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“There was a steel ring around it. He never took it off except when he made me dip my wound in salt as punishment.”
Misery creeps into my stomach. “Bren…”
He withdraws his hand. “I didn’t see anyone but him for years, Lou. He was the only one I could love, with whom I could build a relationship. I hungered for his tenderness and hated him at the same time. And when he smiled, I loved him.”
I cover my mouth with my fingers because it’s so horrific and because I also long for Brendan’s smile so badly—but that’s something else entirely.
“He broke my dog’s bones, tied his paws together, and stuffed him into a box alive. That was after my first attempted escape. He beat me half to death. I had to dig Blacky’s grave or he would have tormented him even more and God knows he would have! He always made good on his threats.”
I swallow and fight back the tears gathering in my throat. I picture little Brendan using the last of his strength with a grief-stricken heart, shoveling earth into the grave he dug to bury the dog he loved dearly.
How do you survive that? How do you live with all that torment? How do you keep on breathing? How hard does a soul have to become to endure that?
I look cautiously at Bren. His stern mouth is pursed and his dark hair hangs over his eyes as if he’s trying to hide. I want to hug him, but I know he doesn’t want that, not now. He’s like a survivor in a war crimes museum, giving visitors a glimpse of the past while keeping them at bay. Everything is behind glass in inaccessible showcases.
“He homeschooled me. I was never allowed out, just the one time in the garden to bury my dog.” He laughs dryly, but it sounds hollow and depressed. “If I made a mistake on the assignments, he would punish me, I told you that…he would hit me with a belt, a dog whip, or his bare fists. Sometimes, he starved me for days…” He falters. “He laughed when I was down, but the worst part was that I truly wanted to love him. And I was ashamed of that. But I didn’t have anything else to love, only Blacky…but when he was gone…” He bites his lip. “There’s nothing good about those years. I lost myself. When I kidnapped you last year, it was the best time of my life—I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I whisper, my eyes burning. “I’m sorry for you.”
He just nods and then shakes his head. “The day I found you online, I was walking across the frozen lake, hoping the ice beneath me would break. I didn’t know if I was still alive or dead. I felt nothing but emptiness. I discovered you that evening. You looked at me with your blue eyes like you could heal something deep inside me. Suddenly, there was a glimmer of light in my loneliness—it was completely crazy! I called you Little Miss Sunshine and sometimes Alaskan girl. Because of your northern-sky-blue eyes.” Now he’s actually smiling and my heart burns and aches with sorrow and love for him.
I smile back, but my lower lip is trembling. “Alaskan girl,” I repeat in a whisper. “That sounds mysterious and beautiful.” How could I just leave him in the supermarket with the burden of his past? Maybe I’m a bad person.
Bren briefly clears his throat. “Last summer, I rediscovered the little boy inside me. Thanks to you. With the help of my therapist, I’ve brought most of what I’ve been repressing back into my life. Before, I only allowed it in the flashes. Well, apparently, they were not real flashbacks but rather they triggered states like psychoses. You hallucinate, see and hear things that are not there. For me, it was old memories. It’s quite complicated, but the important thing is that I interrupt the flashbacks so that I don’t slip into such phases.”
“Okay,” I say softly. “And how can I help you with that?”
“I have to do it alone. I have my resources. India Lee says that the more old memories I integrate, the weaker the episodes become. I’ve only had one in the last few weeks and it only lasted a few minutes. And I didn’t break anything.” He grins crookedly—but also a little proudly.
I approach him because I can no longer stand the distance between us. “I’m so sorry, Bren.”
“You can’t help my past. It happened; nobody can change it.”
“No…well, that too, but I should have stayed with you earlier. At that moment.” Risking that I might do something wrong, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest.
“You were afraid. There’s nothing to apologize for.” Bren hugs me and we stand there forever. I know how difficult it must have been for him to tell me. It seems to me that he jumped the ditch that used to stand between us. Suddenly, it’s like the weight of the past is actually lighter. When I hear what he went through, all that horror, I want to make him happy. He deserves joy. He deserves love. He deserves to smile. How can I accuse him of being jealous when he still believes his mom turned her back on him? What am I upset about considering what he’s been through?
Bren pulls me even closer and I swear to myself to hold on to the moment. That one moment where he’s as close to me as he’s ever been, no matter what. The moon shines overhead as we are enveloped in the coolness of the June night, warming each other. The air is laden with city noise, diesel and gas, and the smell of fries from somewhere. It’s different than it was then, but it still works.
“This is what happens,” Bren whispers at one point.
“What?” I hug him tighter, breathing into the shirt that smells so wonderfully of Bren.
“If we try to ignore the past, it grabs us even more.”
Now I have to laugh, if only briefly. Then my stomach growls loud and clear.
Bren pulls his head back to look at me. “So…shall we go for enchiladas now?”
The rest of the evening passes like in my best fantasies. And even though Bren has told me so many horrible things, we’re lighter than before. Maybe that’s why, I don’t know, but it’s simply one more crazy thing I don’t understand.
Hand in hand, we search for our shopping carts and finally find them behind the supermarket in the care of a homeless man. Since he more or less believably assures us he was simply keeping an eye on them…even though he’s already eaten the only can of chili and downed a six-pack, much to Bren’s dismay… Bren gives him enough cash to last at least a month on the street.
After that, we stow the goods. Bren is laughing more than usual and Grey is howling and barking madly as if he too can sense the change between us. Later, we let him run around a bit behind the Walmart on the run-down lots in the industrial district.
We decide not to cook and drive to Perlita’s Authentic Mexican Food, a simple family-owned restaurant with handwritten chalkboards as the only menu, less than three minutes from the supermarket. We order a double batch of enchiladas with salsa, guacamole, and extra cheese and feed each other. I sneak Bren some hot jalapeños and he retaliates with mean, hot kisses until I get hiccups from laughing with my mouth on fire and he generously hands me his Coke.
Afterward, we walk to the beach with Grey. I stand at the ocean for the first time in my life. Despite the darkness, I feel the vastness of the ocean in my lungs, breathe in the scent of salt and spray, and run through the foaming surf with Grey as high-spirited as a child.
