10
Raine
"Are you in trouble?" I ask Haven as she hoists herself into my truck.
"Nah, Paula won't say anything if she assumes something. I'll be okay," she tells me. "Let's leave."
I put the truck in drive and ease away from the curb. "You sure about this?”
"Yes. Go now, before someone else pulls into my driveway." She waves her hands around, urging me to go faster.
"Okay, okay. Geez, girl, where do you want to go?"
"Um, I guess somewhere we don't have to worry about flooding." With a cute little smirk, she glances over at me with a gentle smile.
I drive us to the same spot we went to over a month ago, to the edge of the woods that lead to the secluded lake. The land is elevated over here, and the water level on the unmarked path won't make it hard to get to the dock. Now that the rain has stopped and the sun has come out, the humidity level is higher than normal and moderately uncomfortable. "You sure you're not going to be in trouble later?" I ask her.
"I won't be in trouble," she promises. "I think I remember how to get to the dock." She takes the lead through the woods and heads in the exact the direction I took her the one other time we came here. Good memory. It takes us less than ten minutes to descend the hill near the dock, which is elevated about a foot higher than normal, but it is clear from the runoff. As I roll my freshly dried pants up to my knees, I glance over at Haven, finding the very same smile on her face that she had the first time I brought her here.
"You really like this place, huh?"
"I like the peacefulness," Looking over at her, I see contentment shining through her eyes, highlighting exactly what she just said.
Haven walks to the end of the dock and sits down on the wet boards without concern. Slipping her tall, teal rain boots off one at a time, she places them off to the side. I take the spot beside her and remove my boots as well. There's a slight breeze from the water here, and it's minimizing the humidity a touch.
"Have you ever felt so trapped, you couldn't think of more than one way to solve your problem?" Each of her words slowly melts into an understanding I would never want to have about her.
"What do you mean?" I don't want you to say what I think you mean. Your life isn't as bad as you think it is.
She shrugs, "I don't know. I just don't like to feel so stuck all of the time."
"You're not stuck," I argue.
"I am stuck until I’m done with school."
"Then what? How will you become unstuck at that point?"
She peers over at me, cupping her hand over her forehead to hide the sun from her hazel eyes. "I'm getting the hell away from here. As far as I can go, that's where I'll be."
I lean back into the palms of my hands, alleviating some of the stress from my shoulders. "I've thought about that too."
"You can do it now," she tells me.
Instead of giving her a list of reasons as to why I'm stuck here, I give her a slight nod with a matching smile. "Sure."
"Where do you sleep every night?" she asks. Her question comes out of left field, and I wish we could drop the homeless conversation for good, but I know she won't give this up until she has a full understanding of my situation.
"I find different places," I tell her.
"Do you ever sleep here on the dock?" she replies.
"I have."
"That must be soothing...sleeping under the stars, listening to the frogs and crickets sing together." It is nice. It's as great as my life can get right now. "I'd like to sleep here."
"I don't know. Sleeping outside isn't all it's cracked up to be," I tell Haven. It was freeing the first night, but every night following, it felt like…it feels like…I’m homeless.
Haven lays back, resting her arms beneath her head, basking in the abundant heat from the sun. She closes her eyes, and a smile pinches on both sides of her mouth.
"I'll be okay. I'm sleeping here tonight," Haven says, as if it's the best idea she's ever had.
Hating to burst her thought bubble, I tell her, "Come on, you know that's not a good idea." It's a terrible idea.
"I don't care. Maybe this could be a solution to my imprisonment—a better one than I've considered before." I'm beginning to see how much more troubled she is than I had assumed. "Will you stay here with me?"
"Won't your parents come looking for you?" I ask her.
"They won't find me."
"Haven, this is not the answer." Her thoughts are making me nervous. They would go looking for her, and they won't stop until they find her. The entire town would likely get involved, especially with the assumptions everyone has made about the mentally ill daughter of Mayor Leigh.
"You don't have to stay with me. It's okay, but I'm staying here tonight," she says with a sigh. "You know what the best part is? My parents probably won't even know I'm gone."
Needing a minute to clear my head and think, I pull my shirt off and slip my jeans down before hopping off the edge of the dock to swim a few laps.
As my concerns subside, I make my way back to the dock and rest my arms on the boards in front of Haven's feet. "No swimming for you today?"
"Not after last time," she says with little emotion. I iced her. I teased her without the intention of doing so. The second before I nearly devoured her lips, I considered every possible consequence, but the problem is, I've slowly fallen for Haven over the course of the summer, and it was beyond my control. Control has been a strength in my life these past few years, but she's breaking me down.
"I think we've moved past that," I tell her.
"Are you afraid of what being with me could cause?" Despite giving her several other reasons why I'm not biting her bait, she's right. Being caught with her could ruin my life.
"It isn't you I'm afraid of, Haven. You have to understand that."
"I know," she says. She can’t possibly understand.
I hoist myself up on the dock, dripping wet, and lay back with her, knowing I'll dry within minutes. Without much of an argument left about our past, present, or future, silence encases us within the sounds of the surrounding trees brushing against each other through the breeze. It's the only noise to be heard back here, and it's nice.
