The Light You Cast - 13. Chapter 13

Thanks for your input on the chapter warnings! After some consideration, I have decided to continue with a warning on chapters with sensitive content. It seems that some readers would like the heads up, and I want to be respectful of that.
That being said, no warnings apply to this chapter  

From inside the depths of sleep, something shadowy and formless grazed against my leg. My eyes snapped open and I lurched awake beneath a heavy set of blankets. Sweat trickled down my chest. Pitch black surrounded me. I couldn’t even see my hand when I waved it in front of my face. Where am I?

My mind felt foggy. The details of the day before settled in slowly. I was at the Gordons’ place. Mrs. Gordon had worried over me when I arrived sometime in the afternoon, saying I looked pale. She'd made me eat a bowl of soup before letting me go lay down in the guest room. Then I'd undressed quickly, crawled under the covers, and fell into an exhausted slumber.

Something tickled against my leg. I jolted away from it, then shoved off all the covers and doused myself in cold night air. A little blue rectangle glowed against my thigh. My phone! No one had ever called me on it before. Squinting at the tiny screen, Jonathan’s name appeared, along with a note that I’d missed five calls, and I was about to miss the sixth.

Swearing under my breath, I flipped it open and pressed it to my ear. I felt trapped in a web of grogginess and confusion, but I forced myself to speak. My voice came out raspy and thick.

“Hey. Sorry, I was asleep.”

Silence answered me, except for the sound of his breath—a sharp inhale. I could read pain in that breath. It tied my stomach in a sour knot. Frowning, I reached for the bedside lamp and switched it on. Its warm yellow glow filled the room and I squinted, bowing over my legs and rubbing my eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said in a voice that sounded much too quiet. “Sorry for calling you so late.”

“What time is it, anyway?” I asked.

“Two AM,” he replied.

“Oh,” I breathed out. How long had he been trying to reach me? “I didn’t mean to ignore your calls. It’s just that I’ve barely slept at all since I left home. I guess it hit me pretty hard.”

His breath wavered for a moment, then words came tumbling out one on top of the next. “Does that mean we can chalk this up to sleep deprivation? Or did I do something wrong? Did I move too fast? Did I say something stupid?”

The knot tightened painfully. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I told him. I was about to begin an explanation, but he spoke before the words could make their way to my tongue.

“Then why aren’t you here with me?" he asked. He voice sounded so small. It made me want to protect him. "I don’t understand your note," he continued. "I don’t understand anything and I’m really hurting right now.”

The tightness in my stomach mirrored itself inside my throat. I rubbed at the steadily growing lump but it did nothing to relieve the swelling. God, but I was tired of this kind of pain.

“Let me try to explain,” I said. “Just give me a second. I need to get some water.”

Jonathan made a noncommittal sound in his throat. Keeping the phone pressed to my ear, I rose from bed and made my way through the cold dark hallways to get into the kitchen for some water. It came out of the tap nearly frozen in its chill, but I welcomed the relief of the icy water against my hot swollen throat.

I gathered my thoughts and didn’t try to say anything until I was back in the guest room again, propped up against the wooden headboard by a pillow. The cold against my sweat-damp underclothes made me shiver, but I felt like I still needed to cool down, so I stayed on top of the covers. I took a deep breath to the bottom of my lungs and continued where I left off.

“I’m tired of being afraid all the time,” I said. “I want to be a normal person. That’s what I meant in my letter. I think you deserve that.”

“Okay…” he said, clearly not following, but gave me room to continue.

“I decided to order a copy of my birth certificate so I can get a legitimate ID.”

“That sounds like a good step,” he replied uncertainly.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me now. Maybe some red flag will get activated, some missing persons record, or criminal record. I don’t know how any of this works. What if you get in trouble for harboring a fugitive?”

His sigh was audible in a puff of air that made a static noise in my ear. “That’s what’s running around inside your head? I don’t understand why you feel like you have to figure this out alone. You’re not going to get any real answers that way. Why didn’t you just wait for me to get home so we could talk about it together?”

“You’d ask me not to leave, and I wouldn’t be able to say no to you,” I admitted weakly.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “You didn’t even give me a chance. I told you I wanted to help you. You should have believed me.”

