penance. a love story (The Böhme Series) (11 page)

“Okay, so after she walked away from me, this guy checked her out and looked at me as if he and I shared a bond and she was our prey
,” I said as I clenched my hands into fists recalling the moment. “I wanted to punch him. There was something in that predatory expression he held that made me want to bash in his fucking skull.” I stretched my neck as I tried to withdrawal from my anger.

“Well, okay, those are emotions we haven’t seen in a while. Where do you think they came from, Wynn?”

“Because he saw her as an object and not as a human fucking being and because I hated myself in that moment for my inadequacy.”

“Okay, let’s back up a minute. Now, I’m not one to waste
words with you, but this girl, why her? You said she was magnificent. I’ve never heard you use that word to describe anyone or anything for that matter. Did you talk to her?”

I sighed as I leaned my head back and looked at the ceiling.
“Nope, I tried to open the door for her and she went through the other one instead.” I smiled as I recalled the memory. “I wanted to talk to her. But I wanted to go our separate ways, too.”

He furrowed his brow, waiting for me to continue.

“We watched each other for a few minutes before that. She was sitting on a bench when I arrived at the school and she watched me,” I said, withholding the part where I took her photo. He didn’t need to know
every
detail.

“So you didn’t talk, but you say she was magnificent. How is she different from other girls you went out with before or the girls you describe using your favorite term of cliché?”

“I analyzed it last night after I got home from Henley’s. I saw her there, too and at Petra’s earlier. It was seeing her at Petra's that caused my thoughts to run. She was so absorbed in the place and I couldn't take my eyes off her.” I didn’t mention the alley part. It might be wise to share that and the photo I took with my psychologist, but I wondered if he could understand them. I decided to keep it to myself for now as if they were inside jokes only for me.

“Why didn’t you talk to her?”
he asked without judgment.

I gave him an annoyed glare. “You know why.”

“Yep, you are scared of not being enough. But you are. You need to drop that bullshit. I’m your doctor, so I have to listen to you, but that's getting old,” he said with a frown and opened the conversation to our usual discussion. I told him of my moments where
she
entered my thoughts and how I dealt with them. He was conditioning me to be able to speak of my mother without it consuming me.

After I left, I decided to stop by Petra’s store to drop off books. I walked into the store and found the girl putting books on shelves and working behind the counter.
She must be Petra’s new hire, holy hell.
I kept the books in my bag and looked through the rows nearest to her, and reading the title of one of the books, I realized I was in the romance section. Fuck. I was thankful she was busy at her task and didn’t notice me. I couldn’t decide which would be worse, being caught stalking or being caught reading the title,
His Sex Kitten, Cammy.

When she finished her re-shelving she started back to the counter, and I went upstairs to the balcony to watch her unseen. I watched as her hair fell in a natural way, draping around her shoulders. She wore a simple tank top again and
jeans that looked like they fit her at one time, but now hung loosely on her. I noticed she had a tattoo of a single word on her wrist.

She picked up a book to read with a man’s face on the front and I cou
ld make out part of the title,
johnny
. The image looked eerie and out of the ordinary, so I searched for it on my phone. The book a person chooses to read says more than any first impression. I
was
stalking her. After several minutes of searching, I found the book and it was an indie novel. A fantasy, titled
johnny, The Mark of Chaos
. 

The bell to the entrance rang and brought my attention from the book. I watched as the man named Gabe entered. He snuck up behind the girl and gave her a hug that appeared uncomfortable at first. She turned and smiled at him as she pulled her ear buds out. They began to laugh together and I noticed the girl was the awkward part of the interaction. She returned his embrace and laughed, but the way she held herself was as though the intimacy wasn't common for her.
 

I turned away, to give them a semblance of privacy and found the stern glare of a small German woman.

“Wynn,” she said with her slight accent. “Why are you lurking?”

I gave her wide eyes and a smile, “Lurking?” I put
A Brave New World
back on the shelf and leaned against the balcony rail.

“Yes, lurking
.” She pushed her glasses up on her face and stepped closer to me. She was a foot and a half shorter than me and I smiled as I towered over her. She looked up and she was so close our toes almost touched. “I saw the way you keep looking at my new employee,” she said as her face held a stern expression for a few moments as she then turned it into a wide smile.

“So
,” I whispered as I looked to make sure Gabe kept the girl occupied.

“So…” s
he said as she held the
O
shape with her mouth before continuing. “Well
so
you have never had such curiosity in your eyes. It's an interesting expression on your face, though foreign.”

“I can’t help it
,” I said in a whisper. “It's her. I want to know her, but I don’t.” I looked toward the front of the store and saw her still sitting at the counter talking to Gabe. “When did she start here?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Wynn you are a funny guy. But I am happy someone has captured your interest. I worry. But to answer your question, today is her first day.”

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. “I’m fine, Petra.” I thought of the odd coincidence. “We keep crossing paths. I don't want her to think I’m stalking her.”

“Well, I am sure that is precisely what she will think if she saw you lurking. You aren’t fine, either. You never leave your house except to take photos of god knows what. The people you talk to most are a woman obsessed with books, a tattooed man, and that crazy friend of yours
,” she said as she leaned against the shelf.

“I’m particular of whom I give my time
.” I looked back at the bookshelf as I stepped away from Petra. I didn’t want the girl to hear me talking of her. Creep is not the label I wanted to receive. I am quiet, but because I choose not to speak and for shit’s sake I was spying on her in her place of work, I
was
a fucking creep. I didn’t appear crazy, I was crazy.

