Broken Compass

by Jo Raven

  “Shut it, Mary. Harold this and Harold that.” He glares at me. “I talk, you answer. Got it?”

  “Actually, no.” I tear my angry gaze from him to shoot an accusing look at my mom. “Why are you letting him do this?”

  She gives a light, fake laugh. “Honey, he’s my man.”

  As if that explains anything. Maybe for her it does. For me? Not anymore.

  “Your man should respect you,” I say. “Love you. Love your children.”

  She shakes her head sadly. “Baby…”

  “Are you two serious?” Harold mock-gapes at us. “Stop babying her, Mary. She’s a spoiled brat.”

  “You…” Nate’s cheekbones are flushed, his eyes glittering. His hands are fisted at his sides. “I’ve heard enough. Careful how you speak to my girlfriend.”

  The man, Harold, stands up and opens his mouth to speak, but West takes a step forward, his arm in front of me, protective. “Don’t even think about it.”

  He frowns, as if puzzled, then grabs Mom’s arm and hauls her to her feet. “Come on, Mary, we’re going.”

  She says nothing, letting him manhandle her around the table.

  “Mom!” Panicking, I shove West’s arm away and get in their way. “Wait. That’s… we haven’t even talked yet.”

  “I have to go.” There’s regret in her voice, but also steel.

  “No, not yet, just…” I’m panicking. We haven’t even sat down yet, for chrissakes. “I need to know. You came back to see me, right?”

  “I came back to pick up some stuff from the apartment.” Her voice has gone cold. I don’t recognize her anymore, I realize. That’s my mom? “That’s all.”

  “You…” West steps forward, hands fisted, gaze murderous, and I absently push him back. He lets me.

  “Why did you leave me?” I ask, hating the crack in my voice. “Why didn’t you write? Where were you all this time?”

  “I was busy, baby. As you can see.”

  “You left me! I’m your daughter. You left me and didn’t even write!” I stare at her, willing her to say she understands, that she’s sorry. To say something. Anything.

  “What’s the fucking problem now?” he mutters, hauling Mom away by the arm. “Let’s go.”

  “Sydney, stop whining about me going,” Mom tells me over her shoulder. “You’re an adult now.”

  “But I wasn’t when you left,” I whisper as they pass us by and walk out of the coffee shop. “Can’t you see how wrong it was to leave me like that? How you hurt me?”

  She’s already gone. In and out of my life in a matter of minutes. It’s obvious she can’t see the problem. She doesn’t get it. Doesn’t feel anything. Doesn’t care.

  And it kills me because deep inside I know it’s been that way all along. My boys care more for me than my mom ever has, and it should be fine. I have them now. They’re always there for me, in every way that counts.

  But I can’t stop the tears as I watch my mom leave with her asshole of a boyfriend. I’m splintering up, fracturing, falling to pieces.

  When Nate and West surround me, I pour my hot tears into their shirts, into their chests, their skin, their flesh, and they take them all without a word, holding me tight.

  They put me back together, and I know I’ll be okay.

  Not now, though.

  Now I’m a broken thing.

  “I saw Kash again,” I mumble against West’s solid chest as Nate unlocks the door of our apartment and lets us in. “Earlier today, as I was walking home.”

  “You’re exhausted. Make yourself comfortable on the sofa, and I’ll make you a hot chocolate.”

  “I did, West. I saw him.” I don’t know why I’m so insistent about it, why it matters that he believes me when I’m not even sure about what I saw.

  “Okay.” He gives me a serious look. “Sit down, I’ll get you the hot chocolate, and you can tell me about it.”

  He probably thinks it’s better for me to let it out, talk about it, and forget that my Mom just walked out on me for the second time in my life, that she doesn’t care about me, and that… That she may not come back.

  A sob catches in my throat, and Nate comes and wraps his arms around me. “Shh,” he whispers. “You have us, girl. You have us, always.”

  I know. I do know it. It’s what’s keeping me from screaming with rage and sorrow. I let him haul me gently to the sofa and I curl there beside him, my head on his shoulder, his arms surrounding me.

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” he tells me, and I think of his horrible family and love him even more for offering me comfort.

