Kentucky hoodie. “Your back will be wrecked if you keep sleeping on it.”

  “You’re really worried about this bed shit,” Blake laughed. “I’m fine. My back’s fine. The only thing that’s not fine is my stomach since you mentioned biscuits.”

  “I Yelped a few restaurants around here, and a place called ‘Josie’s’ looks promising.”

  “What’re you a fifty-year-old woman? Who Yelps shit?”

  “People who like good meals and dislike food poisoning. I go to the one-star ratings and word search ‘poisoning’ before I eat anywhere,” Greg explained.

  Blake froze in place to stare at his friend, searching for words that would properly express how fucking crazy he thought the statement was. When he couldn’t come up with any, he shook his head slowly and uttered. “Come on.”

  “I like your sweatshirt,” Greg noted as he and Blake ambled down Richmond toward Josie’s.

  “I’ve been wearing this one for years,” Blake reminded him.

  “I like it better now than I did before.”

  “Hmm,” Blake hummed, lighting a cigarette and offering one to Greg, who took it and asked, “Do you want to know why?”

  “I thought it was just because you were weird,” Blake reasoned, grinning at Greg.

  “I got in.”

  “To UK?” Blake questioned, stopping dead in his tracks to process the news. “You’re going to UK?”

  A wide smile brightened Greg’s full face. “Yup. I was on the waiting list and I found out yesterday that it’s a full acceptance.”

  “Wow,” Blake breathed, closing his eyes for a moment as the early morning spring breeze fanned through his hair. Pulling up his hoodie, he reached out to shake his friend’s hand. “Congratulations, Greg. That’s incredible.”

  “My student loans are going to be bananas, but I’m looking forward to it. I’m proud of myself, you know?”

  Blake nodded. He didn’t, but he wanted to. While he was glad to have a job, he was hardly proud of his position at the shady shit shack where he worked. Greg was going to college, better yet, to UK, exactly where Blake had imagined himself attending. When wrestling was going well, Blake thought that he might have the chance at a scholarship, but those hopes were dashed long before his college dreams were. Though he tried, it was difficult for Blake to ignore the pangs of jealousy that poked his heart and made him feel like an asshole. “You should be.”

  “After you get your GED this summer you can apply for second semester,” Greg suggested, as they began to stroll again.

  Blake punched out a wry laugh. “Oh yeah! There’s no doubt they would accept a guy with a GED and two high school expulsions under his belt. That ship has sailed, hit a reef, capsized and caught on fire.”

  “You really went hard on that analogy,” Greg praised.

  “Idiom,” Blake informed him. “It’s an idiom, not an analogy.”

  “This is why they’ll take you, because you’re smart.”

  Blake shrugged and focused on the nicotine he was pulling into his lungs.

  They walked quietly for a few moments, until Greg remarked. “You’re doing much better than your buddy Nick.”

  “What’s going on with Nick?”

  It had been so long since they’d spoken. While he liked Nick, it had been obvious to Blake after the car wreck that if he was going to turn things around, he needed to cut ties with him.

  “He’s in prison.”

  “No shit,” Blake gasped. Though he wasn’t entirely surprised by the news, considering he always figured Nick would wind up incarcerated, it was crazy to think he was actually in prison, doing time. “What did he do?”

  “I think it was initially going to be solely a drug charge, but then the idiot supposedly resisted arrest and swung at an officer.”

  “Fuck, that’s dumb, even for Nick.”

  “Your boy,” Greg ribbed, earning a middle finger salute from Blake.

  “You’re my boy,” he stated as they entered Josie’s. The smell of bacon and syrup instantly had Blake’s mouth watering.

  “I’m more like your bitch. You order me around and I drove sixty miles to take you to breakfast.”

  “You said it, not me,” Blake laughed, slapping his friend on the back.

  “I’ve come to terms with what I am,” Greg relented. “I own it like you own me.”

  “The drama...fuck,” Blake chuckled, dodging the ear flick Greg tried to deliver. “Quit it.”

  “Table for two?” the hostess asked, her expression indicating she was unimpressed by their horseplay.

  They nodded and followed her to a booth where she tossed the menus down and walked away.

  “I think I’m that cranky at White Knight Pizza,” Blake noted, sliding into the seat.

  “I have no doubts,” Greg said, taking his phone out of his pocket and typing feverishly.

  “Are you fighting with somebody?” Blake asked, taken aback by his intensity.

  “No. I’m making a list for my review.”

  “You write reviews, too?” Blake questioned, eyes wide.

  “Of course I do,” Greg replied easily.

  Blake shook his head with amusement. Of course he did.

