Say Goodbye, Don't Follow

I knew my time was running out, I just didn't realize how quickly.

I had been desperate. Tired, hungry, alone, and desperate. My parents could find no place for their gay son in their house, and I left them with no time to tell me so. I ran, ran, ran with thirty dollars in my pocket and turmoil in my soul. I remember that night, the comforts of Autumn took their final bow as the first snowfall of the year paved the way for bitter times.

The sky opened up, and seemed to burst as a kaleidoscope of stars and snow took center stage. Flurries danced in waning moonlight, making their way onto my face. They kissed my cheeks and my nose, the bow of my lips and the crease in my forehead. Washing away dried tear tracks and fresh bruises and pain, pain, pain. They clung to my hair like a knitted hat, bright white against the dark curls. The air was still, and my breath filled it with tiny clouds that drifted up into the night as they slowly faded away.

It was beautiful that night. But I couldn't see any of it through fatigue and hunger, I had left before dinner, and Mama was making fresh pierogies, and they were my favorite, and now it was all gone, gone, gone. My legs burned as the cool breeze picked up, and I ran harder. I ran, as though I could run around the world, away from my problems, and into some unknown sanctuary. But eventually, I couldn't run anymore. And even if I could, I was too lost to know where to go.

Apartment buildings and shops seemed to tower over me, each one more foreign than the next. I wandered amongst busy streets as the moon shone like a spotlight above my head. Slowly, rows of polished windows turned to alleyways littered with broken bones and hollowed cries. The smell of cigarettes filled my lungs, and the cold had continued to burn, burn, burn.

And, underneath one of many broken streetlights, I saw him. A man made of skin and bones, seemingly both illuminated and veiled by the flickering light he stood under. As I drew near him, the smell of whiskey and worn leather filled overtook me. Curiosity seemed to pull me in, and as I looked closer, I felt my heart pulse and stutter and stop, stop, stop. At first, I thought his eyes were red or black - like the ghosts from the stories Mama used to tell. But as I grew nearer, I realised the man didn't have eyes at all.

The sockets were there, and lined heavily with kohl. But were I should have seen eyes, there was nothing but infinite death, as though I was Alice, and this man was the looking glass.

I felt myself startle as he spoke, the softest hint of southern twang coloring his words.

"You're lost, aren't you boy?"

I ducked my head down, and I kept walking away from him, from this street, from Chicago, from home, home, home.

I had approached the end of the street, and stumbled through a right hand turn only to find myself back at the very same street. And there the man stood, against the same streetlight, and I felt as though he was seeing every part of me, from the inside out.

Panic's fist clenched my gut as I called out, "what do you want from me?" A slight smirk crept across his face, and suddenly I was closer, closer, closer, until everything was once again muffled by that same whiskey and leather.

"I believe," he spoke softly, as if someone could overhear. "That you're the one who wants something from me."

Panic's fingers unclenched and spread, as terror consumed me. "I-I don't want anything." My voice and my heart began to stutter in unison. "Please, just leave me alone."

"That would be the opposite of you want, though, wouldn't it?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" I asked, and my whole body shivered.

"I mean you're scared to be alone." The man took another step towards me and I couldn't run because I was alone, alone, alone now and he was right, that did scare me. "But," he continued, "I can make you a deal, and you won't be alone for the rest of your life."

And suddenly it clicked. Mama had told me stories of those who kept deals, those who held onto a part of you no one truly could comprehend as you lived with whatever luxury you were promised. She warned me of the darkness that came with these deals and of falling, falling, falling forever.

But Mama lied.

Mama said she'd always love me, that I was her boy, that she cared. Mama said she'd never let anyone hurt me. Mama said she'd always be there, that family was forever, and it was all just lies, lies, lies.

"What will you offer, and what will you want in return?" I forced my voice to settle, though my heart continued to pound.

"Company" He told me, and that smirk grew to a cheshire cat grin. "Your friends and family will accept you for who you are, and remain by your side."

It was impulsive and dangerous and stupid, stupid, stupid. But the cold had begun to fill my head with cotton and my fingertips were capped with white, and what else could I possibly do? Where else could I go? At 15, what else did I have but the life I had always known?

"Deal," I nodded with uncertain certainty. My eyes met darkness, and all of the sudden I was shaking long, cold fingers.

"Enjoy the time you have, boy," He straightened his back. "In one year, you will come back to pay." With that statement, and the answers all the questions is created, the man turned and walked. I stumbled forwards to ask about my payment, but then-

"Oh, thank God!" Mama's voice shouted from behind me, no longer filled with the same anger and disappointment and hurt, hurt, hurt from Before. The tail lights of our old BMW shined on her, on us, as she ran towards me and took me in her arms.

Slowly, we sunk to our knees and I curled into her lap, breathing in the familiarity of it. A trembling hair raked through frozen curls, as she sobbed endless apologies and washed away the ice.

"Mama?" I asked, my arms still around her, "Can we go home?"

"Of course, my love. Let's get you warmed up." She stood, hand still entangled within my hair. "I saved some pierogies for you, too. I know they're your favorite." She shifted her from foot to foot, guilt heavy in her eyes.

"Thanks, Mama." I gave her a soft, tentative smile, and we walked towards the car, together, going home, home, home.

As she started the car and began to turn around, my eyes briefly darted towards the rearview mirror. The snow had ceased, and the man was gone. But I looked over at Mama, whose hand remained tight in mine, thumb gently stroking my hands, and I didn't care anymore. I wasn't alone, and that's what mattered.

Exactly one year has passed since that night tomorrow. The weather calls for heavy snowfall throughout the entire state - the first of the year. It is likely we will see school delayed, maybe cancelled. But I find I can't be happy about it, as that fateful night itches in the back of mind, because a deal is a deal, and I don't see any way out of this one.