8 - No Escape

8

No Escape

T he internet has become my best friend.

It was something that I had avoided in terms of Isaiah during our time apart. I had no desire to know what he was up to. If he could disappear without a word, with a ring and a poem as a goodbye, if he could live without me—then so could I.

In the two weeks since he read the poems, I had discovered everything I would've known had we stayed…friends. He graduated in three years with his BA in English Literature with a minor in history and then went on to get his MFA. The poetry book came out Tuesday, and he starts teaching at a local University next week—the end of August—as a poetry professor. There are no girlfriends that I can find, at least no pictures of any on social media. It's mostly Isaiah, a few friends, and his mom. One thing I notice is the lack of his brother. Eli was always so involved, and now…it's like he never existed.

I rub my eyes, tired from staring at the screen as I move the ice around on my thighs. Next to me sits Someone Else's House. There are bits and pieces of us both on the cover. It's a deep jade green, but the tiny house sitting in the center is molded after his childhood home. A simple, two-story, brick home with shutters and a big tree in the yard. It's simple. It's beautiful. It's the only part of the book I've looked at besides the ‘about the author' section on the back.

My phone rings. "Hello?"

"Your sister told me that if you're still staring at that book, I am required to drive up and take it from you."

"Kian," I sigh, "why are you scared of my sister?"

"It's less about the fear and more about the state of your sanity." He pauses. "Not that you had much before. Not that either of you ever had, but that's beside the point."

"I hate you."

"Are you still staring at the book?"

"If I am, are you actually going to drive all the way up here just to take it?"

"Well, probably not, but come on, Ro." He sighs. "He wants to explain, to let you in."

I furrow my brows. "To let me in? He's the one who shut me out. And how do you know that the explanation is perfectly reasonable and will make up for everything? What—has he talked to you all these years?"

He hesitates. "That's not—"

"I don't want to talk about this, Kian. I'm gonna be mean, and I don't want to be. Can you just tell Soph that I'm fine, please? Love you. Kiss the kiddos for me." I don't wait for his response before I hang up.

I exhale heavily as I run a hand down my face. A takeout box with a half-eaten turkey burger and sweet potato fries sits to one side of me and the book to the other. An old record spins on my vinyl player as I sit there in Isaiah's old hoodie.

Thank God I live alone. If anyone walked in on this sight, I wouldn't even blame them for speed dialing a therapist.

I reach over, grabbing the book.

In my hands, the cover is a smooth matte, and the pages have that classic book feel I know Isaiah used to love. And even though I can't bring myself to open it, I toss it in my bag for the away game that has come at the perfect time. I love this city, but I need to get out. Ever since he's shown up, it's felt too small.

Right now, I need a moment to breathe.

Sweat drips down my nose as I backpedal. We're up by two but with probably ten minutes left. Houston, the home team, is pushing hard. The heat is scorching, and this game has been non-stop on both sides. But even though my chest heaves and my legs burn, I feel amazing. I've played a great game, the team has played a great game—we're on fire. As hard as Houston tries, they don't recover, and the game ends in our two-nothing win.

My dad falls into step beside me as we walk to the locker rooms. "Nice work out there." I glance over as he adjusts his hat. "You were a little slow when you had to cut back in on the left. That knee okay?"

The tiny piece of hope that never fully bloomed recedes. "It's fine. I tweaked it in practice, but I've got it covered."

Dad pulls the locker room door open for me. "Make sure you do. Don't want it slowing you down any further."

God, just once, would he leave it at nice work? Is that asking too much? Asking for him to be a dad and not a coach? For one split second?

I head in with a parting nod, packing my bag and already thinking about the shower I can't wait to take at the hotel. This escape hasn't been much of an escape, aside from the ninety minutes on the field. On the plane here, it was dad pointing out every mistake I made twice over from the previous game. In warm-ups, a hard pointed stare that caught every touch, every pass, every call. And now this. Maybe to someone else, it would be nothing out of the ordinary. But this was my life. All the time. Wary praise followed by an observation that was less than ideal, followed by a comment that might have meant well but never landed that way.

Everything good I did was overshadowed by a mistake.

I sit, dropping my head in my hands and massaging my temples. Viv takes a seat next to me. "You alright?"

Whether I am or not, I say, "Yeah, just exhausted." I fake a smile. I know she sees right through it. The girls know our relationship is rocky. But now isn't the time or place, and she knows that, but I'm thankful for the check-in.

She rubs a hand down my back before giving me my space. I'm thankful I did my post-game speech on the field and spoke to all my girls because I don't have it in me now. The coaches give their final thoughts before herding us onto the bus back to the hotel. I've never been more thankful to be back in the room. Even though I hate hotels and the fact that I can never trust how clean it is or how comfortable I feel, it's a relief to be away from other eyes—aside from Maazina, my roommate.

