Ache

by P. J. Post

  She’s watching me, clutching the doorframe and resting her face against her hands. She looks lost too.

  Maybe I’m wrong and Tonya’s right.

  Maybe I’m not a worthless piece of shit.

  Maybe I’m not that ugly little boy anymore?

  I remember how my rage rolled up my spine that night in the tunnel with Annie, and I feel a similar feeling now, but it’s not rage. It’s unfamiliar, but I know what it is.

  I look up at the clouds and close my eyes against the rain as it splatters against my face.

  Maybe I can forgive myself, eventually?

  Every moment with Tonya over the last few months rushes through my mind again, every jest, every smile, everything she said and every touch. Maybe I’m wrong about a lot of things. And what does good enough even mean? Maybe it’s something we have to work at, something to prove to ourselves everyday. Maybe being good enough is something that can only be judged in hindsight?

  And then I wonder if two broken people can fix each other and wonder if they want to try?

  Fuck it.

  I open my eyes and stare back at Tonya and I almost say it.

  I almost call her Bethany.

  I almost tell her everything.

  I almost tell her I love her.

  She pushes away from the doorframe in anticipation, like she knows I’m about to say something important, maybe it was the look in my eyes.

  A few of days ago in the bathroom at the Garage she said sometimes things change fast. Her life changed so fast she almost ended it. If she knows that I know she’s really Bethany, then we’re going to talk about the night we met and most importantly why I didn’t call. There’s going to be questions, and then she’ll probably try to explain what happened to her again, like she did a few minutes ago.

  But she’s not ready for that conversation yet; if she was, we’d have already discussed it. It’s wrong to put her in that situation now, before she’s ready. I pray to God we can fix each other and I hope we get that chance, but I know we’re not going to do it in one afternoon.

  We stare at each other and then I reach out with my arms and motion her over.

  She pauses, looking reluctant, but then she meets my eyes and steps out from under the awning.

  I watch her ignore the puddles and the rain as she walks to me.

  She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  She’s my friend and she’s the woman I love, but I can’t tell her and it’s already beginning to tear me up inside. I never had a secret like this, a secret I want to share with anyone who’ll listen, especially Tonya. But I can’t — not yet. I have to bury it deep inside along with my rage.

  I fell in love with Tonya over the last few months, but she’s also that amazing girl I met two years ago. She’s the fantasy become flesh — my salvation.

  But I have a responsibility to protect her from my bullshit. If she’s ever going to love me, like I think she can, like I pray she will, I’m going to have to get my shit together first.

  She stops in front of me and just stares into my eyes. Her t-shirt is soaked through and I can see her underwear in contrast to her skin. She doesn’t seem to care. Those big brown eyes of hers are more intense now than when she took out Debbie at the Laundromat and they feel like they are staring into my soul.

  She lays her hands on my bare chest and then leans her forehead against me.

  I wrap my arms around her and lay my face against her wet hair.

  I swear I can feel her heart beating fast and strong — insistent.

  And then, just like two years ago, she stands on her tip-toes and studies my face for a moment and then kisses me on the corner of my mouth. Her lips are as soft as I remember, like a whisper, a ghost of a kiss. I can feel myself suddenly trembling, everything tingling at once.

  I’m so fucking sick of secrets.

  Thus ends Ache, Book One of the Punk Series

  Look for Scar, Book Two of the Punk Series in spring of 2014.

  Author’s Notes

  I was going to say I hope you enjoyed reading this story, but I’m not sure if enjoyed is the right word, since much of the book was on the darker side. So instead I’ll say, I hope you connected with the story in some way and were excited for Connor, hopeful for his future and look forward to hearing more about him, his friends (especially Tonya, huh?) and the early 1980’s. Which means, I also hope you are looking forward to the next book — SCAR, where anything can happen and I fear it just might.

  I’m truly enjoying writing this series, as emotionally trying as it may get at times, because I do believe in second chances. No matter how bad it gets, or was, good things can happen to good people, even if they don’t know how good they are.

  I was originally planning on three books for the series, but now I’m not so sure. Don’t be surprised if there are quite a few more books because there are quite a few more stories yet to tell. I’ll be sure to let you know as the saga unfolds.

  I also tried to give a glimpse of what the early 80’s were like in general and the punk aesthetic specifically, but nothing can replace the music for demonstrating the intensity of that time. I encourage everyone to listen to this music. Even all these years later, it might just change your life. All those years ago, it changed mine and even now continues to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, but not at the expense of limiting my dreams.

  P.J. Post

  December 18, 2013

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, bands, clubs, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.