Chapter Sixteen: Upsetting News
When I went back to Hand, I went out for the day. When I got back, I felt better, almost as if the whole day had been spent wiping this nasty sheen off the lenses my eyes saw with. However, I needed to clear the air somehow with somebody who was important to me. He’d been avoiding me, and that hurt. I had to know why. I was ready for the confrontation, I told myself.
I wasted no time going to Chess’ room.
I knocked on the door, feeling nerves I hadn’t in a long time.
“Just a second!” he called from within.
He came to the front door and opened it, eyes inward, as if he was making sure the place was clean. Like I always did. It made me smile a small smile. When his eyes made their way forward and he saw me, I saw his grip on the door tighten.
“Myth…” was all he said.
He sounded nervous too, and as soon as he looked in my eyes, he looked away. He actually didn’t sound happy to see me, like I was interrupting something he didn’t want me to see. This made me feel squished inside, both for the implications and for how it made me feel inside. I was sensitive enough then that this hurt my wavering ability to smile, which had slid off my face at the sound of my own name.
“I…” I tried to say, but tears were coming.
It was too soon to be going to him to ask for forgiveness. I wasn’t ready for this.
And he didn’t look at me, and I squirmed there in his front door, wishing he would.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him, turning away. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m –”
He grabbed my hand and still couldn’t look at me.
“Wait,” he whispered. “Stay.”
Why wouldn’t he look at me?
“It’s okay,” I said, hoping to back away gracefully. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you’re doing, and I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean…”
Tears, as they did often in those times, disrupted the things I was saying, and I had to stop out of frustration as much as for mourning. It was almost as if they wanted to remind me of what happened. They made sure with a diligence I’d yet encountered that I would never forget.
He seemed to notice this and furrowed his brow, but still, he did not look at me, hand firmly on my wrist.
“I should go,” I said weakly, desperation permeating every communicative behavior I had.
“No, you should stay,” he said, plaintively now. “Don’t go.”
Swallowing nervously, I proceeded inside at the beckoning tug of his hand, and he closed the door behind me with a snap. I stood there awkwardly, feeling tears I wished that I could restrain, tears that had nothing to do with Chess but that would crop up wherever and whenever I experienced any kind of emotional difficulties at all.
“Here, let me take these heavy things,” he offered, releasing my hand to take my heavy pack from my shoulders.
He hoisted it off my back and then moved his hands to my shoulder to take away my gun. He placed both items against the wall closest to the door, and then stood tall, back to me. Again, we stood in awkward silence. I clenched my jaw.
This was too much, too soon.
“I didn’t mean to keep you from something,” I said to him, feeling abruptly out of place.
He’d never made me feel like I was an imposition before. He would clear everything out just for me. Now, he wouldn’t even look at me, and it made me think of Skate. I felt humiliated.
He said nothing.
“What did I do?” I asked him finally, almost without my permission.
He stood tall, but still didn’t face me.
“What?” he asked.
His voice sounded low, maybe with rage – or worse, disgust.
I should have known. He was disgusted with me. He hated me.
But more than ever, I felt like I needed him. The timing was so awful.
I backed into the wall and felt sobs come, sobs I hadn’t expected to come. I had to put them off with all my might, and my voice took on this wavering, high pitched quality.
“I thought maybe you were upset because I was…so bad to you…when the Outlanders got here. But I wanted to tell you that I…was sorry. Foot told Rhyme, not you, and I thought…he didn’t tell me that until the day that…until the day that Skate…”
I couldn’t stop it now. I felt it rise.
“I have to go, Chess,” I said desperately, almost like I needed his permission.
“Do you want to go?” he asked.
No!
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t want to…I’m going to cry, Chess. You don’t want to see that.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because of what I’ve done!”
The wall broke, and tears flowed forth. A sob escaped me, and I closed my eyes to keep where I was out of my mind. I felt a pair of hands grab my arms, and I was crushed against Chess with wanting I’d yet to hear from him.
“Oh, Myth, you haven’t done anything!” he said in a rush, and he wrapped his arms around me so tightly that I could feel his limbs shake.
I didn’t understand.