  “Thank you.” I kiss his stubbled cheek. “I’ll be fine. She just… came out of the blue, you know? And went back to it without regrets.”

  “She regrets it.” West comes with the hot chocolate, places it on the low table and sits down beside me, taking my hand. “She regrets it already, but she dug a hole for herself and can’t get out of it. Probably can’t even remember how.”

  Pain stabs through me. Tears gather in my eyes. I don’t want her to suffer. I just want her to love me. Is that too much to ask?

  “Dude…” Nate glares at him. “Not helpful.”

  “What I meant…” West gives me a sheepish smile and lifts my hand to his lips. “Is that she loves you. And we do, too.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Nate growls. “Say, I love you, Sydney.”

  We both turn to stare at him.

  “Syd, I love you,” West says quietly and kisses my hand, making me shiver.

  “Good.” Nate trails his mouth over my cheek. “Syd, I love you, too.”

  A strangled laugh escapes me. “You’re crazy,” I tell him, pissed because he scared me there for a second. I thought… I thought he’d say he doesn’t care for me. “Nuts.”

  It’s proof of how shaken I am tonight that I’d ever doubt him.

  “Fifty percent nuts,” he says solemnly, “fifty percent dick. You get the whole package.”

  I snicker. Something relaxes in my chest, and I can breathe again. “I love you, too, guys, so much. West, Nate.” I frown. “And Kash. I saw him.”

  “Syd…” There’s a warning tone to Nate’s voice. I guess now he thinks I am nuts.

  “Tell us what you saw,” West rumbles.

  “He was crouched at the entrance of a shop. That tobacco store behind the bus stop? And the other day I saw him there, too. It was practically the same place, only that time he was across the street.”

  They exchange a look. “It’s impossible,” West whispers, blue eyes darkening. “I mean, what the fuck, right? We’ve looked everywhere for him, read his journal and imagined all sorts of scenarios, told the police that his uncle kidnapped him, and he’s here?”

  “Yeah, no way.” Nate shakes his head, mouth downturned.

  “But what if it’s true?” I whisper. “What if I did see him?”

  “Why would he be here, a few streets down, and not come find us? This is fucked up.”

  “What if he’s sick? What if he’s hurt? What if he is out there?” I chew on my lip, my mind made up. “I’m going to go look for him.”

  “You wanna go out now, in the dark, to look for Kash. You probably saw someone who looked like him. You’re upset—”

  “Don’t.” I push off the sofa, to my feet, and straighten my clothes, wipe at my tear-streaked face. “Don’t do that. I know I sound crazy. But I need to do something, or I’ll really lose my mind. Please…” I lick my lips, rub at my forehead and the headache blooming there. “Let’s just go for a walk. I need this.”

  I’m shaking, and I’m making no sense, and I don’t even know what I want, except to get out of here. Escape. Not think.

  Another of those silent exchange of looks takes place over my head, that unspoken communication of people who’ve known each other for long years, and they nod.

  “Let’s go.”

  The night is cold, and I wrap my jacket around me. The wind blows crisp and sharp, going through me, even with my two big guys
flanking me. The fresh air feels good on my face, on the dried tracks of tears on my cheeks. It clears my mind.

  Makes me realize I don’t really expect to find Kash. The guys are probably right. It can’t be him. But still, I don’t regret coming out of the apartment. I’d been suffocating, I was crushed and smothered, and I’m glad to be out despite the drizzle that’s just started, driven into my face by the wind.

  Linking arms, we walk down the street, then another. We’re approaching the bus stop and although I’ve convinced myself it was all in my mind, I look at the spot where I thought I saw Kash sitting earlier.

  The store entrance is empty, faintly illuminated by a nearby street lamp.

  Of course it is.

  We stop in front of it anyway. I stop, bringing all three of us to a halt. “It was here,” I whisper. “I was so sure…”

  That flash of gray eyes. The silver in the nose and brows. But more than that—the shape of the face, of the shoulders, that feeling it was him.

  Is this what mourning is like? Seeing the one you love everywhere long after you’ve accepted they’re gone? Ghosts, haunting your every step, faces in the mirror when you glance up, when you open a new door.

