Chapter Twenty-Seven – Roxy

I’m trying to fight the pounding in my head and throbbing in my cheek by staring at the blank screen of my cell phone. The afternoon sun is glaring through the dirty window, illuminating my bed and dancing off the screen.

I haven’t switched the phone on since I left Verity Point. It’s stayed in the drawer of the night stand, off, probably collecting messages. Such a huge part of me wants to turn it on to see them, but I know they’ll make me go back and I can’t.

I head out of my motel room and walk downtown. The fresh air helps to clear my head, and when my legs get sore from walking, I detour to McDonalds and order a Happy Meal. I open the box and pull out the toy. Optimus Prime.

Kyle’s favorite.

Sigh. I tuck the tiny figure into my pocket and stare out the window as I eat. If it’s not Cam, its Kyle, and vice versa. One of them is always in my head and hurting my heart. Time flies as I sit here, letting the world pass me by.

And I’m wondering if I’m numb always. Is there too much pain inside me that I really can’t feel anything anymore? No. I can still feel – it’s why they encompass my every waking moment, stealing my thoughts.

I stare at my cell again and turn it on, switching it to airplane mode before any messages come through. It’s to the point I don’t even know the date. Last night was a wake up call, a kick up the ass, but that doesn’t change the fact I’ve spent all day every day in a state of oblivion since I left home.

Shit. The date.

I go to my calendar, and I’m taunted by the red dot on the space showing five days ago. Taunted. Warned. Threatened. It stares at me and I blink at it, frozen in this spot. I don’t know how I missed that.

I don’t know how I missed being late.

~

Run. That was my first thought as I left McDonalds two days ago. Run and hide and get out of Portland. I can’t drink now – how can I? How can I do that knowing there could be something… a baby… growing inside me? I can’t. No way.

I left the restaurant, stopped by a drugstore and the motel, and got the bus back to Verity. For the last two days I’ve been hiding out at the gorge trying to clear my head.

I need to run, and this is the only place I have to hide.

My hand grazes over the tree trunks while I walk around aimlessly. The rough bark is much like my thoughts; chopping and changing every second. I can barely think straight for all the craziness up there right now.

I know hiding isn’t the answer, and I know I can’t hide up here forever, but I can’t go home without knowing. It would be easier if I could talk to someone about this, but I can’t. If I’m too scared to answer myself there’s no way I can answer someone else right now.

Besides, the one person that needs the answer isn’t around. The one person that deserves the truth and would hold me as I wait isn’t here. That’s something I only have myself to blame for.

I pushed him away. I pushed him away with the same force I held him to me with so many times. I’d do anything to pull him back to me right now. I’m just too stubborn to apologize.

I’m too stubborn and afraid and guilty to grab my phone and dial his number. I’m too chicken to give him the truth he deserves. The truth he needs.

The truth that’s both our faults. It’s the age old cliché as always – caught up in the moment and forgot to use protection. I’ve never forgotten before – ever – but I did with Kyle. I forgot to reach into the drawer in my nightstand and grab the little foil packet.

If I had I wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t be hiding out like a fugitive, bathing in my own guilt and fear. I’d be in Portland still, probably, wondering what the hell to do. Wondering whether to come home or not.

Now the white box taunts me as the corner of it pokes out of my bag. It begs me to rip off the plastic wrapping and get the answer I’m so desperately craving. But I won’t. I won’t because I keep hoping I’ll get the courage to call him…even though I know it’s not gonna happen.

My cell screen blinks at me as I check through the calendar one more time like I’ve miscounted one hundred times. I haven’t.

Silence.

That’s all that’s here.

It lets me think. It makes me think.

I’ve accepted no one is going to find me up here. It really is the perfect hiding place. There’s no prying eyes, no whispers, no anything.

I didn’t go home last night. I wanted to, but I’m not ready to talk to anyone yet. I’m not ready to tell everyone what’s going on.

Hell, I need to find out for myself still.

The little white box stares at me again. The words burn into my brain, searing into my memory, and it’s just begging me to pick it up.

It’s the only way I’ll get my answer. I’m a week late now. I either am or I’m not.

I don’t know what I’ll do if I am.

I don’t know how I’ll tell Kyle.

I grab the box and pull off the plastic wrapping. My fingers run around the edges of the box, my eyes following their path.

I could know in five minutes. I could have the answer I’ve been waiting for. I could put an end to my wondering and my worrying and find out for certain.

I could.

I don’t know if I will. I don’t know if I’m still ready to know, as crazy as the not knowing is driving me.

Maybe I will.

Maybe I won’t.