Peyton had lost his dad to a car accident when he was still a baby. His older sister moved out and went away to college when Peyton started high school. Since his mother worked the night shift at a local hospital, Peyton was used to eating alone and keeping himself entertained when she wasn’t there. Sometimes in ways she definitely wouldn’t have approved of.
As soon as he stepped through the door he started his nightly ritual. He flipped on every light in the house except the one in his mom’s room. Then he turned on the widescreen television in their den. Last, he turned on the television and the stereo system in his bedroom.
When he’d first started what seemed like a personal quest to single-handedly keep their local power company in business, Peyton’s mom had complained fiercely. She didn’t appreciate the rising cost of her monthly utility bill.
So Peyton had been forced to pull out the big gun in parental guilt tripping. He complained about being left home alone so much while his mother worked long hours as an emergency room nurse. Sure enough, that did the trick. His mom never mentioned the bill to him again.
Once his immediate surroundings were illuminated and filled with sound, Peyton got busy on the dinner his mom had left in the fridge for him. She knew how to rattle some pots and pans, and perhaps to ease more of that pesky old parental guilt, she always fixed his favorite meals.
Tonight’s selection was a spicy Thai dish Peyton really loved. He ate it cold while he sat in front of the widescreen television. Normally he wouldn’t have eaten in the den. He didn’t like the feelings that room stirred up when he was home alone.
The den was where his mom displayed a lot of pictures of her late husband. She thought it was important for her son to have abundant visual mementos of his father, since Peyton had been so young when he’d passed away.
Sometimes Peyton thought it was kind of pointless. How do you miss something you barely remember having?
Nights like tonight--when he’d had cool moments messing around with Halloran--made it especially painful being around all those reminders of what was absent from his life, yet he’d chosen that spot to eat his dinner.
Looking at the photos of the handsome, fun loving man he would never really know made Peyton’s food stick in his throat. That, in turn, made his thoughts drift to the ridiculous possibility of a slow, painful demise from choking to death on his mom’s Thai food.
For some reason, though, he’d felt compelled to subject himself to the pain of being alone in this room with the photographs and mementos that rattled those ghostly chains. The chains which anchored him to his dead father.
As much as he hated to admit it, Peyton knew exactly why he was there in that space. Serenity. Plain and simple. Whenever Sage forced him to talk about her or some random stimulus caused memories of her to hijack his thoughts, he felt the need to punish himself. Not so much because of something he’d personally done to her, but the things he’d wanted to do, and the things some other doggish, horny boy had succeeded in doing.
After all, wasn’t that why she was dead? Because some dick had spilled his seed in her, got her pregnant, then left her to deal with the situation on her own? In so many ways, Peyton was that boy. A boy who used girls for what he could get then cast them aside like old basketball shoes.
As much as Peyton recognized that in himself, he felt powerless to fix it. He needed all those connections with random females. Nothing else seemed to fill that gaping hole inside him. That place just below the surface of his emotions where he buried his longing for a father he never got to know. The same place he hid his desire for a relationship like the one Sage and Halloran shared.
Sitting there in front of the television, Peyton forced the food into his mouth and choked it down with tears. Tears for dead Serenity, and tears for his dead father.
Chapter 11
Tia’s phone rang just before she sprinted out the door for school. She almost didn’t answer it, but when she glimpsed Raven’s number on the caller ID, she scooped it up with a quickness. It had to be something juicy or it could’ve waited until they hooked up at their lockers.
“Hey, girl. What up? Why aren’t you on your way to school?” Tia asked.
Raven cleared her throat, “I feel like shit, T. Cramps. You know how it is.”
“Yeah. I feel you. So what’s up? You want company or something?”
Tia perked up at the thought of a ditch day--even if it was with Raven.
“Nah. Actually, I need a favor. Think you could do something for me?”
“For sure. You know I got your back. What is it?” Tia asked.
“There’s a little problem I need to fix…”
Tia got to school early, before the masses started rolling in. She casually strolled down an empty hallway until she came to a particular locker. She glanced over her shoulder then reached into her purse and pulled out a note. Tia slipped the note into one of the slots on the locker door. A devious grin spread across her face.
By the time Jasmin made it to the same hallway it vibrated with activity. She forged through the crush of bodies with an easy, determined stride. When she reached the row of lockers she stepped to hers and spun the lock.
Jasmin unlatched the door, and a note fell out. She smiled. Must be from Sage. She scooped the note up and unfolded it.
Her smile faded as soon as she started reading: Bitch, stay away from my man. Or I'll mop this school with your ass!
The words made Jasmin’s breath catch in her throat. She flung the note away from her, scrubbing her hands on her shirt like she'd been contaminated by some caustic substance. She bit her lip to stall the tears pooling in her eyes.
A random foot in the crowd stepped squarely on the note and kept right on trekking. The sight of the dirty black shoeprint contrasted against the clean white paper made Jasmin’s vision blur.