Within minutes, I hear Haven's breaths elongate and soften, so I shift to my side, finding her asleep with the smallest smile pinned across her lips. I place my arm over her stomach and scoot in closer, lowering my head into the crook between her shoulder and cheek. I breathe in her sweet flowery fragrance, and it's like aromatherapy after going so long without inhaling something so nice.
Living with Granddad all those years, our house was perfect and cared for just the way Haven's house is maintained now, thanks to our housekeeper, Lenore. Mom died, then Gran died three years later, and less than three months after that, Dad was taken to prison, leaving Granddad and me on our own.
Granddad was happy when Dad was taken away, despite the fact he was his son. "Some people can't be saved," Granddad always told me. When life crashed down on us, it became apparent that Granddad had always been a kept man, one who was taken care of by his parents, then Gran when they got married.
Shortly after Gran died, Lenore came into our lives, making sure neither of us ever starved. Since she worked as our housekeeper for so long, I think Granddad ended up having a thing for her, or she had a thing for him. I’m sure it was because Lenore came to our house each day, doused in a pretty perfume, wearing clothes housekeepers don't usually wear. As I got older, I thought she would have been right for Granddad, and I remember encouraging him to date her, but he refused. He always reminded me that Gran was his one and only, and no one could take her place. Plus, he had me to deal with, and with my health issues, I was more than a handful. I hate to think I was the reason he never moved on, so I have tried to convince myself that he subconsciously knew that he'd be seeing Gran a lot sooner than we thought he would. Granddad dying at seventy-seven wasn't what I expected, not quite a year before I was legally able to care for myself.<
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I listen to Haven's even, soothing breaths for more than an hour, but the sun is beginning to dip down beneath the trees, and she needs to get home before her parents realize she's not there. I graze the back of my hand softly up the side of her cheek, gently trying to wake her. "Hey," I whisper. She stirs but doesn't open her eyes. "Haven." I press my lips to her cheek and stand up to get dressed. As I slip my jeans up to my waist, her eyes peel open, and she looks at me with uncertainty.
I pull my shirt over my head just as she sits up with a look of confusion and a little shock. "Holy crap! How long have I been asleep?" she asks.
"Just an hour or so. You must have been exhausted."
"Yeah, there wasn't much sleep happening in my house last night. Dad was on the phone with people until six this morning. He's so loud when things are going wrong." It's always the loud ones that get what they want.
Purposely forgetting about the conversation we had earlier, I cup my hand around her elbow, helping her up to her feet. "I should get you home."
Hoping she wouldn't argue, I'm immediately frustrated when she pulls her arm from my grip. "I told you, I'm staying here tonight."
I emit a sharp breath and place my hands on my hips, dropping my head to the side. "Haven, come on."
"No, Raine. I'm staying here. I already told you, you don't have to stay with me." She hasn't thought any of this through as I was hoping she might at some point in the past two hours.
"You have no blanket, nothing to keep you warm when the sun sets completely. You have no food. Haven, why would you do this? It's crazy."
"Why do you do it?" she retorts.
I suppress the anger bubbling in my gut while I conjure a non-asshole response. "I don't have a choice. I think I've made that clear."
"Well, neither do I," she says.
I close my eyes and shake my head with disappointment. I get the emotions behind what she's saying, but she does have a choice. "You don't want to know what it feels like to have no choice," I argue.
"Yeah, I do," she rebuts. "I want to feel what you feel, because maybe then I'll agree with you. Maybe I'll be more appreciative of the loneliness I live with every day."
"You don't have to be lonely!" I argue with her. "Why not just conform for a little while? Just put on an act, so you don't have to be lonely. I don't understand you at all. You have everything basically handed to you on a silver platter, yet you want to be like me, someone who sleeps on a goddamn park bench most nights? You're like a little twig telling an obese person you're having trouble losing weight. Why don't you get this, Haven?" Almost every word that slipped from my tongue came with a side of regret, but it's true, and she can hate me for it if she wants. "You don't want life on the other side, okay? Just trust me."
Haven's face turns red, and her eyes widen with anger. "I thought…out of everyone, you would understand," she says.
"Your words aren't hurting me. You know I'm right. You're acting like a brat right now."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Raine." Her voice has remained pretty impassive, considering the incoming wrath I'm sensing.
"Enlighten me then. Tell me why you'd rather be homeless than live in a four-thousand- square-foot palace."
Haven's chin quivers slightly, and I know I've pushed her to the brink, considering the strength she has proven to possess since the time I met her. Watching her fight off whatever she's feeling, a slight twinge of guilt bites at me for pushing her this far.
"The money my dad inherited doesn't belong to us," she says. "He's a thief, and we're living with it—the things it bought—buys us. It makes me just as big of a crook as he is, and I refuse to walk around under the guise that my family earned or deserves the money we have. Did you know you could buy popularity...even votes? He wasn't loved by this town. He bought his love from them, and that's why we have everything now. We were poor, Raine. We had nothing until five years ago."
I know. I've lived in this town a lot longer than she has.