I wanted to escape home, and now, I want to escape here.

After unplugging my ear pods, I turn off do not disturb to see a text from an unknown number. I already know exactly who it is.

Unknown: Aurora, it's Isaiah. I assume you deleted my old number, but either way, I got a new one. I hope your game went well—I'm sure you played beautifully; you always do. I want to give you your space, but I really want us to talk. Please think about it. Safe travels home.

Immediately I call Sophia. "Did you give Isaiah my phone number?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

"Because he texted me, and I certainly didn't give it to him, nor did any of my teammates," I say, setting my curls free from their bun. Maazina watches me from her spot on the bed.

"Oh."

"Put Kian on the phone."

Sophia sighs, mumbling to herself, "fucking idiot" , before calling loudly for her husband.

"Hello?"

"Kian."

"No, Sophia! I don't want to talk to her."

I rearrange the pillows behind me, getting comfortable since my idiot brother-in-law thinks he can put this off. There's a bit more shouting in the background, Sophia yelling that he can suffer his own consequences and Kian threatening to cry, but eventually, I hear a reluctant sigh.

"Are you done being a baby?"

"How pissed off are you? Scale of one to ten."

It's a fair question, but I don't know. Honestly, right now, I just feel worn down. "Because I'm tired, it's a three. Do not ask me tomorrow."

"I'm sorry."

"You're not. Don't apologize when you don't mean it. Just…why?" I ask, and Maazina silently comes to sit next to me, scrolling on the TV and looking at the room service menu.

Kian paces in the background. "I…well, he was distraught, Aurora. He practically begged me."

"Having kids made you weak."

"I don't deny that."

"Good." Any fight I do have left dies. My head falls back, and my eyes close. "I'll talk to you guys later, okay?"

"That's it? You're not gonna—okay. Sounds good." He pauses. "I love you, Aurora."

"Yeah, uh-huh. I love you, too."

After hanging up, I stare at the text message. I knew I couldn't avoid it forever. I just would've preferred it to be on my terms. Then maybe I could've pushed it off further.

I read it until I have it memorized, until I can recite it.

Finally, I type out a weak response. Telling him I'll be in contact shortly after I get home and then place my phone down.

Dramatically, I groan. "I hate him."

"Isaiah? Or your brother-in-law? Who, you know, is a beautiful man."

"Gross, Maazina. You know he's married. To my sister."

She nods, popping a candy in her mouth. "Yeah, who is arguably far prettier than him. But together? It's simply not fair."

"I'm surrounded by—"

"Don't finish that sentence, or I won't give you any candy."

I hold out my hand, and candy is dropped into my palm. "To answer your question: both." I wish it were true.

"Would be easier that way, wouldn't it?"

My head falls back. "So much."

A knock on the door connecting us and another room sounds before it opens. Vivian and Sylvia stand in the doorway. "Can we come in?"

"Of course."

They make themselves comfortable in the room, specifically on the bed we're on.

"He texted her," Maazina says, shoving candy in her mouth. I pinch her arm. "What? You were gonna tell them eventually, and if you're gonna talk to him, may as well talk to us first." Her words are jumbled and barely decipherable, but we all understand.

Sylvia gives me a gentle smile. When other people do that, it's so obvious that most times, they're trying to hide their pity. But Sylvia makes you feel understood. "She told us about the poetry."

"Don't remind me." I haven't stopped thinking about it since. The book, though I can barely fathom opening it, is tucked away at the bottom of my bag.

"I mean, my God, you guys should've been there. He only read two…but that was some of the sappiest shit I've ever heard. I loved it."

"Why don't you buy the book then?" I mumble as Viv laughs.

Maazina raises a brow. "I did."

"Traitor."

"To defeat your enemy, you must know your enemy."

Vivian stares. "You are…terrifying." Her eyes flick to me. "When did we decide he was the enemy?"

"We didn't. I'm just assuming that's how Aurora feels."

I roll over and grab the candy. "I never said he was my enemy . And is reading the poems really going to help you? Actually, you know what? I don't want to know."

"Are you sure you don't want to know?"

"I do," Sylvia and Viv chime in unison.

"They're like straight out of a romance novel or some grand rom-com, Ro. I can't make this up," Maazina says.

I groan. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure, like Drew?" She couldn't hold the laugh in even if she tried.

"You are the fucking worst," I bite but can't help but laugh.

"Ah-ah, best ."

I roll over on my back, laughter still reverberating through the air. My thoughts are sure to return to Isaiah the moment it's quiet again. And I probably won't stop thinking about him until I'm speaking to him. So, I'd rather enjoy my friends and not panic and fret about something I can't control.

I curl up with two pillows. I know when I get back, there's no more avoiding it.

It's time to face the music.