The anger in his voice woke something in me. Dark feelings coughed up from the tightness in my chest and wrapped around me, dousing me in their tar. “I’m sorry, okay? I feel like I’m crazy. Like it’s inevitable that I’m going to disappoint you and drag you down with me.”

“Ethan—” he started, but the overflow of emotions inside me caused me to continue spilling out words.

“But that’s not me talking. That’s the crazy part. It’s my dad’s voice. Sophie made me see it for what it is. She said I’m repressing everything so hard that it’s making me like a puppet to all these fears he instilled in me. She’s only eighteen and she sees it more clearly than I ever have. I’m so sick of it! See? I have so many issues I don’t even know where to start. You don’t need that. You need—”

“Ethan!” he said louder. This time I stopped. My heart raced in my chest and I breathed heavily. I didn’t think I’d ever spoken so freely about what I was feeling in my life. It didn’t feel good at all. Shame washed over me and I closed my mouth, teeth clamping tight.

Silence hung in the air for a long moment before he spoke.

“I like you just the way you are,” he said. “Did you know you’re the only person I’ve ever met who writes poems? And you wrote one for me. It was so beautiful, I felt like I was floating on some other dimension.” He took a shaky breath. "I feel like a total mess. You did a number on me, Ethan."

"I'm really sorry."

I swallowed, rubbed a hand over my face, and listened.

“No one else could make me feel like that. I don’t think you understand what you do to me. Maybe I shouldn’t be so honest, but…” his voice trailed off for a moment. “It doesn't really make a difference if you hurt me. It’s not going to change how I feel.”

“Don’t say that,” I replied.

“Why not? It’s true."

The lump in my throat started to melt. Frustrated, I wiped my face dry on my sleeve. "It shouldn't be."

"Yeah. So now you get it, right? I’m just as screwed up as you are, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied.

The feeling of shame loosened its hold and began to dissolve. My heartbeat calmed down slowly, and I pulled the covers back over myself, suddenly feeling much too cold.

“So you really want to stay at the Gordons’?” he asked.

“For a little while.”

“Okay, fine. I won’t ask you not to. See? I'm reasonable. But I was really looking forward to spending the day with you tomorrow. And we have plans for dinner with the crew. Can we at least do some of that? I don’t think spending time with a fugitive counts as harboring one, does it?”

“I don’t think it does,” I said, smiling a little. My eyelids began to feel heavy now as the warmth of the Gordons’ guest bed sank back into my bones. "Where should I meet you?"

“I’ll come to you. You can meet me right out front and that will make it easy.”

“I like the sound of that,” I agreed.

“I don’t want to hang up, but I’m exhausted,” he said. “You wore me out.”

“Me too,” I admitted.

“Would you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?”

A warm glow formed inside me. It made the last remnants of the dark panic crack and crumble. He sounded about six years old, asking that. “Yeah,” I replied.

I listened to his breath against the phone for a long time. The rhythm grew longer and slower. Eyelids leaden, I fell asleep before I could hang up.

*****

At around nine in the morning, the clatter and clank of dishes in the kitchen finally woke me from my long slumber. I felt like a bear coming out of hibernation: hungry, disoriented, and grouchy. I groaned as I stretched and forced myself out of the warm bed.

After showering and dressing myself in the most presentable clothes I could find in my suitcase, I emerged from hiding to the smell of waffles. Michael and the Gordons chatted together around the kitchen table over the remains of an eaten breakfast. When they saw me, they all looked up. I froze.

“Sit down! I’ll make you a waffle,” Mr. Gordon said jovially as he gestured to an empty chair.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself,” I protested.

“It’s no trouble,” Mrs. Gordon said pointedly. “It’s his job. Give a retired man some pride and take a seat.” She pointed sharply at the chair with her fork. I sat.

Michael gave me a funny look. “I thought you were supposed to be staying with Jonathan, and then I hear from Rachael that you’re staying here now? Are you breaking up with him or something?”

I shot him a glare and had to stop myself from snapping at him. I poured a cup of coffee from the pitcher and made myself take a drink before I said anything I regretted. “Everything’s fine with Jonathan. It’s just better for me to stay somewhere else for a while. So what’s going on with you? Why are you looking so sharp? Did you get a haircut?”