She snatched the note off the ground and crammed it in her backpack. Jasmin scanned the sea of faces swirling around her, foolishly thinking she could get a fix on a likely suspect. Even if she had seen Tia hanging around a few lockers away from hers, Jasmin wouldn’t have recognized her as someone to be leery of.
Royally pissed and deeply hurt, she slammed the locker door shut. She tucked her head down and tackled the swirling concourse of bodies in the hallway.
At lunchtime the cafeteria was full of the usual chaos--blaring music, banging trays, unceasing chatter. Sage walked in. He zoned in on Jasmin right away. Sage bounded over to her table like a big goofy puppy. All smiley-faced, he confidently commandeered a seat across from her.
"Hey, what's up?" he chirped.
Jasmin gave him a look icy enough to induce frost-bite. She grabbed her things and switched tables. Sage followed her, his face full of question marks.
"Hey, what's wrong? What did--" Sage asked.
"Stay away from me, okay? Don't speak to me. Don’t call me. Don't even let me cross your thoughts. You’re a liar, Sage. And the last thing I need in my life is another lying man." Jasmin threw a wadded napkin at his chest to emphasize her point. She got up and stormed out of the room.
Sage was paralyzed, too stunned to give chase.
At home after school, Sage sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. The phone rang. He ignored two rings. Then something dawned on him and he lunged for the cordless. It might be Jasmin.
"Hello!" He didn’t even try to disguise his breathlessness.
"Sage?" It was Raven.
Sage exhaled loudly.
"Yeah. What do you want?"
"I need to see you. Can you come over?" said Raven.
The sound of tears in her voice softened the tension in his body.
"What's wrong, Raven?" he asked. His tone a lot more patient than it had been seconds ago.
"Just come. Please?" Raven wept softly into his ear.
"Calm down, okay? I'm on my way. See you in a few." Sage grabbed his keys and dashed out the door.
They sat on the couch in her living room. Raven sniffled, passing a tissue from one hand to the other. Her eyes were puffy from crying. There was a faint bruise on one side of her face, and her nose was slightly swollen.
Sage couldn’t stop staring at the marks on her. He rubbed her back to try and distract himself.
"This have anything to do with me being here the other day?" Sage asked.
"No. She had a rough day at work. Came home in a bad mood. Guess I was the easiest thing to take it out on."
"She ever hit you before?"
"A few times. Not in the face though. That's why I skipped--"
Sage gave her the side eye.
"Hold up. She’s hit you before, and you haven't reported her to somebody? You don’t have to take that kind of treatment, Raven. Can’t you get out? Live with someone else?"
"There is no one else, Sage. Nowhere else to go.”
“But there’s got to be some—“
“What? You mean foster care? I've been in places like that before. Trust me, this is nothing compared to what they do to you in some of those homes."
Raven crossed her arms over her chest. She bent over at the waist.
"What about the rest of your family? Your mom and dad?"
"Hah,” Raven snorted, popping upright. “Mama was fourteen when she had me. Daddy was nineteen. He still lived here with Granny."
Sage’s hand stopped making circles on her back.
"I know. It’s some Jerry Springer shit, right? Granny came to my mom’s place to pick me up one day. She found me sitting in a laundry basket, wearing a diaper I'd probably had on for days.”
Raven’s eyes glazed over, picturing memories she really didn’t care to reacquaint herself with.
“The families passed me back and forth, until the court finally awarded Granny custody. I’ve been here ever since. She wasn't always like this, Sage. Besides…I'm not always easy to be around."
Sage barely managed to stifle a nod of his head. Raven noticed, cut her eyes at him.
"Sorry. I just…I mean…yeah, you can be a little aggressive.”
Raven banged her knee against his.
"I know. You don’t have to tell me. I can be a mean bitch. But sometimes I just feel like I'm going to explode.” Raven balled her fists. “People mess with me and I want to beat them down. Share some real pain with them. Except for Granny. I owe her. If this is the price I have to pay--"
"That doesn't make what she does to you right, Raven. Nobody has to put up with beatings like this. Slavery days are over, girl!"
"I know. It’s crazy, huh? Things we do in the name of love," said Raven.
Sage shrugged, "I guess. You ever see your folks? Hear from them?" he asked.
"My dad used to stop by. Not so much lately. And my mom? Who knows where she is? But it’s cool. Doesn't bother me.”
Raven’s mouth said one thing, but the tears welling in her eyes said another.
“If I had more contact with them, I'd probably be just as messed as they are. And that's never going to happen. No matter what it takes. I’m doing big things with my life. You watch."
Raven squared her shoulders and set her mouth in a hard line. It was a weak attempt at easing back into her tough girl persona, but she stopped to blow her nose, and blew the whole damn effect in the process.
Cut it out, girl! Bad bitches don’t cry, she thought.
That deep gouge in her otherwise steely facade, gave Sage a glimpse at who she really was. Raven was a sad, vulnerable, overlooked girl who just wanted somebody to love her unconditionally. He noticed something else, too. Raven was beautiful. Even with the marks on her face the beauty shone through.