“You need to give your time to someone though, Wynn. Life is too short not to try. I worry and I don’t want to pass from this world knowing you’re alone
,” she said with a sad expression.

I turned back to face her, “Oh god, not you now too. I’m fine on my own and yes I find her interesting
.” I leaned toward her to speak quieter, “But give me space. I need to do this in my own way, on my own time, and at my own pace.”

She nodded tight lipped as she squeezed my shoulder and walked away. I wondered what she meant by her comment on dying. She wasn’t sick and she wasn’t old, so it was an odd statement to make and it left me uneasy.
  

I’m not afraid of death, I’m afraid of what little privacy death gives us. When we are living we have control of our masks. In death, we lose that control and secrets show themselves to the world. It’s as if they sleep in peace, waiting for the last breath to come so they can move with freedom, spreading their wings across loved ones left alive.

As I snuck out the back door of the store and got on my bike, I realized I never got the girl’s name. I figured it was for the best.

On Sunday, I spent most of my time riding my bike out of town and taking photos. It’s always a release for me—to ride in the country and breathe fresh air. I took the road the farmhouse I always wanted to visit was on, but never did. It was old and resembled the house in my mother’s photos from her childhood. I never stopped, no matter how many times I passed though.

I wanted to find truth about her past and thought it might hold the key to unders
tanding who the woman I called Mom used to be. I had to believe something happened to make her the way she was. But I was afraid of what that house might tell me. The unknown truth held more fear than any of my memories.

I continued driving farther out to a ghost town that formed after a factory closed. No one had lived there for at least twenty years and every time I step foot in it I imagine how it was when people were here. They lived, died, and fell in love in this town and
then abandoned it. Their stories are now part of the rubble, drifting further into memory.

I walked into the town’s bar and looked across the debris that remained. The entire bar was still intact, but time chipped away at it. Glass from broken windows and bottles littered the ground. The light shone in just right and the contrast with the decay created an eerie shadow. I connected with these places. Forgotten, broken, and torn, I understood these buildings. They were my lifelong friends, the places where I could drop my walls. I never fought the past here.

I sound crazy. My rational mind understands that I should connect with people and not buildings. But history keeps me from trusting people and their stupidity in general reminds me why these decaying buildings are better company. Despite their rubble, they are more dependable than people.

My phone rang as I was leaning to take a photo of a bottle near one of the colored window panes. I ignored it because I wanted to make sure I got the shot I needed. I took several photos before my phone rang again and in frustration I set my camera onto a table to answer it.

“Yeah.”

“Well, hello to you to, man. Did you get my text?”
Blake asked as I put my phone under my ear and walked toward the back storeroom, lifting my camera to take photos.

“Yeah, I got it
.” I didn’t want to talk on the phone right now, or hear about Blake’s late night conquests. But Blake wanted to, so I tried to make sure my annoyance was heard.

“Okay. So I wanted to hear any questions you might have with my text. And well it being
the
date, I wanted to check on you. You know with today’s date,” he spoke with hesitation as if he were afraid I was going to flip out.

“Thanks for reminding me. I successfully blocked the date from my mind until you mentioned it
.” I didn’t mask my sarcasm. 

“Yeah right d
ude, we’ve been friends since we shit ourselves. I know you,” he sighed into the phone. “Don’t you want to hear how my night went after you left Friday?” He always shifted the conversation when the topic arose about the date and I appreciated him for it. I didn’t want to talk of today’s date.

“Not really
,” I said as I looked around the storeroom, taking the occasional close up photo of broken bottles and empty boxes. He could keep his night to himself, especially the moments that included the girl.

“Well, as I said, I met that chick you’ve been stalking. Her name is Hannah and she was cool. I didn’t talk to her much, but I ended up going back to her apartment
.” He paused for a moment and I took a deep breath waiting for what he might say next. “Okay, nothing happened. I wanted to get your reaction and judge you,” he said on a laugh. "You tried to pretend you don’t care. But the fact that you sounded like someone punched you says otherwise. In all seriousness, I went back with Gabe and the other couple, so it wasn’t as if I went
back
to her apartment, you know."

Her name is Hannah
.

“Why would it matter if you did?” I lifted a stepladder from the rubble and setting it upright I positioned it in the middle of the room.
Hannah
. Her name kept repeating in my mind as I lifted my camera to photograph the ladder.

“I don’t know. I saw you watching her and I didn’t want to step on any toes
,” he said it almost as a question, wanting me to elaborate on how I felt about her.

“I really can’t have any say in the matter. She’s a girl that I saw a few times on Friday. Sure it sounds crazy, but I can’t believe there was something to it.”
There was something to it.

“Oh, Wynnie, ever the pessimist
,” he said and laughed.

“Don’t call me that. And I am not a pessimist. I’m a cynical realist
.” Defiance riddled my tone.

He laughed at me. “Yeah, exactly
,” he paused. “Are you doing okay? You want to go out later?”

“Nah, I’m fine. I’m taking photos in that ghost town. Plus I have class in the morning. I don’t need to go out before that
,” I said. That was one good thing about the classes; they gave me an excuse not to socialize.

“Okay, I still don’t understand why you’re going to these classes. It isn’t as if you ne
ed to get a job or something,” he said with a laugh.