  23

  Blake had to wait until mid-June to take his GED, but he’d committed himself to taking a few classes at the library in preparation. After completing the test, Blake realized how unnecessary the brief preparation course had been. Not only had he done well, he’d completely annihilated it, which only made him wonder how he would have done on the SATs. He wanted his constant comparison of where he was and where he should have been to dissipate, but the thoughts never waned. Instead, his perseverance became more overpowering with every benchmark he reached. It was as if none of his achievements would ever be enough because of how far off-track he’d drifted. He knew he needed to come to terms with the change in path but working a low-paying job with not much to look forward to in terms of advancement made a positive spin impossible. While Bianca, Greg, and even his mom were praising his accomplishments, Blake couldn’t see beyond his deficits. He needed to shift his perspective and go easier on himself, but he feared that in doing so he would revert back to old patterns. Maybe if he remained harsh on hims
elf, he would continue to rise above the pervading feeling that nothing mattered now that he’d pissed away his chance at a high school diploma.

  Greg continued to tell Blake that a GED didn’t limit him from going to college in the future, but it was difficult for Blake to consider the cost of community college tuition with the amount of money he pulled in at White Knight Pizza. He needed to be on the other side of Tony’s business model, the non-pizza portion where some big deals were going down. While the thought of easy money was appealing, Blake didn’t want to do anything illegal. He was over getting into any type of trouble. He needed to stay legit, not only for his future, but for his present. He couldn’t look in the mirror and continue to see how his disappointing decisions clouded his face. He wanted to see himself for who he knew he could be, not who he had been.

  Nobody had given Blake a second-chance. In all of the situations when the book was thrown at him, there had been no benefit of a doubt or a warning. He’d always gotten the full extent of the punishment. He was the only person who would ever allow himself a second-chance, and still he obstructed his own path. Perhaps it had all happened how it did to test him. The universe’s way to strengthen his resolve, to fill his spinal column with steel. He needed to be fiercer than his fear of constant failure. Knowing that was the majority of the battle. He didn’t want to stop fighting for his future, to stop believing that he had the chance to have one that could be full of success.

  “You’ve come so far,” Grace told him after he called to tell her how his test had gone.

  “You thought I’d be further by now. That I’d be headed to college, wrestling, doing a lot more than I’m doing now,” Blake contested, rubbing his knuckle against his nostril as he sniffed away from the phone.

  “Blake,” she chided. “You’re doing what you can with what you have. You’re ambitious and driven. You’ll get past all of this and make something of yourself. I know you will. I never doubted you once.”

  He laughed wetly at the assertion. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You doubted me plenty junior year.”

  “I doubted who you’d become, but never who I knew you were.”

  The statement had Blake wondering if his mom was smoking weed, but her aversion to all things fun assured him that wasn’t the case. “That’s deep, Mom.”

  “I have my moments.”

  “Don’t we all,” Blake muttered, letting his eyes climb the skyscraper in his vision line. The spire cut the blue sky, but the clouds remained whole, forming around the intrusion rather than fleeing.

  “When are you going to come for a visit? I miss you. You’re only an hour away but it feels like worlds.”

  “Soon,” Blake promised, sure that he wouldn't follow through. Going back to Unionville was returning to a past he didn’t want to claim, at least not yet. “You can come up here, too. I’ll take you to dinner.”

  “You will?” Grace asked. He could tell she was smiling.

  “I will. I make a few bucks. Literally, like, a few. I’ll spend them on you.”

  “I’m honored, but I wouldn’t let you.”

  “I mean, I’m not going to beg,” Blake chuckled.

  “I didn’t imagine you would, my stubborn boy.”

  “How’s your other boy?”

  “Logan’s good,” Grace answered. “He’s still working at the garage and he’s close to becoming a full-fledged mechanic.”

  “That’s great,” Blake remarked. “Is he still with the girl with the kid?”

  “He is. Brianna,” she confirmed. “And his name is Owen and he’s such a sweet kid. You’d really like him. You’ve always been so great with kids.”

  Unsure of what to say, Blake remained silent. Life was flying by him. Streaks of neon light stretching down endless corridors while he stood in the center of an empty hallway, motionless.

  “It’s crazy. If they get married, I’ll be a step-Grandma. Can you imagine? A step-Grandma at my age?”

  “How old are you again?” Blake teased.

  “You’re supposed to say based on looks alone you couldn’t fathom it,” Grace chided playfully.

  “I didn’t get the memo, and I haven’t seen you in a while. I’m guessing I gave you some grey hairs over the past year.”

  “Oh plenty. I also have four new wrinkles with your name on them,” she informed. “So maybe step-Grandma status isn’t such a stretch.”

  “I’m sure you look great.”

  “If you come for a visit you can see how wrong you are.”

  “I love seeing how wrong I am,” Blake joked. “I do it often.”

