Page 64 of Sorry, We're Closed

Twenty-Nine

Sawyer

A hollowness swells within my chest and mind overnight as I wake up in Gwen’s bedroom, inundated with rose and vanilla body spray. You’d think that finally being free of a mother who diminishes your true being and from a café which was my feeble and quite frankly stupid attempt at regaining that woman’s love, while genuinely being free enough to be my authentic self finally, would feel amazing. Disentangling. Like unlocking the shackles which have been cutting into me for so long.

Instead, it leaves this dark, endless pit which just festers within my chest, in my stomach, in my mind. Everyone has goals, everyone has ambitions, everyone has something they are working to, and I don’t even recognise myself anymore.

My entire life has been surrounded by her; her dream which I believed I ruined with my choices and with the person I truly am, and her love and affection which she dangled, taunting me, making me believe that one day I’d reach it and finally be enveloped with everything every child craves. Somehow, I never noticed her forever reeling her motherly instincts away from me, making sure I could never reach it. I was never going to be invited back into her life, I was never going to be accepted with open arms, and that is something I will learn to accept over time, I guess.

I force my heavy body to roll onto my back, searching for Gwen but she’s nowhere to be seen. I assume the Sweet siblings still have to work despite my sudden arrival, but the idea of rotting in bed for the entire day feels like something which would only make things worse yet the only option for someone like me.

I tug the pastel pink duvet up to my ears, wrapping myself tight, hoping the warmth could stir some sort of emotion that isn’t loss and yearning. Instead, the warmth radiating around me makes me yearn for more. Makes me yearn for him. I don’t want this warmth which I force into creation by constricting my body and forming a personal oven, instead I don’t want a duvet at all. I want to lay on my side, with his chest pressing against my back. His arms wrapping tight around me, his warm breath landing on my neck, his voice soothing my mind and heart from this ache and numbness which has grown. I crave his arms taut around me, holding me to the point where maybe I struggle to breathe, but that is fine because at least I would be with him. I would feel safe, loved, like me again.

His willingness, his freeing spirit, his outlook on everything and anything makes this version of myself which I’ve never recognised emerge. That version of me wasn’t different, it wasn’t forced, it was released from a prison which she held the keys to, and with him, I was just me – Sawyer Sombre, through and through. I never want to look back to how I was, how I’ve seemingly fallen back in line with how I’ve always presented, despite losing all the restrictions my life held. However, a part of me will forever believe that my smile, my laugh, my touch, will always be his. He made that happen. He brings emotions to the surface which are unbelievably unfamiliar, and buries everything I know, because those emotions don’t deserve mine or his attention anymore.

I struggle to comprehend anything my mind is screaming about, yet a knock on the door partnered with a familiar voice, forces me to focus on something else. Good.

“Hey Sawyer, I’m not sure if you’re awake yet, or if you even want any company right now, but Gwen and I have shut the bakery for the day. Gwen is out doing whatever right now, but she’ll be back soon and I’m home all day if you need anything, bud. If you’re interested, I’ve got some lunch going, so just holler.”

Xander’s footsteps quieten as some pots and pans begin to clatter in their kitchen. I can hear the beginning chords of some indie band playing, and Xander gently humming and singing along.Lunch time already?

I don’t know if it’s the smell of Xander’s bacon and eggs on his homemade rosemary sourdough loaf, or if a small voice in my brain shouts at me that remaining swaddled in duvet all day is not a good idea, but I somehow find myself standing up, my bare feet waking up on the cool hardwood floors.

I don’t remember changing into a white tank shirt and a tiny pair of black shorts which barely cover my thighs, but I already feel exposed enough after last night, let alone with this much skin on show. I pick up the pile of cream, knitted fabric that has been thrown over Gwen’s pink, plush chair, tucked in to her white vanity table. As I try to pull my limbs through the holes of my sweater, I realise that the front of my sweater is open and suddenly has a row of oak buttons descending on one side of the fabric. This isn’t my sweater. This is Gwen’s cardigan – it’ll do. I throw the cardigan over my shoulders and wrap the fabric around me tightly, my fingers fiddling with the loose strings on the sleeves.

“Sawyer! I’m so glad you could make it for some food, mate. I was worried about you after…” His voice trails off as he drops his spatula onto the counter and throws his arms around me.

Xander has quite a bit of height on me, as his biceps rest easily on my shoulders, with his head on top of mine, his oaky musk filling my nostrils. I swear this man just permanently smells like fresh bread and trees thriving in nature.

My voice muffles into his chest. “I’m sorry about dumping so much on you guys.”

Xander steps back, his hands remaining on my shoulders and his chocolate eyes relaxing on mine.

“Sawyer, there’s no need to apologise. You are family to us. You have practically been a little brother to me since Gwen stumbled home with you linked to her arm at… what? Six-years-old? You’ve always got us, and we’ve always got you.” He winks before patting my shoulder twice and then tending to his usual cheesy, scrambled eggs.

Even if he wants to appear as this grumpy, brooding, muscly man, Xander will always have a heart of gold which he dedicates to his family and those he cares for in his life. I also know about his love for quiet evenings in with gin and crap TV, and he can cook. I really do wonder sometimes how he has been single for so long, or how someone so understanding and caring for those around him, managed to lose someone who he says he truly loved. Still does, it seems.

Without thinking, the words escape my lips. “Xander? How do you, or did you, deal with loving someone who isn’t an option in your life?”

He pauses as he listens to my question, until he exhales and speaks. “First, you answer my question. Why is Avory not an option?”

My lips part as he catches on to exactly what I’m hinting at, even if I don’t realise it. My mind starts to race with the thought,why isn’t he an option? Could he be an option? No, I can’t leave Tetherton, I have the café and—

“I don’t know. Tetherton is all I’ve ever known, and it feels like it is all I’ll ever know.”

Xander buts in as he begins to plate our food. “No, that’s what shemadeyou believe. Why is Avory not an option?”

“What if he’s not serious about this, us? What if I’m just another fling for him?”

I throw it out there, even though I have never truly believed it once. Avory has only ever shown me his raw, authentic, beautiful self, even after seeing all the different shades of me. Yes, Avory has told me about the fun he’s had while touring and performing, but we’re something else. Well, we were anyway.

“Has he ever given you a reason to believe that? Has he ever said that? Have you ever asked him?”

Xander drops the plates on the dining table as he offers a glass of orange juice, and I nod.

“Avory has only ever made me feel incredible, more than incredible.”

Xander pulls my seat out for me before sitting himself down and laying out a variety of condiments. His food always smells divine, and I can feel my mouth salivating as I realise how ravenous I really am, and how long it has been since my last full meal. I thank Xander for the meal as I am already piling food onto my fork.

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