Page 53 of Only You
‘You are so much like your father and the spitting image of your mother.’ She grimaced.
‘Me and my sister may have the same blood, but she was always running from some ghost. I never knew what it was. I don’t think she knew either.
All I know is that it led her to a man who ran away, and it made her do the same.
Now, here you are, always runnin’ from things you care about.
’ She placed her hand over his, concern colouring her tone.
‘And what you can’t run from, you fight your way out of.
What are you running from? What are you fighting, Demir? ’
He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and looked down at his plate.
In his aunt’s eyes, he could see the response she expected, that he was running from her.
But that wasn’t true; it wasn’t even close.
He didn’t even know how to articulate what made his heart feel like a machine that kept him moving rather than something meant to connect him to people.
‘I’m fighting to stay in this world,’ he said instead. ‘That’s good enough for me right now.’
His aunt’s disdain was obvious, but she didn’t say anything else.
Rather, she simply retracted her hand and told him that the bathroom sink was clogged.
He promised to come by and fix it soon. They talked about small things after that, things they’d heard around the neighbourhood.
By the time his plate was empty, he didn’t remember anything from their conversation.
He just placed his dishes in the sink, hugged her goodbye, and left an envelope of money for her on the newspaper that she would never read.
Exiting the building, he gazed up at the orange-stained sky. He walked down the steps, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he began to make his way home, which was only a few blocks away. He was glad he didn’t take his car. Evening was the perfect time to enjoy a moment of fresh air.
‘Aye, champ!’ A man across the street waved his hands.
Demir squinted, recognition washing over him. He was one of Jack’s friends. They met at the fight party after his argument with Nora. If he recalled correctly, he went by Haze. Demir nodded, and Haze took that as a cue to make his way over.
‘What’s up?’ he greeted, his thick, black hair flopping into his face as he grinned. ‘I haven’t seen you since the party. That night was insane, right?’
‘Yeah. It was fun.’
‘Hell yeah. I kept telling Jack to bring you around more, but he says you’re busy.’ ‘All the time.’ Demir shrugged as he started walking again.
Haze followed suit. ‘I bet. How’s the record?’ He shadowboxed the air in front of him, and Demir couldn’t help but crack a smile at the enthusiasm.
‘Still undefeated.’
‘Damn. Next time there’s a fight, let me know.
I’m betting my next payday on you.’ Haze whistled, making a passer-by turn his way.
He winked and the woman flashed her middle finger at him before walking off.
‘Hey, you doing anything now? I’d usually bother Jack with all this but you’re good company, too.
I’m checking out this party downtown at Eddie’s. Some people from Jack’s will be there.’
Normally, Demir would turn his offer down, but the opportunity to not go home and overthink his aunt’s words was too tempting. Plus, Jack’s friends weren’t that bad. He had quite the knack for finding good company. So, for once, he agreed.
‘A poetry club,’ Demir deadpanned when they arrived.
Haze chuckled as he leaned back in his seat. Chairs and tables were scattered around a dark dance hall. The only lights were candles flickering on the tables, creating silhouettes out of the crowd. A spotlight illuminated the stage where a poet recited his lines passionately.
‘Don’t knock it yet,’ Haze told him, taking a sip of beer. ‘Most get lost in the clichés of what they think they should expect. Open your mind, D.’
‘I’ll keep it closed for now.’
Haze laughed, the soft sound of snaps filling the room as the performer descended the stage.
Demir pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a match.
Reluctantly, he settled into his seat to watch the next act.
He had to admit that the poets were pretty good.
Most knew how to own the stage while others had clever word play that outshone their nerves.
Haze cracked enough jokes in between acts to lighten the mood, and after a while, he found himself feeling comfortable in a room where people exposed their greatest weaknesses in front of a crowd; the mere act confused him. He couldn’t imagine being so vulnerable, much less so publicly.
He stubbed out the last bit of his cigarette as another person took the stage, a tall, dark-skinned man with his hat tipped so low his eyes were hidden.
His sleeves were rolled up his forearms, and he stood in front of the microphone beneath the spotlight.
He cleared his throat before the low timbre of his voice filled the room.
‘“ You made me a body ‘ Of cogs and fixes ’.”’
Demir’s throat closed up as the words brought back the memory of that day his aunt beat him, surfacing like it nearly drowned and finally gasping for air.
The confusion and betrayal flashed hot across his skin like it only happened yesterday.
The images persisted as the poet painted pictures of a screaming engine waiting for anyone to notice its pain.
He couldn’t help but remember Selene on the roof all those months ago. His mind ran through all the times he had watched her from across the room without being able to touch her. How the one time he did, it was in darkness and silence.
‘“ But I couldn’t avoid the quiet
‘ And you had a house to run. ”’
The words rang out as the poet stepped off the stage. Silence reigned for a moment before the crowd started to clap enthusiastically, a couple whistled, cutting through the noise.
‘Now, you get it.’
Demir almost jumped, forgetting Haze was there.
Haze wore a knowing smile. ‘Not such a cliché after all, huh?’
It took a moment, but Demir forced a smirk to his face. ‘Of course it is,’ he replied.
Haze laughed easily, waving down one of the servers milling around the room.
Only when he turned away did Demir take out another cigarette, lighting it with shaky hands.
It took another two acts before they stilled, but the sting stayed with him even when he laid his head on his pillow in the early hours of the morning.