My tactic of changing the subject worked like a charm. He beamed and showed off his posh look with a striped shirt and skinny tie under a gray sweater and a trim-fitting blazer. “You like it? Rayna helped me pick this out. I also got a haircut yesterday at lunch. We’re touring schools today, remember? Joe and Rachael offered to drive me around.”

“We’re taking him out for a late lunch afterwards,” Mrs. Gordon said. “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Gordon. I already have plans today, otherwise I would.”

She let out a guffaw. “Mrs. Gordon. You’re so polite! Call me Rachael. And call him Joe. Please, we don’t need any reasons to feel older than we already do.”

Joe snorted from the kitchen counter. “Who are you calling old? I’ll refuse to believe I’m getting old until I’m relying on a walker and I’ve broken at least one hip.”

He pulled my waffle off the griddle with a fork and tossed it onto a plate, presenting it to me like it was his singular greatest achievement. I took it gladly. It was delicious, and I told him so, earning a smile that contained a knowing, prideful twinkle.

When I was halfway through, Michael checked his phone and startled, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “It’s 9:15!” he said. “Go time!”

They began rushing dishes off the table in a whirlwind and I barely got in a goodbye before they were all out the door. I finished my breakfast in silence, feeling a rising certainty that my affection for the Gordons would only grow with time. It seemed to me that anyone who entered their lives became like family. They accepted Michael and me with open arms as naturally as breathing.

About an hour later, my phone buzzed with a text. “On my way,” Jonathan said. “See you soon.” A tiny bar on top of the screen indicated it still had 60% of its battery life, even though I’d left it open all night. The lady at the shop had definitely not been kidding about that.

While I cleaned up my own dishes, I thought about Michael and his nice clothes. It seemed like a good day to dress nicely, but I had didn't have much to work with. Judging by the crumpled state of the clothes in my suitcase, my camel colored corduroy pants and threadbare burgundy shirt would have to do.

I went to the bathroom to inspect myself in the mirror. My hair was getting overgrown on the sides and the top had dried in a boring, flat shape. I rewetted it and tried to make it look more lively. My stubble looked overgrown too. I got out my kit and trimmed it down, then cleaned up the edges with a razor. I looked around the bathroom and noticed a bottle of cologne. I gave it a whiff and decided, why not? I dabbed a little on my fingers and roughed around on my neck. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something.

The doorbell rang a short while later. I’d already put on my coat in anticipation and my shoes were waiting at the door, all loosened up and ready for me to jam my feet in so I didn’t have to dawdle.

I swung the door open, and there he stood, looking every bit as sharp as I expected him to. My eyes soaked him in from head to toe. I noticed he was wearing the coat I’d brought with me all the way from Alberta. The familiarity of it made a shiver run through me, goosebumps raising my skin.

“Hey,” I said, my voice feeling rough around the edges. “You’re wearing the coat.”

He nodded. “Rayna salvaged it. She’s kind of magical like that. It’s lost some of its luster but it’s not too noticeable.”

We stood there looking at each other for a minute, then he came in for a hug. He slipped his arms into my open coat and squeezed me around the ribcage, face pressing into my neck. I hugged him back, closing my eyes.

“You smell good,” he hummed. “And you’re warm. I missed you.”

“Did you sleep okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. How about you?”

“I think I slept a total of fourteen hours last night,” I said with a light laugh.

“Wow. You really were exhausted.”

“Yeah. Feeling a lot better now, though.”

He unlatched himself from me and drew himself up. “Ready to go?”

“Just gotta tie my shoes.”

I laced up my shoes and we headed out on our adventure.

“Here’s the itinerary I’ve been planning,” Jonathan said as our bus rolled through the city. “I was thinking of a mix of touristy stuff and more personal places that my friends and I like to go. One of my favorite cafes is out in Kensington Market, so we can start there. I want you to see all the cool artwork and shops out there. Then maybe we can walk through Chinatown and check out Graffiti Alley. After that there’s a furniture shop where I might have a job for you. What do you think so far?”

“A job at a furniture store? What do you think they’d want me to do?” I asked.

“Move heavy objects. Load trucks. Some assembly and shipping-related stuff. They’re willing to pay under the table. I thought that could work. But there was one other option that came up, if that doesn’t sound like your thing. One of my connections has a construction project that they need an extra hand on.”