  “You know what I mean,” Grace said with a click of her tongue. “Really. I’d love for you to come for dinner on one of your nights off.”

  His mother was persistent. Every time they spoke on the phone they had the same discussion, multiple times, in one conversation. It had come to the point where her pleas went in one ear and out the other. He could only take so much, especially about a topic that made him so uncomfortable.

  “It’s easier for you to come to Lexington like you did before. You have a car,” he reminded.

  “I’ll absolutely come to the city, but you should consider coming to Unionville. You can’t stay away forever.”

  “Who said anything about forever?” Blake sighed, aggravated with himself that he felt compelled to avoid his hometown.

  “All I’m saying is that it’s been a while, Blake.”

  “I get it. Like I said, I’ll come home soon, for Thanksgiving or something.”

  “Thanksgiving is in…" Grace paused to count, “five months. How about we aim for before then?”

  “Alright,” Blake sighed. “Listen, I’m about to walk into work. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay, honey. Have a good night and be safe.”

  “Slinging pizzas?”

  “Doing whatever you do,” Grace asserted. “Slinging pizzas, walking home at night, hanging around with people...just be safe.”

  Blake uttered “goodbye,” shoved his phone into his pocket, and pulled open the door to White Knight Pizza.

  “You’re late,” Tony grunted as Blake hung his backpack on a hook in the kitchen and put his apron on.

  “No, I’m not,” Blake contested, pointing to the clock on the wall. “It’s four-forty-five and I’m scheduled for five o’ clock.”

  “Oh, well, good on you for being on time.”

  With that, he disappeared into his office, where he’d no doubt spend the rest of the evening receiving a smattering of suspicious visitors who barely looked Blake in the eye when they entered the shop.

  “You’re on phones and register tonight,” Alfonzo stated.

  Blake nodded, hung the apron back on its hook and walked to the front counter where he planted his ass on the stool and waited for the hours to drag by.

  Sometime after ten, he answered the phone and heard a familiar voice attempting to disguise itself with an awful Australian accent.

  “’ello, mate! How are you doin’ on this fine evenin’?”

  “You’re already wasted, and I’m jealous,” Blake told Bianca, who huffed in response.

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “That accent was horrible,” he laughed. “I thought you were working tonight, too?”

  “Nope. I’m off, and McKenna is over.”

  “Nice.”

  “We’re hungry. What time are you done?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Awesome. Bring home a pizza please.”

  “Is this an official order or a roommate request?”

  “I don’t want to pay for the thing,” Bianca clarified. “If I wanted to pay, I’d call Pies and Pints and get something good.”

  “What’s in it for me?” Blake asked, knowing full well he was going to bring his friend the pizza.

  “Two cans of Bud and a big fat blunt, which exceeds the value of your pizza exponentially,” she replied, reverting to her accent again.

  Blake heard McKenna tell he
r girlfriend, “You don’t even sound Australian. You sound like a Southerner attempting to do a shitty British accent.”

  “It doesn’t turn you on?” Bianca asked. The question was followed by giggling and the sound of the phone sliding against skin.

  “I’ll bring it home,” Blake said, though he suspected they’d already forgotten about the call.

  “That sounded like a personal call,” Alfonzo called from the kitchen. “You know what they say about personal calls, right? Have them on your own time.”

  Blake nodded, biting his tongue to keep the words, “you know what they say about money laundering,” contained. White Knight Pizza sucked, but it was a steady trickle of money and he needed the job. He kept his head down, his mouth shut, and his stomach full of shitty pizza, and for the time being, it was enough.

  24

  Blake didn’t think his job at White Knight Pizza could get any worse, and then came autumn. As co-eds descended on Lexington for the new school year, Blake’s hours and the demands of the job increased. The counter was constantly crowded with drunk teenagers attempting to pay for their pizza with crumpled bills and gum, and he was over it. It wasn’t that Blake couldn’t handle their antics, that part was fine. There was something about University of Kentucky students scraping their last dollars together to buy crappy pizza from a possible mob cover that rubbed him the wrong way. Everything Tony and Alfonso did pissed him off. They were growing more acerbic by the day and Blake was having a hard time remaining pleasant toward them. Most of the time, he kept his mouth shut, but there were moments when it was painful not to snap back at them.

  The idea of searching for a new job seemed overwhelming considering his lack of desire to commit to another low-income, dead-end position. Chances were, he’d grow to despise another place as much as he did White Knight Pizza. Still, it was difficult to take pride in a company that didn’t take any pride in themselves. Prior to the pizza shop, Blake hadn’t had much work experience, so he’d never known how important it was to feel like there was some purpose behind what he was doing, that he was learning useful skills or somehow bettering himself. The only thing he was doing was rotting.