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I know he won’t drink, for the sole reason of the alcoholism and addiction that runs in his family. But he is in such a dark place, there is no saying how he willtry to pull himself out of it.
I drive around all day looking for him or his truck, never finding either. The first day I drove around Penbrooke, looking everywhere. I even drive to the prison his father is in which is over an hour away. My parents check in often hoping to hear some good news, only to reassure me when I don’t have any.
The anger I feel towards his father is unreal. I’ve never been so angry with anyone like the way I feel now. I saw that awful man and now I keep imagining him beating a scared and little Elliot. His eyes held no love or goodness. He is a monster.
While it scared me to see Elliot snap like that, I don’t blame him at all. It was years and years’ worth of hurt and trauma built up. His father had provoked him in a cruel way. I knew the look on Elliot’s face before he walked away was shame and embarrassment. He is ashamed of how he acted. He is embarrassed that my family and I witnessed that, and he is embarrassed that that man is his father. I wish he would have stuck around long enough for us to tell him how much we love him and cherish him.
I pray that he will come back to me. My heart is breaking with every second he stays away.I am driving around with Ana on the second day without him when I spot his truck. My heart stops.
We are a few towns over from St. James, closer to Penbrooke, and it is parked on the side of a busy main street. I pull into the closest spot before jumping out and running over to it. I can’t believe we found it. The truck is empty. I feel the hood; it is ice cold.
I spend over an hour walking around the area, looking in every store, restaurant and office front that is in close proximity to his truck. I ask everyone who passesme if they’ve seen him.
Ana finally convinces me to leave because it is getting dark, promising me we cancome back here first thing tomorrow. Before leaving, I dig around my backpack in my backseat and find a sticky note and a pen and write him a quick note before running back to stick it on his window. I shove it into the crease between the window and door frame to make sure it won’t fall.
I pray he will find it and come home.
I am laying on the couch, but I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept more than two hours since Elliot left that cemetery.
It is past midnight when I hear the knocking on the door.I jump to my feet, run to the door and quickly look through the peephole. Elliot.
I can finally breathe again. I swing open the door so hard I almost fall over. He is still wearing his black suit from the funeral. He looks terrible, ragged and tired.
He looks at me, with a broken expression and eyes lined with silver. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I jump up and launch myself into his arms, wrapping my arms and legs around him and he holds me tight as he walks me inside and closes the door. He stands there holding me for a long time before I finally lift my head and he immediately sets me on the floor.
“Where have you been?” I ask, the joy and relief that he is here and safe isquickly replaced by hurt and anger.
He rubs his head with his hands. “I was just driving for the first day, but then I ran out of gas and I just left my car on the street. I walked until I found a bar. I just stayed there.”
“A bar?” I ask quietly, hesitantly. “Were you drinking?”
“I wanted to,” He says softly. “But I didn’t.”
“I was terrified,” I whisper. He looks down at me, and I can see the apology in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Mads. I’m so, so sorry,” He whispers, his eyes are watering.
“You can’t do that,” I say, my voice shaking. “You can’t push me away like that.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve been driving all over this freakin’ state, looking for you, praying that you were safe and alive,” I say, my voice growing louder.
He winces, closing his eyes. He nods. “I’m sorry.”
“Why did you leave?” I ask, tears falling down my face.
He looks at the couch, silently asking me if we can sit. I walk over wordlessly and sit, and he sits next to me. “I…I was so ashamed. Mortified. I can’t believe you and your family saw my father. I can’t believe I lost my mind the way I did,” He says, his voice breaking.
I look at him, waiting for him to continue.
“I hate that he still has so much control over me, even after all this time,” He says, putting his head in his hands. “And when your dad defended me, and Ana defended me. When they lied for me, without even a second thought….I don’t deserve that, Mads. I don’t deserve their love. I don’t deserve yours.”
“You’re wrong. You know you’re wrong,” I say softly, but fiercely.
“I’m not. You’re too good for me. I’ve always known that…but to see you next to my father…to see how different we are…I was so scared. I hate that you saw him, I hate that you saw me like that…” He stops.
