Runaway Pt. 02

Her laugh was musical and friendly, and I joined in as I poured wine for the two of us.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, I got the Cole's Notes version from Tom, who got a brief summary from Noah. Suffice to say, I know you're a sweet girl from some small town in Manitoba who had the fortune of finding your way into Noah's life. How'd that happen?"

"Oh, that's... I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, how'd you two meet?"

"On the train."

Jenny raised an eyebrow as she stirred a pot. "Is a better question when did you two meet?"

My stomach knotted as I bit my lip.

"Uh, well... today's the second so... um, six days ago."

Jenny turned to me slowly. She may have been a small person, but I had never felt so intimidated in my life. If the way that conversation was going was any indication of the one I'd have to have with Sean in a few days' time, I was screwed.

When she burst out laughing, I was both surprised and relieved.

"Oh, girl. Now you gotta tell me the whole story. How the hell... I mean, I know Noah's a good kid, don't get me wrong, but six days?"

As succinctly as I could, I explained how I met Noah. I started by telling her about the drugged drink on the train and told her about my screw-up that had us on the wrong end of the country, but glossed over running away from him in Hinton and losing my bag in Edmonton. I also didn't mention sharing a bed with him the previous evening, although Jenny asked as soon as I was finished.

"Shit, we thought when Noah talked about you that it was, you know, you two were... Girl, I can get Noah to sleep downstairs with the boys if you want, or in the living room."

"N-No, it's fine."

"You sure? Because—oh." She grinned. "You're just leaving out all the juicy bits, aren't you?"

I blushed horribly red as she laughed and slapped her hand against the counter.

"I thought that would explain it, but I just got more questions now."

Sipping the wine, I waved a hand in the air. "Ask away."

"How'd you end up on that train alone in the first place?"

I stared down into my wine glass. For some reason, I was comfortable talking to Jenny, and the story spilled out without me even thinking about it. I told her about Roger tricking me into thinking he was interested and about what my parents were like, what they had done to Sean. Though I hadn't filled my glass very much, thinking I would sip it slowly, it emptied faster than I thought.

When I finished talking and looked back up, Jenny was watching me with a guarded expression. Without saying anything, she reached forward and poured more wine into my glass.

"I feel very guilty complaining about all of this," I said suddenly.

"Don't, girl. Don't at all." She stirred the pot a few more times before lowering the heat to a simmer, then moved to the small kitchen table to sit next to me. "Look, Noah's a good kid. I said that already, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"He is, don't get that wrong. But you... well, you come from a bit of a different situation. How much has he told you about his background?"

"I know he's been, um, in prison, if that's what you mean."

"That's part of what I mean, yeah, but it's good that you know that." She sighed and sipped her wine. "There's no deep dark secrets or anything, not that I know of. Noah's had some trouble in the past, but he's grown up a lot. He lived with us here for a few months a couple years back. Tom does that with his company, you know. Tom had trouble with the law when he was young, got out of that life, started up a construction business. He hires a lot of kids like Noah, wants to see 'em succeed. Shannon's lived with us since before Noah did, does the books for the business now. Duncan's just getting on his feet now, too."

"I didn't know that."

"No reason for you to. Think Noah probably would've stayed, but he hates the city. Don't blame him. You grow up in the mountains, you want mountain life. But he keeps in touch, lets us know he's okay. He's looking for something. Don't think he knows what it is yet, but he's searching." She looked at me pointedly. "You're a sweet girl. I can tell that by looking at you. Just remember, Noah's had a very different life than you."

I promised her I would, though I wasn't entirely sure what she was trying to actually say.

**

Wine flowed freely in Tom and Jenny's house, and even more so once we finished dinner. To my credit, I didn't drink excessively, but over the course of the evening, had enough to leave a tingling buzz in my head.

Noah was more relaxed than I had ever seen him, although in fairness, I'd known him less than a week. Even still, he was as protective as me as ever, making sure I was comfortable and happy.

I was relaxed, too. Jenny was one of the nicest people I had ever met, and though Shannon was guarded at first, she reminded me strongly of Noah. Tom was overwhelmingly friendly, earnest in a buoyant way, and so easy to like that I hoped our two-day stay wouldn't be the last time I would see him. Duncan was quieter, but he talked a lot with Noah, looking up to him like he was truly his brother. Even Robbie, who ended up leaving to spend the night with the girl Tom had mentioned earlier, was kind and welcoming.

