Page 10 of Moving Forward

She jumps again when I open the door, looking from me to the street nervously. Clearly while I’ve been contemplating my motive, she’s been contemplating running. I hand the pie to her, and she thanks me quietly.

I won’t say another word, because I know if I do, I’ll be running it over and over forever in my head. I can’t remember the last thing I said to someone who wasn’t Grams. And I know I’ll never forget this conversation. As much as I would like to believe I’ll forget her, I know I won’t. Not when I keep hearing my grandpa saying the one, like a song stuck on repeat.

So instead of doing anything else, saying anything else, I turn and disappear into my boat, wishing I could hide away forever.

I can sense change stirring in my perpetually bleak future.

CHAPTER FIVE

MAX

I stare down at the peach pie in my hands as I lean back against the hood of my car. My mind is still trying to work out what just happened. I felt so lost while he spoke to me, going through the motions, trying to stay afloat. I didn’t even really comprehend what I was doing when I accepted the pie from him, not even thinking about the fact he could be a psycho who laces pies with date rape drugs. I just followed his lead and pretended I was there with him instead of having an out-of-body experience.

I bite my lip, replaying everything from the moment I saw him to the moment he handed me pie and then when he seemed to shut down completely. It just felt so surreal. I don’t understand any of the emotions I felt with him—if anything, I felt emptier than ever. To be honest, I loved it. It was the first time in three years I hadn’t felt like I’d wither away in despair.

It feels as if he seized my pain to carry on his own shoulders.

The thought catches me off guard. All I can think of is a Greek mythology class I took a few semesters ago. Atlas was the Titan condemned to balance the sky—the heavens—on his shoulders. All that existed rested on him. He desperately tried to trick Hercules into carrying it instead but could not. Atlas had to bear his punishment.

I never thought he deserved that cruel burden. I don’t know how he couldn’t fall to his knees from the weight, even as a Titan. Instinct told me this man didn’t deserve that fate, either.

Even in my fugue state, I could recognize the stranger was handsome. His face was strong and angular, with his nose curved slightly to the left, and a small scar jutting into his eyebrow. Every feature was hardened, a vein ticking in his neck. His lips were in a firm, straight line. I wonder, if he were to smile would his cheeks crack, then turn to dust? The way he spoke was so awkward and gruff. He seemed like the quiet type who doesn’t speak much. I have a feeling his moods consist of a lot of glowering and brooding.

Then there was the bandage wrapped around his forearm. I don’t think he meant for me to see, but his sleeve was pushed up enough to reveal it. Blood was seeping through, and scars of varying freshness peeked out of the edges of the wrap. Those scars were manmade. Purposeful.

My chest tightens. He makes himself bleed.

Footsteps draw me out of my thoughts. “Whatcha got there, and can I have some?” Danny asks as he and Ellie approach. He looks like he just woke up, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, red hair all rumpled.

“Where did you get pie from?” Ellie lets go of Danny’s hand to plop down on the hood beside me and lifts the pie from my hands to get a better look. “What kind is it?”

I decide not to answer her first question. If I did, she’d ask about the guy I met and immediately start planning our wedding. “Peach,” I answer.

“Bleh,” she groans and hands it off to me. “I’m allergic.”

“You are?”

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