I bite my lip. He’s talking about his mom in the present tense, he doesn’t even know she’s dead. Tell him! Tell him his mom didn’t leave him! Now!
However, for some reason, I can’t. I’m too agitated to bring up the subject today.
“Why did Everett hate you so much?” I quietly ask instead. I don’t understand how anyone could do such horrible things to a child for no reason.
“I don’t know.” Bren stubs out the cigarette on a rock in the creek and puts it in a plastic bag he’s pulled from his pants pocket. “He despised my mom back then because she cheated on him. And I know he hates my real father’s guts. At times, he acted like he didn’t know who it was, but he contradicted himself too many times. I think he knew exactly who my father was. He must have known him.” He’s still standing by the birch, looking at me. “Now, after India Lee’s sessions, I know my stepfather had one particular problem: humiliation. Not only is he a tormentor, but he is also extremely narcissistic. And narcissists tend to seek maximum revenge, especially when someone humiliates them. Maybe he took his revenge out on me because he was too cowardly toward my father, I don’t know. Or maybe he simply liked tormenting someone; he was like that with my mom…” He is silent for a while. Incoming sunlight breaks against his lashes, winking at me like diamonds.
Again, he told me more about himself, and again, I feel closer to him. I get up to approach him, but as soon as I put weight on my foot, pain shoots through my ankle like a butcher’s knife. I stagger sideways but Bren catches me and pulls me into his arms so my back is pressed against his stomach.
“Careful, Lou!” he says against my neck. His breath tickles. A million air bubbles burst against my skin. He holds me so tight in his arms, I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. He gently rests his chin on the top of my head and whispers, “I’d have to be crazy to ever let you go again. You couldn’t seriously have believed that.”
“You wanted to move on alone.” However, the way he’s holding me now says otherwise. It’s reminiscent of the past, which is why it is strangely calming. Like a promise: I won’t let you go. Never again.
“My mind wanted it, not me. You’re the only one who truly knows me. My darkest hours and my finest. I owe everything I am to you. And, of course, I have no right to tell you anything. If it ever happens again, just ignore me, or imagine that I spoke to the sky and the wind.”
Tell that to the wind. I need those words so badly. I need his closeness so much. I turn my head and inhale his scent. Forest, smoke, and salt. For seconds, there is nothing but this feeling of absolute familiarity. And still, he holds me so tight, all I can do is breathe, nothing else. Just breathe and feel him, that’s all I want.
Chapter
Eleven
I’m growing increasingly nervous. The countless rails in the freight depot glisten in the red sunset and disappear into nowhere as uncertain as our entire undertaking.
Bren and I have been sitting in our hideout surrounded by green shrubs since we arrived late in the afternoon. Climbing onto a boxcar unseen by security personnel is harder than one would imagine. Security checks every single car before departure, especially for stowaways. A young man with a backpack was caught and taken away this afternoon.
For that reason, we’ll have to jump on a moving train, preferably in the dark, so we won’t get discovered.
I’m getting sick just thinking about it. I’ve read horror stories about it in the newspapers over the last few years. Riders who had their legs severed because they fell under the wheels or those who were surprised by a tunnel and crushed. Most of all, I’m afraid Grey won’t be persuaded to jump onto a car.
I pet him soothingly, but Grey is relaxed. Once again, I’m the one nervously grasping his fur.
Tensely, I glance at Bren who is staring across the tracks with his brows furrowed in concentration, looking damn good despite today’s sweaty march. I certainly look like an escaped scarecrow myself. My hair is stringy and my shorts and white T-shirt are clinging to my body. Bren doesn’t appear tired or unkempt at all. I sigh loudly. Nobody should be allowed to be so beautiful with impunity.
Bren catches me looking at him. “Are you secretly watching me?”
“I’m obviously watching you!”
“And what are you thinking?”
“That I love you and that you are unearthly beautiful.”
Bren gives me a reproachful look. “Don’t you think we have other concerns?”
“It’s a way of distracting myself, sorry, not sorry.”
He nods absently and then points to the rails, whose red-orange glow is gradually fading into the twilight. “With the long trains, it’s hard to tell where they begin and end. There’s no way we can travel to Squamish, that’s where they’ll most likely be searching for us. Better would be Winnipeg, Quebec, or somewhere else. Definitely further east.”
We have no idea of the trains’ destinations, only their direction can help us make the right decision.
Bren watches a departing freight train with his signature X-ray vision. “You can’t jump on every car,” he says, pushing aside a twig. “Some don’t have ladders to pull ourselves up or they don’t have enough space.”
“I know. Above all, I don’t want to get on a chemical train, you never really know if it might explode while you’re riding it. Bang!”
Bren laughs briefly. “That won’t happen. One like that would be good”—he points to several cars rolling past with red containers—“it has room at the front and back, offering us plenty of space.”
“It’s going to be hard to run alongside a train in the dark, find a good car, and watch for security at the same time…and not lose a leg jumping.” Even this morning, I would have never dreamed of what would be in store for us. I imagined it would be relatively simple: we take our time to look for a comfortable ride and head east. Then again, I’m so naive, I usually imagine things to be simpler than they are. Like this summer for example.
“You won’t lose a leg.” Bren gives me a stern look. “You can still change your mind. If it’s too risky for you, we’ll figure out something else.”