  Nate and West press closer to my sides as if sensing my sorrow. Maybe their thoughts are following the same pathways, their emotions as tangled and messy as mine.

  It feels as if we’re paying our last respects. Laying our hearts down on the concrete instead of flower wreaths, saying goodbye.

  We finally turn to go, not speaking a word, the wind buffeting us, lashing strands of hair across my face, blinding me.

  But we lurch to a stop and West says breathlessly, “There!”

  “What?” I frown.

  “West, what are you…?” Nate starts, and stops.

  Then both of them are untangling themselves from me and taking off down the street, leaving me to stumble alone a few steps.

  What in the world is going on?

  I run after them, my much shorter legs pumping. “Wait!” Why did I wear boots with a heel today? I didn’t imagine I’d be running down a sidewalk in the middle of the night, the concrete slick and slippery under my steps. “Guys.”

  They’ve cornered someone against the wall of a building, beside a dark entrance, though a lit-up store sign for a twenty-four-hour convenience store nearby provides just enough light for me to see as I stop, panting, and stare.

  The guy is leaning against the wall, head bowed, hands raised in fists, ready to strike. But his fists are shaking, and his body is hunched over.

  For some reason it makes me sad and worried.

  And there it is again, that impression—that it’s Kash. But it can’t be, it can’t, there’s no way, my mind’s playing tricks on me once again.

  Then Nate reaches up, pulls back the guy’s hood, and I gasp.

  I start running again, faster and faster, to get to them, to him.

  It’s Kash. I run toward the revealed glint of silver-blond hair, the piercings in his face, those wide pale eyes, that face I know so well.

  There’s no doubt about it anymore.

  “Kash? It’s us,” Nate is saying, catching one of the fists flying at him. “Stop, dude. You know us. Don’t you?” This last question delivered with a hint of doubt. “Stop swinging at me, man. We’re your friends.”

  “Snap out of it, buddy.” West grabs Kash’s arm and twists it, immobilizing him. “Stop it.”

  But Kash produces a low moan of pain and fear, and it crashes my heart into tiny shards.

  “You’re hurting him!”

  West starts, his hand on the arm he’s holding jerking. “Kash is stronger than me, Syd.”

  “Not right now, not anymore. Can’t you see?”

  Can’t they see what I’m seeing? Wide, gray eyes, so confused and unseeing. That face so gaunt, with cheekbones jutting out like blades. His pale hair long, strands hanging past his chin. Those wide shoulders bony, the filthy, torn clothes hanging off his frame.

  I reach for him.

  But Nate puts an arm in front of me, holding me back. “Careful.”

  “He looks feverish.” I gently push Nate’s arm away. “Stop fighting him. You’ll hurt him worse.”

  West sighs and releases Kash who presses back against the wall, panting harshly. He lifts his hands. “Sorry, man.”

  That blond head tilts to the side, the gray eyes jumping from West, to Nate, to me. He licks his chapped lips, and something sparks in his empty gaze. “…Red?”

  The sound of my pet name on his lips threatens to shatter me to pieces.

  “Yes. Yes, it’s me.” Nate steps out of the way as I open my arms for Kash. “You came back home.”

  “Home,” he whispers, and lets me slide my hands around his back where I feel every rib and every knob of his spine. He sounds lost.

  Maybe he is lost.

  This is surreal. Unreal. In a second, I’ll wake up from this dream where we found Kash around the corner from our apartment, and he’ll be gone from my arms again.

  “Kash…” I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel the coolness of tears on my cheeks. I press my body to his, holding more tightly, and another of those pained moans escapes him.

  Concerned, I pull back. Is he hurt? I don’t see any blood, but his clothes are huge on his thin frame, and I can’t tell.

  I swallow back all the other questions crowding my mind—where have you been, what happened, when did you get back, why didn’t you come to us, what are you doing here on the street?—and focus on the most pressing one.

  “Are you coming with us?” I ask, and I quiver inside. What if he says no? What if he never meant to come back?

  Adults often come back, the police said. We won’t know why they walked away until they return. If they return.

