42 | The Runaway


I'm out of my mind.

I've officially lost my marbles.

As I wander down the streets of New Aberdeen, eyes glued to the address to Clotilde's brother's inn, I can officially say that I've never reached this level of insanity. Surely, I've always been a little naive, but I never envisioned I'd end up here.

Pregnant.

Alone.

Wandering the empty streets.

It's the dead cold of night, and the only light in this neighborhood belongs to the dim streetlights with moths circling the bulbs. I count the funds inside the envelope Clotilde left behind for me. I could call a cab, but she warned me I'd need every last cent I have to afford rent and food. Her brother's hospitality only lasts for so long, she fretted.

With sore legs, I find myself taking a seat on a bench. The scents of the city gardens tantalize against my nose, nearly reminding me of a certain yellow flower I'd rather not be thinking about. Yet, a place like this almost reminds me of those dark mornings I would walk to the hospital and back to the estate, only to wonder why on earth I went back to that god forsaken hell the next day.

In those days, I always had something to fall back on to exist. I wasn't alone.

I had Evelyn, and she was the backbone to my existence. I thought I learned to live without her, but I just replaced Evelyn with Thomas and Cato.

Gods, I'm so stupid. So damn clueless.

I strive to avoid the same fate as my mother. Belle Harradan—that mesmerizing, unforgettable siren of a woman who stole the heart of every man in New Aberdeen. She fooled with any man that would give her coins, and had no problem or guilt in luring them in.

Even then, she fell pregnant with me. She walked these same damn streets that I see now.

She was alone.

Pregnant.

Wandering.

Was she afraid of what was to come when she discovered that she was pregnant with me? Did she want to give me her entire world and more, just as I feel about this child? Did she even want me?

I think of a world that would have existed if she stayed, or if she even attempted to grow a relationship with her daughter. Where would I be now? Would we have escaped these low class tiers of society? Would I follow in her footsteps, selling myself to men on street corners so we can make next month's rent?

It's strange to see that I'm just a mimic of her. I'm forever trapped in her lingering shadow. My mother gave me to the Leveque's. Was it because she didn't want me? Was it because the Leveque's could provide for me the way she could never?

I am not giving up this child—my beautiful child that belongs to a boy as majestic as the stars. We've only met a week ago, but I'm in awe of them.

"It's late, missy," a voice jeers from behind me.

The scent that radiates from this man smells strong. When I gaze at him, I notice the age lines that crease his face, and wrinkles that speak of hard labour in the baking sun.

Instead of responding, I pull my suitcase closer to my legs. I avoid his curious eyes.

"You know," he begins. "You're not the first one to sit on the park bench at this hour."

I stay still.

"Let me be more specific. You're not the first young woman to sit on this park bench at this damn hour."

"What do you want from me?" I snap, forcing my eyes to meet his own. Despite his wrinkled complexion, those grey eyes remain younger than I suspect. The strong scent that caught my nose now smells more like sea salt than anything else.

He shrugs. "You remind me of someone."

"I always do," I mutter.

Silence, and I let it simmer as the man takes a seat on the opposite end of the bench.

"I"m not sleeping with you," I quickly retort.

The man laughs. "Not every man that approaches you will want to get into your panties."

I shift in my seat. Maybe not in the daylight, but it's a better assumption at this hour in the night.

"Can I tell you a story?" the man asks. "Just to pass some time while you rest those legs of yours?"

A story won't hurt, will it? I give him nothing more than a nod, which seems to delight him slightly as he leans against the back of the bench.

"The last time I sat here with a young woman, she was bawling her beautiful eyes out," he begins. "You wanna know why?"

Our eyes meet, and I study those grey irises so deeply.

"I work as a shiphand for one of the cargo ships down at the seaport, and we'd only docked in New Aberdeen for about a week before we had to depart again. I had to go. It was part of my job, and we both knew our time together was ending. The last time I sat here was the last time I saw her."

"How long ago was that?"

He shrugs. "Back when I was in my prime. Hard to believe I was a heartthrob when I was in my twenties."

I study his face a little more than before, almost admiring the agelines designing him. "The sea hasn't been kind to you, has it?"