The dynamic of that random assortment of people who I had never met before was more like a family than my own.

"Come out for a smoke, Noah," Tom boomed.

"I don't smoke, man."

"Good man. But come out, in any case. Duncan, you too."

"You need to quit that nasty shit," Shannon said, shaking her head.

"Don't judge me just because I sin differently than you," Duncan shot back.

Tom clapped him on the shoulder. "You're learning. Good."

"You good?" Noah asked me. I nodded and he touched my shoulder gently as he slipped behind my chair. "Back in a few."

"How are you actually doing, Lacey?" Jenny asked as the men closed the back door.

"I'm good. I really am." I smiled at her as I sipped my wine. "I was just thinking that you guys are like a family."

"Not like, we are one," Shannon said. "Even Noah. You too, now."

"Everyone who comes through these doors is part of my family," Jenny said. "Tom and I, we never had kids. So we have you kids, instead."

"Still time to have kid-kids," Shannon said.

"Ah, time, but no time." Jenny filled her glass again. "And no wine. That's a hard deal-breaker."

I shouldn't have brought up family, because the next thought in my mind was of my own. Jenny noticed my smile fade.

"You thinking 'bout your parents?"

"Am I really that easy to read?"

"Like a book, girl." She patted my hand. "You said you been ignoring their calls?"

"Yeah. After my father yelled at me, I just couldn't." I took a breath, finally saying out loud what had been on my mind for days. "I don't think I want to go back home. I don't think they'd want me back, but I don't want to live there anymore."

"You should try to talk to them," Jenny said. "Not sayin' it'll fix anything, but to at least get yourself some closure."

"Call 'em," Shannon added. "Now, while you're thinking it. Otherwise you're gonna stall and stall and never actually do it."

"Yeah," I said. "I should."

They meant well with their advice, I knew they did. It wasn't Jenny and Shannon's fault that after a few more glasses of wine than I was used to, I decided it was good advice.

I excused myself from the table and walked to Duncan's room. It was just after 10:00PM in Toronto, which meant it was just after 9:00PM back home. Certainly still early enough to call.

I didn't turn the lights on. For some reason, sitting in the dark felt more appropriate. I perched on the edge of Duncan's bed and pulled my phone out.

"Please, God," I mumbled, though I wasn't even sure what I was praying for.

Force of habit made me select the home phone number. It was only when it was ringing and I hoped that my mom would answer that I thought maybe I should have just called her cell phone.

"Lacey?"

I closed my eyes.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Let me guess, you're stranded somewhere and you're ready to come crawling home. My prodigal daughter, begging forgiveness. Or is it too much to think you've already learned your lesson?"

My throat had gone dry. I wished I'd brought my glass of wine with me.

"Is Mom there?"

"You can talk to me or you can hang up."

I stayed silent.

"Where are you?"

"I'm staying with friends."

"That boy? Noah?"

My stomach twisted. Mom had told him what Sean had told her.

"I told you God would know if you sinned."

"I called because I wanted to tell you I don't want to come home."

He snorted into the phone. "Where did I go wrong? That's what I'd just love to know. Your brother ends up a faggot. You end up a whore. Did I not tell you what happens to sinners? Did my children really turn out to be such morons when all I did was try to teach them how to live eternally?"

"I don't want to be like you."

"I'm disgusted. I'm disappointed and disgusted."

"Goodbye, Daddy."

"If you hang up this phone, you can never come back. Understand? You are gone. You are dead to me."

"That's okay. I forgive you, Daddy."

I hung up the phone without listening to his response, pressing it to my chest as I stared unseeingly in front of me.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was because I needed that closure, like Jenny had said. There was an unexpected lack of emotion in me as I finished the last conversation I would ever have with my father.

I should have been upset. He did call me a whore, after all.

I should have wanted to cry, mourn, grieve the loss of my family.

I should have been panicked, knowing that there was a dwindling amount of money in my chequing account, that all my possessions were gone aside from the few days' worth of clothes that were in my backpack.