  Is this what happened? He walked away, then came back? I just… it doesn’t compute. Doesn’t make sense.

  Kash is blinking those long pale lashes at something behind me, and it takes me a long moment to realize it’s the guys he’s staring at.

  “Nate,” he whispers, voice broken, confusion clouding his gaze. “West. What… what happened?”

  That’s it, he’s breaking my heart all over again, right now, making the pieces smaller and smaller until there’ll be nothing left but dust.

  “That’s us,” West says, voice rough, and has to clear his throat. “Here.” He puts a hand on Kash’s shoulder. “I’m here.”

  “We’re here, man.” Nate takes a tentative step forward, then slips his arm around Kash just when his legs seem to go out from under him, startling me, scaring me half to death. “We’re taking you home.”

  They lift him back to his feet between them, and I’m horrified at the pallor of his face, the feverish gleam of his eyes when his lashes lift, the way he hangs off West and Nate.

  Horror, disbelief, mind-numbing worry, fear.

  Joy. Above pure, unadulterated joy, because he’s not dead, he’s not gone forever.

  He’s back.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Nate

  We half-carry Kash up to the apartment while Sydney hurries ahead, unlocking and opening doors, holding them open for us to pass.

  I’m concerned, and not only because he weighs almost nothing, a bag of skin and bones, but above all because dude didn’t even recognize us. Tried to fight us off. He was hanging out near home and never called, never came up? What is this new fuckery?

  We maneuver him into the apartment, and Sydney closes the door, then hurries to open our bedroom door. His feet drag on the floor, and he’s sickeningly thin where my arm curls around his back, his ribs like the branches of a tree, poking through the skin.

  “Shower first,” I say. Kash stinks to hell and back—a mixture of trash and sweat and urine and fuck knows what else.

  “Let’s get him undressed,” West grunts, tugging us toward the bedroom anyway. “Easier to do it on the bed.”

  “We should take him to a doctor,” Sydney whispers, her v
oice choked. “I think he’s hurt. He seemed to be in pain when I hugged him.”

  “One thing at a time, girl.” I wrestle Kash’s long form onto the bed, West sitting down with him so we lay him flat on his back. “Let’s take a look.”

  He blinks up at us, those pretty eyes at half-mast, dazed but not blank like before. “Are we home?”

  Dammit. Such an innocent question, and it stabs me right through the chest like a knife. There’s so much hope, and heartbreak in it. So much longing.

  “Yeah, we’re home. Are you hurt anywhere, man?” I make myself move and start peeling off his hoodie, then stop when he hisses. “Telling us will help not to hurt you more.”

  “He has cuts on his chest,” West says, voice shaking with anger. “And bruises.”

  Fuck, Kash. “How did you get those, buddy?”

  He’s sweating, drops rolling down his face, body tensing. “Nate…”

  “I’m right here.”

  Sydney comes from the bathroom with a wet cloth. She wipes his face, brushes his damp hair off his forehead. His gaze latches on her, and he relaxes again.

  “Where were you before we found you, man?” I pull down his pants. They are three sizes too big, and he’s used a piece of string as belt. “Where did you get these clothes?”

  His gaze swings to me, panic entering them. “I’m not sure. It’s like… my brain isn’t clear.”

  I pull the pants off and swallow a hiss at the bruises and more cuts. “Who did this to you? Come on, Kash, tell us.”

  “Sometimes I see things… faces.” He groans when West pulls him to a sitting position, face going white. “Sometimes I don’t recognize them. It’s as if… as if I’m asleep and can’t wake up all the way. I walk and find places… that seem familiar, but then… not anymore.”

  “Well, shit,” I breathe.

  Sydney throws me a fearful look. “What should we do?”

  “I’m sure you’ll feel better when you’re clean and in bed,” I tell him, lifting him up, grimacing at how light he is, how unsteady. “Give us a hand, West.”

  West nods, almost as pale as Kash in the face. Kash has scared us all shitless. And yet I’m so relieved I could fucking cry. I feel like I can breathe again after months of being trapped underwater. Like I’ve been buried alive, and now I’m digging my way out, to the fresh air.