A Boy I Used to Love(50)

Turned out a bolt of lightning had hit a branch and dropped it into the roof. That was just the beginning for the poor old house. Another bolt hit the house in the right spot and set it on fire. The inside was so worn out, it was nothing but kindling. And when it went up, it was up fast.

The firefighters' job was to put out the fire and contain it to just that spot to keep it from spreading anywhere else in the woods and surrounding areas.

Richie thanked the firefighter and turned to face us.

"Well we got lucky there," Richie said. "Shit. That's too close for comfort. That storm was a bitch. Those trees up at my place were sideways. I swore the entire cabin was going to lift off the ground and spin away like something out of a tornado movie."

River nodded, but he was staring at the smoke.

I felt his hand slowly open from mine, and I quickly grabbed it with both of mine.

"Sorry to interrupt your day there," Richie said. "I'm heading back up."

"See you later," River said in a cold, monotone voice.

I looked at the house then, too.

The two pillars from the porch were still standing, but the roof of the porch had fallen to one side.

I remembered standing at the pillar, waiting for River to come back from one his fights. Just me and the crickets. The summer heat. Being so alone and scared, but finding comfort when River would come back to me. Sweating from fighting. Sometimes bloody. But he always won. And he was always smiling. He was always so beautiful.

It made me hate the situation even more.

"It's gone," River whispered. "Fuck, darling, our house."

I put my head to his arm. "No, River, it wasn't our house. And it's not gone from our memory." 

"Is this all a sign?" he asked.

"What?"

"The second we try to get together, this happens."

"What do you mean?"

River broke away from me and ran his hands through his hair.

The rumble of the firetrucks echoed, along with the splashing water. The smell clung to the insides of my nose and my lungs. That heavy, burnt smell.

River walked to his truck and slammed his fists against the hood.

I felt like I was in some kind of deja vu moment with him.

"River," I said as I approached.

He looked back at me. I'd never seen him cry before.

But he blinked fast, tears in his eyes.

"I'll never forgive myself for not saving you," he said.

"Saving me … "

"Lacey, I knew you were engaged before."

"What?"

"I had someone find you. Just to check on you. And you were …  happy."

"You had someone check on me?" I asked. "Why didn't you … "

"I couldn't," he said. "I was figuring out my next move and then I found out you were getting engaged."

"Getting? You knew about it before me?"

"You said yes," River said. "To another man."

"I left," I said. "I left because it would have been a lie. It was a lie. Everything was a lie. Except you, River. Until now."

I turned and wanted to run.

I couldn't even take a step, though.

All I could see was the charred remains of the house where River first taught me how to feel like a woman. Where he first touched me, showed the ways of his body and what it felt like to appreciate my own needs. Where I discovered my wants.

Where I fell in love and vowed the rest of my life to him.

And ten years later …  history was repeating itself again …  because I felt empty, alone, and lost.





River





FIVE YEARS AGO





I sat up from the weight bench and a guy named Pin sat on another bench, dressed in a nice suit, a fancy hat in his hands. Everyone called him Pin because he had a really fat head. I'm talking weirdly huge for his body. So, the running joke was that if you poked him with a pin, his head would pop.

He worked with a legit boxing company and wanted me to sign up. He was promoting a few fights and wanted me on the card. The pay was shit and the winnings were shit. The exposure was the allure of it all.

"It's been a week," he said, and checked his gold watch. "What's the answer?"

"I haven't heard back from my end yet," I said.

I went back on the bench and grabbed the bar. I couldn't stop lifting. I couldn't get out of the gym. When I got tired, I would go into the ring and work on my moves. The old man that owned the shitty building that was once a prominent boxing school was Pin's great uncle Tommy. He wore so many damn gold bracelets he couldn't lift his arms past his hips because they were weighted down. He gave me a key a month ago and told me I could stay there as long as I kept the place clean.

Fuck, it was a palace to me.

A free gym. Heavy bags. A working fridge. A shower that sometimes spit out hot water.