He flashes a wry smile. "It isn't. When I sat here last time, she begged for me to stay with her. She had a bit of a reputation on her. The boys always told me that I was the fool for spending so much time with her." He avoids my gaze. "That was love for us, though. The sun had never been brighter those seven days with her."

"Then why did you leave?"

"Because I had to go," he answers. "I wasn't one to be tied down to one spot, and neither was she. I could've fucking stayed. Now I can tell she would've been worth it all."

"What happened to her? Did you ever find out?"

He shrugs without a care. "Can't really know. I asked when I returned years later, but nobody knows. Some say she went back to fucking other men. Some said she cleaned up her act and got a job as a scullery maid at a restaurant. One even told me he was certain he saw her pregnant for a bit after I left." He chuckles as he says the last bit. "Wouldn't that be something?"

"Is it ironic to believe that I'm pregnant now?" I confess, a wince pitching my voice.

The man grunts. "Then why are you here? There's no logical explanation for a pregnant lady to be out here, unless..." He studies me. "You ran."

I clasp my hands. I did run. I ran away from the man that could possibly love me more than any star in the sky, and yet I can't be the one that takes that away from him. Our love is a mess that we will never be able to untangle, but it's so real. It's alive.

"We're so different," I finally admit. "He has the entire world and more at his fingertips, and we..." I point to myself and the baby in my stomach. "We would set him back."

"Do you believe that? Because if my woman told me before I left that she was with child, I'd have dropped everything for her."

"That's what can't happen. He can't drop everything. I'd be selfish to even expect him to do that, so I made the choice for him. I left."

"Well, at least we have something in common then," he grumbles, straightening his back as those grey eyes flicker in the dim streetlights. "We fucking run when things start to fall on top of us."

"I feel as if I'm being buried alive..."

"Then we gotta dig ourselves out," the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple stray bills. "Take this and get yourself somewhere safer. There's a payphone down the way to call a cab. This should be enough."

My jaw falls open. "I can't accept this."

"Take it," the man orders. "Please."

"I can't do that. I don't even know who you are."

"I don't think my identity matters that much, does it?" he gives me a brisk wink before standing up from the bench, setting the cash on his seat. "I hope you and your little one stay safe."

He leaves me to ponder my thoughts alone in the lamp lights, and I find myself even more lost than before. I want to keep running. I need to run from this, for Cato's sake. Cato lives and breathes his discoveries and research, and to give that all up... to have him abandon that for me...

No. I know I'm making the right choice for him. It's better this way, for the both of us. I'm saving us from heartbreak months down the line. By then, our love would be too far gone, and I'd never turn away.

It has to be now.

I take the cash the man left behind, and I pull myself over to the payphone. My child will grow wherever I plant myself, and we'll fight this distorted broken world together. Where I run, they'll follow, and we'll do it hand-in-hand.

On the other end of the communications line, the dispatch tells me it'll be another hour before a cab can come in my direction.

I drake a seat on the bench once more, counting down the minutes until my life truly begins. This acts as a fresh starting line to cross into the unknown. My nerves wreck at the idea of this, but there's so much to look forward too. This child comes with joy. So much joy. I can't help but break a smile.

I can grow. I can discover who I am. I'm not defined or compared to Cato's wealth and glamorous reputation anymore.

I can be me.

Maureen.

A car whips down the street, coming to a dead halt just as it passes by the bench. I stand up, but hesitate when I realize there's no decals or indication that this vehicle is a cab for New Aberdeen. It's just a rundown, rust bucket of a car that happens to have four wheels.

The door opens, and a recognizable figure strolls out, blue eyes wide and alert.

Thank god it's not his older brother, or I'd really be wishing I were somewhere else.

Levi.

"For fuck's sakes, Maureen, what are you doing?"


-----

*dramatic music* Only seven chapters left, and I'm just on a roll with words. But I think I should take a small break from writing before I burn myself out. Three updates in four days? That's some sort of record.

Also, thank you for reading and commenting on the story this far! 

vote & comment & share & drink a cold iced tea

Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top