Instead, I was numb.

The men must have come back in from the yard just a few minutes after I'd gone to the bedroom. Jenny and Shannon must have had just enough time to explain where I was for me to end the call with my father and stare blankly for a minute or two, because Noah entered the room almost instantly.

"Tell me you didn't call," he said.

"I called."

"Fuck!" He sat down next to me on the bed. "You shouldn't... you shouldn't call people when you've been drinking."

"I'm not drunk."

We could both hear the flatness in my voice.

"You okay?"

I nodded.

"What happened?"

A giggle burst from my lips, surprising both of us.

"I've been disowned for being a whore."

Noah stared at me as I laughed uncontrollably. I flopped back on the bed, still clutching the phone to my chest as tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, laughing until I couldn't breathe.

When I finally began to calm down, Noah lay down beside me, resting on his side so he could look at me.

"Are you actually okay?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

I turned my head towards him. "Maybe tomorrow I won't be. Right now, I feel relieved."

"Maybe we should—"

I cut him off with a kiss, hard and demanding. It caught Noah off-guard and he nearly fell backwards off the bed. He was wearing his jean jacket and I grabbed the front, pulling him back toward me to kiss him again.

He kissed me back for a moment, but when I moved to wind my fingers through his hair, he moved away.

"Wait, Lacey—"

"Please, Noah?"

I reached for him again, but he caught my arm and held it tightly. I tried to pull it back from him but he held me in place, preventing me from moving at all.

"No."

"Noah—"

"You've been drinking and you just had a pretty big thing happen. This is not—"

"I've been disowned for being a whore, so why not? I might as well do what I'm being disowned for."

"You're not a whore. Stop acting like this," he growled. "Lacey, stop. I'm not fucking you like this."

His words made me recoil and I stopped struggling. Noah let go of my arm and moved off the bed.

"Robbie isn't coming home tonight. I'm going to sleep downstairs with Duncan. You... you should go to bed now, okay?"

"Okay."

When the door closed softly behind him, I finally started crying, and fell asleep with tears still streaming down my cheeks.

**

Going to bed before everyone else meant I was awake before everyone else.

It was also Sunday, and years of church-going meant my biological alarm clock had conditioned me to wake up just past sunrise on Sundays.

There was a short, blissful moment just after opening my eyes that I was free from worry, ignorant to the events of the previous evening. When I remembered where I was, what my father had said, and why Noah wasn't beside me, it all came flooding back, along with the realization that my head was pounding.

Apparently, I had been at least a little drunk.

I was nearly catatonic with embarrassment. My stomach was tense, tightened knots of humiliation nearly making me curl up in a ball. My eyes were painfully dry and my cheeks tight with withered tears. Words swirled maddeningly through my head, echoes of what had started as one of the best nights of my life and ended as the worst.

I'm disappointed and disgusted. Whore.

Noah's had a very different life than you.

I'm not fucking you like this. Stop.

There didn't seem to be any tears left in my body, so I was stuck simply listening to the imagined reiterations of those voices as they worked together to break my heart.

I fucked up.

I was a fuck up.

Was it possible to die from embarrassment? Part of me wanted to find out, to simply stay in that bed forever and never leave. If I did that, Noah would eventually come to the room and find me. I very likely wouldn't be dead, because he'd come to the room and find me in just a few hours. Then I would have to talk to him, own up to what I had done.

Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe Noah would never want to see me again, and Jenny would be the one to come to the room, explaining to me that he had left, and I would have to walk out in front of all the new friends I had met and shamefully leave the house.

Either way, the thought of Jenny and Tom and Shannon staring at me as I walked out was too much to handle. I didn't want to see their pity, their judgement.

It was time to run away again.

The problem in trusting Noah to get us here is that I didn't really know where I was or how to get anywhere else. I knew where the bus stop was, but not what number would get me where I needed to go or even how often it came by. I was running low on money, but taking a cab was my best bet. However, I didn't want to risk making a phone call to order one.

In my small town, Uber wasn't a thing, but Toronto was a city. I had never used it before, but how hard could it be?

As it turned out, not that hard. Even I was able to figure out how to work the app, and as the previous day's events had shown, I was an idiot. The most difficult part was deciding where, exactly, I wanted the Uber to take me.

