“Thanks, I’ll be fine,” I told the attendant.
She left me alone after reminding me I could call them if I needed anything. They were closing, but I could linger for a while longer if I wanted to.
Still sitting on the side of the stone bed, I considered going up to my room, a little embarrassed after what had happened. But then I reclined again, curled up on my side, willing myself to stay awake as I invited the demons of my past to haunt me one more time, now, when I could fight them fairly. When I could put them to rest forever.
It was about time. It had been more than ten years since that day.
6
Memories
“There’s one!” Colton’s excited voice resounded in the stillness of the night. For a moment, I was afraid someone might hear us.
The faint smell of livestock mixed in the humid air with the scents of sagebrush and mesquite, and a hint of burned wood coming from afar. We were sitting in the back of Colton’s Chevy truck, stargazing on a hot mid-August night, counting shooting stars and making secret wishes on every one of them. “And another! Whoa!” he exclaimed, pointing at a green trail of fire. “Did you see that?”
“Uh-huh, yeah, I did. Made a wish, too.” We were in the middle of a barren field, a couple of miles away from my father’s farm and from everything and everyone. Colton’s arm was wrapped around my shoulders, the summer night was sweltering, and yet I still shivered.
All my prayers and my shooting stars were wasted on one single wish. On one person. My father.
Please don’t let him hurt me again.
“What’s wrong, baby? You’re trembling.” Colton wrapped both his arms around me, and his lips found mine. I pulled myself closer, my lips not leaving his, my fingertips finding his bare chest under his unbuttoned plaid shirt.
“Marry me,” he whispered, his lips still touching mine.
I froze, my chest swelling with happiness to hear him say those words, and my eyes stinging with tears, knowing it could never happen.
“Marry me, baby.” Colton pulled away to look at me. His blue eyes sparkled, giving his boyish face a mischievous charm that was impossible to resist. “I’ll take care of you. I got that job at the gas sta—”
“I’m sixteen, Colton!” I shouted, angry with myself for not being able to say yes, and with him for making me feel such pain. He shouldn’t’ve asked. “Do you think he’ll give us permission?” Colton didn’t say anything. Just gaped at me. “And what would we do? How would we live? I haven’t even finished school.”
But there was something I wasn’t telling him because I couldn’t find the words. Something I took with me that night when I ran away, leaving Texas behind, and with it, my little brother, Billy Ray. Leaving Colton. Breaking his heart.
7
A Meal
The demons had come and gone, failing to scare me again. Moving slowly, I lifted myself off the heated stone bed and sat on its edge, my mind still entangled with the past.
Billy Ray ... After running away that night and leaving my little brother behind, tears streaking his scrunched face, I’d hoped he’d be okay until I got on my feet somehow and could take care of him. If I would’ve brought him with me, every cop in the state would’ve been out looking for us. They would’ve thrown me in jail for kidnapping. My younger brother would have landed in foster care.
Looking back on my life, I had nothing to be ashamed of. No matter what I’d done in those years, one thing was clear to me: I’d done what I had to. I’d survived. And, after a few years of bitter struggle, I’d learned the courage to thrive.
A low grumbling in my stomach reminded me I hadn’t had much to eat since that quick stop at the ARIA Patisserie. Hunger gnawed at me, reminiscent of those first days on my own when I’d stolen clothing off people’s lines and rummaged through garbage bins to feed myself. I hated being reminded of that. Hated it deeply.
Feeling a little lost in the large mazelike spa, I eventually found my way to the locker room. Everything was eerily deserted, the lights off ordimmed to almost nothing, though the soft, soothing sounds of instrumental harmonies still played at low volume from invisible speakers. I changed into my clothes, abandoning the plush terry bathrobe with a tinge of regret.
Perhaps I’d come back tomorrow, or someday.
“Or never,” I whispered, remembering the terrifying nightmare that had awakened me to the sound of my own screams.
Back in my suite, I spent a few minutes staring at the view offered by the expansive windows. Refusing to turn on the lights, I stood in the dark and admired the cityscape illuminated by a sea of vibrant billboards, neon and LED lights, and the iconic glow of casinos and hotels stretching into the distance.
With regret, I eventually moved away from the window, hunger being my only incentive to abandon the view. For a moment, I considered getting dressed for dinner and starting to explore the restaurants sprinkled throughout the resort. But there was a weariness left in me from my afternoon at the spa—from my incursion into the past more than anything. It had drained me, scared me a little, and weakened my very core.
Grinding my teeth with disappointment and frustration in myself, I ordered way too much room service from the menu I found stacked neatly on the small desk by the phone.
A couple of hours later, after I finished brushing my teeth, I was ready to work, and everything else was forgotten. As it should be, bygones being bygones and all that. If only they’d stay bygones forever.