“Don’t you want to see me?” I asked his chest. “Don’t you want to see how I’m doing?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears in his voice. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you want to know if I’m okay?”
“Every day, all night,” he whispered into my ear.
His chest heaved against me, like every word I asked shot pain through his torso.
“Aren’t you worried about me? I know Ollie told you what happened to me in the night. Didn’t you think you should keep an eye on me?”
“I’m so sorry, Myth,” he whispered.
His chest heaved once now, and I knew he was crying.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have been there with you. I should have helped you.”
“Why didn’t you help me?” I asked him, curling into myself, even as he pulled me tighter. “I thought you wanted – I thought…”
Sobs prevented me from continuing, and he brought me over to the mat on his floor. He laid down next to me there and I curled into the side of his body, burying my chest in his shoulder. I was unable to look at him.
“How could you do that to me?” I sobbed loudly. “How could you leave me like that?”
“Myth, I…”
His hands squeezed into the fabric of my clothing.
“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered into my cheek. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t think you’d – I’m so sorry!”
“What did I do?” I asked him, eyes still closed. “What did I do?”
“Dammit, Myth, you didn’t do anything,” he whispered with choked tears. “You could never do anything wrong.”
“Then why are you acting like this?” I asked him, wiping my dripping nose with the side of my arm.
I heard him clench.
“I…I can’t tell you,” he whispered.
This hurt, and the noise I made reflected this.
“Don’t say that to me…” I whispered, pulling away from him.
I flipped over to lay on my other side.
“No, no, no, Myth, I…I did something, and I…”
He slid up beside me from behind and wrapped his arms around me.
“I’m ashamed,” he whispered.
I curled my knees to my chest, bringing clenched fists to my forehead.
“You’re lying!” I whispered.
“I’m not lying, Myth, please stop crying! I’m here now!”
He took one of my hands from my forehead and kissed it. Then, he moved around to prop himself up over me. I found myself lying on my back, and he brought his mouth to the tears on my cheek, tracing their lines with soft kisses as he whispered,
“I won’t do that again. I’m here now. I’m here.”
He did this for some time, whispering soft things to me, one hand on my hip, the other near my hair to brush it down. The
motion calmed me, grounded me, but my body reacted like it wasn’t mine to control.
I turned just a fraction of an inch, meeting his lips with mine with a suddenness that surprised us both. We stayed like that for a long time, and I savored the feel of his lips on mine. He gave me another kiss, slowly, and then another. Then another. And then a fire that was an abrupt turn from the despair I’d just felt lit under me and we were suddenly kissing very fast, his hands twisted into my hair, his hand on my hip moved up to the curve of my waist. His lips moved in waves now, but he moaned a little as he broke the kiss, tearing away like he felt angry with himself.
“No!” he said loudly.
A myriad of emotions threw me for a loop, but I latched onto anger just to be safe. I sat up indignantly.
“I thought that’s what you wanted!” I said loudly.
He looked at me helplessly.
“It is what I want, Myth,” he whispered, grabbing my hands. “But I just…”
His brow furrowed.
“I thought that you were with Ollie,” he said breathlessly, daring to look me in the eye.
“Why does everybody think that?” I asked loudly, standing up angrily.
“Foot told me that you were,” he said to me cautiously, unsure of how to proceed.
I opened my mouth like I’d been struck.
“Foot said that to you?” I whispered.
He nodded.
“Foot is a lying, sniveling coward, and the only reason he said that to you was to keep you from doing what you just did!” I shouted now.
Uncharacteristic anger flashed in Chess’ kind eyes.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I told him myself the day Skate died that I was most certainly not with Ollie!” I shouted back, walking over to the pack near the door. “Just forget it. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“No, Myth, I –”
“No, I think I should,” I said, feeling that anger in his eyes magnify in myself. “I came here to apologize, not to be…taken advantage of when I was feeling sad.”
Hurt and other things exploded in his eyes.
“No, believe me, that’s not what I –”
“Save it, Chess!” I shouted. “If you ever decide you want to talk to me again, you know where to find me.”
With that, I walked quickly out the door.