I could go to the airport. I could call Sean, tell him I wanted the plane ticket. He'd want to know why, and I would have to fess up to what happened. The thought of telling my brother about my idiotic actions made my stomach tense up all over again.

There was only one other place I knew in Toronto, one place where I knew I could wait for the next 24 hours. I could try to get tickets for the morning train instead of the midday one and maybe be in Montreal by the afternoon, where I could forget all about the previous day. I could brush off Noah's absence by saying he decided to stay at Tom and Jenny's and never have to speak of him again.

A bottle of water sat beside the bed. I didn't remember bringing it to the room, but I used it to swallow an Advil, then splashed some on my face to wipe off the dried tears. I didn't stop to brush my teeth or use the bathroom, not wanting to risk waking anyone up. I packed up my backpack, ordered the Uber to pick me up at the end of the street, and waited until it said the driver was about three minutes away before dashing quietly from the room and out the front door.

**

It was pouring rain.

Between the quick jaunt to the end of the road to catch my Uber and the frantic scurrying to get from the Uber to the train station, I was soaked. The hoodie I had put on was the only one I had, and I peeled it off once I got inside, draping it on the chair next to me while I shivered and tried to wring out my hair.

The station was comparatively quiet when I first arrived, but grew busier as the hours went on. Eventually, people stopped arriving wearing raincoats and shaking water from their umbrellas, and I looked out to see the sun gleaming brightly. By that point, my clothes had mostly dried, but I was still bone-chillingly cold. I thought about going out in the sun just to warm up, but the numb sadness that had defined the entire morning kept me from moving. I couldn't even bring myself to pray, let alone leave the bench. Instead, I turned back forward and closed my eyes, clutching my damp backpack to my chest.

Even with my eyes closed, I knew it was him before he sat down.

"How did you find me?" I asked.

"You know like, two places in Toronto," replied Noah.

His voice was serious, but I could hear a quiet thread of laughter as he spoke. The sound of it pricked painfully at my heart.

"Sure, laugh at me because I'm a moron."

"Not laughing at you. And you're not a moron."

I sighed, opening my eyes. "Just get the lecture over with."

"What lecture?"

"'I was worried, Lacey,'" I said, trying to mimic his serious voice. "You're too dumb to run around Toronto by yourself. Now let's talk about your terrible decisions last night so you can feel even shittier about all of it'."

"I don't sound like that."

I tried not to laugh, but the trace of a smile cracked through.

He hesitantly touched my arm. "You're freezing."

"Doesn't matter."

Before I knew what was happening, he was shrugging off his jacket. "Here."

"I don't need—"

He didn't listen, just wrapped the large jacket over my shoulders. It hung off of me loosely, delightfully warm from his body heat. I tried not to let the light scent of him relax me as the denim enveloped me, but it was very, very difficult.

After a few long moments of silence, Noah spoke again.

"Jenny and Shannon wanted to apologize for pressing you to call your parents."

"Not their fault."

"No, but they feel bad. They didn't know the situation."

"I made my own choice."

"Still. I said I'd pass it on."

"Tell them it's okay."

"I wanted to apologize for—"

"Don't." My response was harsh, snapped in a way I didn't know was possible for me as my stomach curled and tensed.

He fell silent again. I closed my eyes briefly, my face contorting as the wounds from my embarrassment reopened and flooded me with shame.

"It's my fault, I'm sorry." The words were quiet, gravelly, unlike my voice. "I feel so stupid."

"Walking away from you wasn't what I should've done," Noah said. "Should've been there for you."

"That's not your responsibility."

"Promised to keep you safe."

"What, you think I'm a danger to myself?"

"You hurting?"

The words made me pause and I finally glanced towards him. He was looking back at me, his face open and unguarded, poignantly sincere.

I couldn't think of anything to say but the truth.

"Yes."

"Then I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Hurting."

He seemed surprised by the question, and the fact that it surprised him made me feel worse. Noah had been there for me through the strangest, most complicated, most exhilarating and painful and freeing week of my life. The fact that it had been so one-sided was a failure on my part.

"No," he finally answered. "I understand."

I didn't have enough grace left in me to accept that without crying.