11
Haven
I can imagine why no one understands where I'm coming from. How could anyone when they’re not living my life? Until someone has walked a mile in my shoes, no one could believe the special kind of hell I live through.
I shouldn't have to feel guilty for what Dad and Mom have done, but I do. I'm not like them—like the people they have become. I'm breaking inside. Every day I must endure their pretentious behavior, I feel like I'm on a boat with no paddles, drifting farther and farther away, waving goodbye while they're shouting for me to come back.
I'm just done. I can't do this anymore. By law, I can't be on my own yet, but legally, Dad didn't earn the money he has, so why not follow in his footsteps and break a few rules. Let them freak out when they come looking for me tomorrow and find out I'm not home. Let them try to call the cell phone they gave me and discover that it has taken up a permanent spot beneath my underwear in my top drawer. Let them feel remorse when they realize they've pushed me away by neglecting my feelings and needs one time too many. I’m no longer the child they think I still am, theirs to manipulate as they wish. I've been forced to grow up faster than I should have, keeping secrets and watching every word I say around others. They did this to me. They stole my innocence and my life in general. Screw them.
"Haven, you're actually staying here tonight?” Raine asks, standing a few feet away, ready to leave.
"I am, and I'll be okay," I assure him.
I can't see any particular look in his eyes since the darkness has set in quickly, but I hear the hesitation in his voice. I don't need him to stay. I don't need him to worry. I don't need sympathy or anything of the sort. This is something I need to do for me. I need to know I'm not a prisoner of that house, of my family.
"You're going to be cold, sleeping near the water. The mosquitos are going to swarm you, and you're going to wake up wet, and itchy as hell," he continues.
"I'll live," I tell him. I used to go camping all the time. We couldn't afford vacations or getaways back before my family turned criminal, so we went camping at Driskill Mountain. It was the most fun I had every year. We went with friends, and all we did was swim, eat, and hike. I loved it. I miss it. I miss the family I once had. Looking back, those people seem like strangers compared to the ones I live with today.
“Okay, then,” Raine makes his way across the dock and slowly up the hill into the darkness without much of a goodbye. Obviously, he doesn't get it.
Pulling in the deepest breath of fresh air I possibly can, I stare past the stars and into the scattered hints of clouds lit by the moon. With as much time as I normally have to think, I should have come up with a way to solve my insignificance issues, but any idea I've had about escaping haven't been plausible or good enough. Or maybe I just didn’t want my freedom badly enough until now. If I can't think of anything out here in the middle of nowhere, I'm probably screwed, and I’ll remain stuck and continue to be a prisoner in my home just like I have been for years.
Only a few minutes of dark thoughts come and go before I hear footsteps coming from behind me. I sit up and look toward the hill, but the way the reflection of the moon is hitting the water prevents me from seeing much. It isn't until he is five feet away, and my heart is racing faster than it should ever beat, that Raine throws a blanket over my head. "Had this in my truck. Figured you'd want to be warm, at least."
I yank the blanket off my head and look up at his cocky smirk. The blanket smells like him, and I immediately wonder if this is what he sleeps with every night he's outdoors. "Thank you," I tell him, kind of questioning his plans.
"Scoot over," he says. I do, and he sits down beside me, dropping a backpack off his shoulders. He brings the bag in between his legs and yanks on the zipper. Reaching inside, he retrieves two small aluminum-looking bags and hands one to me before pulling out a large thermos. Insight and understanding break through the stubborn cracks of my heart. This is how he lives. This isn't how I live; yet, I should be living in his shoes.
We were running out of money so quickly years ago. I may have only been a kid, but I was old enough to understand the severity of the fights Mom and Dad had. Night after night, I remember hearing: If we don't find a solution soon, we will be out of money. We won't be able to pay the rent for this house. We won't be able to eat. We'll be living on the streets like bums. I had to fall asleep listening to Mom cry for hours each night. At that age, I cried when I heard her cry. It was habitual. I felt her pain, and the only way to cope was to cry too. I never understood what it truly meant to be out of money, not until this very moment. But, it's in front of me now. It's staring me point blank in the face and showing me what I came close to. I ask myself all the time: Would I steal to eat? Would I steal to support my family? I want to say no so badly. If I did steal to support my family, it would only be for the bare necessities, though. It wouldn't be to advance myself from poverty to upper-class. That's what makes me so angry about what Dad did.
I watch as Raine peels open the tin wrapper, exposing a soggy looking sandwich. "The shelter has a small soup kitchen, and they hand out meals-to-go a few nights a week," he says without an intonation of despair or sorrow.
Opening my sandwich, I take a couple of bites, tasting the cheese that must never expire and the bread that tastes like a soggy paper napkin. Bread and cheese. I assume prisoners eat better than this. Raine finishes his sandwich in less than a few bites, and I follow his lead, hoping to appear grateful for this gesture. He shoves his hand back into his backpack and pulls out two packages of wafer cookies. "Dessert?"
I take one of the packages from his hand and eat the cookies slowly, savoring the taste as it relieves the hunger that has built up throughout the day. "Thank you," I tell him.
Raine's Haven Page 9
