Page 7 of My Revenant
“Let’s go.” She grinned, hooking her arm with one of mine and pulling me down the street toward the town center.
four
Jonah - Past
SEXUALITY AND SHATTERED SILENCE.
I saw Becca every day after that.
We had a lot to catch up on. She told me about all that had changed in town, about the lives of all the kids we’d been in school with back then. Some of them I remembered, others not at all. To be honest, I really didn’t give a fuck about any of them and had no desire to re-form any of those connections. But I liked hearing her talk.
When we were together, the ugly feeling that constantly twisted my insides eased.
It was nice to have someone who actually wanted me around. And I knew sheactuallywanted me around, because I’d tried to keep my distance from her after that day on the beach and she wouldn’t allow it. She’d made us swap numbers at the Cozy Cow that evening, and she messaged me constantly. If I didn’t respond fast enough, she’d be at my bedroom window to check what I was doing. That probably would have been weird if she didn’t live two houses down from me.
Maybe she was weird, and intense, but after feeling so fucking alone for so long I wasn’t complaining.
Becca told me about her life, her problems. She’d come out to her parents a year ago, and they hadn’t taken it well. Her parents were divorced now. She lived in the house she grew up in with her mom and younger sister, and her dad had moved out to Meadow Park in the split. He’d told her he never wanted to see her again.Her mom didn’t understand her either, and constantly used the wrong name and pronouns. It all made me so pissed off for her, and honestly, as angry as I was all the time, it was nice to hold some of that anger on someone else’s behalf for a change. At least her sister seemed supportive. But if I ever happened to run into her mom or dad, I doubted I’d be able to hold my tongue.
I didn’t talk a lot about myself, and she always seemed to know when to ask me questions and when to let things go. She knew about the accident, though, and had a vague idea of what it had taken from me. Instead of pity, she seemed angry on my behalf, and I much preferred that.
She was also angry that my mom had shipped me back here because I was too difficult to be around. Bee had used some very strong words to describe what kind of parent that made her—but had admitted she was grateful for it, because now we got to be together again.
As much as I missed the city at times, and as angry as I was at Mom for the same reason, I had to agree.
We didn’t talk about Adaline.
It was nice having a friend again. I hadn’t really had one since I’d left here, as it took a certain type of extrovert, like Becca, to drag me out of my introverted shell.
After a week of relentless pestering, she even got me to start going to college.
I fucking hated college. But we had a lot of the same classes, so I only went to those.
I didn’t talk to anyone else. Unlike Becca, they seemed to acknowledge my foul aura and fuck-off vibes and had the normal reaction to those and kept clear.
It got me out of the house and away from Dad too, so that was something.
In the evenings we’d be at the rock seat on our beach, or at the Cozy Cow, where I mostly sat in silence and let her talk and ramble about whatever she wanted. Sometimes she’d hang out in my room with me, but I didn’t like being there any more than I had to be.
The bed was small, the bedding the same as when I used it as a kid—with blue-striped sheets and a thin old quilt with bright primary colors and trains on it. Fucking ridiculous. But I didn’t have money anymore, and I wasn’t about to ask Dad for anything unless I had to.
I should probably look for some kind of job, but that would require me being at least somewhat pleasant to people, and that was too much to ask on the best of days.
Nothing about this house had changed since I’d left. Like it was frozen in time. It was small and old, but it wasn’t run-down like the houses and trailers in Meadow Park. Just three bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and a kitchen with a joined living room.
It was all just how I remembered it, yet it somehow felt smaller, the colors dulled like they too had given up.
The pictures were missing from the walls. I couldn’t remember what was in the photos, but there were faint discolored patches where they’d once been, like ghosts of them left behind.
Dad was a ghost most days too.
He woke up early, went to work at the factory, came home and ate takeout in front of the TV, and then drank until he fell asleep. At some point in the night, he’d wake up and stumble into his room to sleep some more, until his alarm blared at the ass-crack of dawn and he’d knock shit around getting ready and heading out.
There were usually leftovers in the fridge for me, or money on the table if there wasn’t. Sometimes there was neither.
We hardly spoke to each other. What was there to say? Sorry Mom left you for another guy the first chance she got? Sorry some asshole hit me with his car, and all my dreams and hopes and desireshad burned up in that moment, and now I’m stuck back in literal hell with you? Wecertainlyweren’t going to talk about Adaline. Yeah, it was better not to speak.
He was bitter that Mom had left him. He didn’t have to talk about it for that to be obvious. I think he held some of that resentment toward me too, because she’d taken me with her. But I was seven. I didn’t ask to go or stay. She’d made that choice for the both of us.