“What would that entail?”

He made an uncertain face. “She said something about demolition. Whatever is involved with that? I don’t know much about construction.”

I nodded. “Furniture’s better,” I said.

“That’s what I was thinking. So after that—”

I stopped him with a nervous question. “Will it be like a job interview? Am I dressed okay?”

“For a job moving furniture? You’re fine. I wouldn’t say it’s a full-scale interview. Just a drop-by and meet the owners kind of thing.”

“All right.”

“So, after that we’ll probably be getting hungry. The crew can’t meet up until seven, so we should definitely stop for lunch...”

He went on to list a dizzying array of restaurants we choose from for an afternoon meal. I lost track and let him continue his laundry list of places to go and things to see.

*****

I sat alone on a park bench, watching ice skaters spin graceful figures on a frozen pond. My breath hung in the air, which grew darker with every minute that passed. Jonathan had gone to buy us cups of hot tea. I felt weary to my bones. Seeing so much of the city in one day, my mind spun with a cacophony of images and sounds. I wanted to wind down, so we found this park near the restaurant we’d be eating at soon.

I had one accomplishment to celebrate today. I was starting work on Wednesday at the furniture shop. But the under-the-table portion of it sat heavily on my mind. I kept thinking about how things would turn out with my birth certificate.

“Hey, Jonathan?” I asked after he sat down and handed me a paper cup filled with hot tea.

“Yeah?”

“Remember when we talked on the phone last night? You said I couldn’t figure everything out on my own.”

“I remember.”

“Logically, that makes sense. But who’s going to have the answers? Where do I even start?”

He thought for a moment, fidgeting with his cup. “You’re talking about being a missing person with a potential criminal record,” he said quietly.

I cringed inwardly, but I nodded.

“A lawyer,” he said. “Someone who specializes in criminal law.”

“Do you know anyone like that?” I asked.

“Not personally, no. But I think Rayna could help, if you feel like you’re ready.”

I took a long sip of my tea and breathed in the smell of jasmine, closing my eyes for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked when I didn’t respond.

“I’m terrified,” I said.

He came in closer to me and snaked his arm around mine, hooking our elbows together and leaning his head on my shoulder. I looked down into my tea. The sky reflected from its milky surface, yellow and muddled with clouds.

“My sister Sophie’s just about to graduate high school,” I said. “She’s moving here to Toronto in June so she can start university.”

“She’s coming here? I’ll get to meet her?” he asked.

“Yeah. She wants to study psychology, and I think she’ll be good at it. I mean, we just talked on the phone once, and she already seemed to have me figured out.”

“Well, she came from the same hell house you did, right?”

I nodded.

“Don’t mistake her for someone who’s a real practicing psychologist, okay? Have you ever talked to a real psychologist? You know, a therapist or someone like that?” Jonathan asked.

“No. Have you?”

“Every couple of weeks.”

“What’s it like?” I asked curiously.

“Sometimes it's comforting. Sometimes it’s miserable. Over time it helps you deal with the horrible shit you’ve been through and sort it out from the stuff you’re putting yourself through unnecessarily. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without that support. Believe me. I owe it to Rayna for helping me with that. She’s kind of like a mom to me, you know? I don’t know where I’d be without her.”

I turned my cup of tea in my hands, around and around. It had been a long day. Jonathan’s enthusiasm had been uplifting and infectious. The city had come to life through his vivid explanations and stories. But just like after a busy day of work, winding down for the night always brought on feelings of contemplation. A blanket of melancholy swept over me. I felt a surge of gratitude for Jonathan’s warmth against my arm, and I leaned my head on top of his.

The gears in my mind turned and turned. We watched the skaters gliding, lit up by a set of lights that glowed down on them from above. They seemed brighter with every passing moment, sky deepening its hue to green, then dark blue. Only a couple of stars showed up in the night sky here. The city lights drowned them out. Normally it would have bothered me, but tonight I didn’t mind.

“Ready to go get some Thai food in a minute?” he asked.

As tired as I was, I realized I didn’t want to be alone. Being surrounded by Jonathan’s friends, their cheer, and their laughter, sounded quite nice at the moment. After the shock of this revelation wore off, I nodded against the top of Jonathan’s head.

“Let’s go,” I said.