Chasing Shadows

Trigger warning: sexual abuse, drug abuse

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I was enamored when Pria Russo moved in next door. Watching her descend the front steps, she almost floated. Her heels, pencil skirt, chic sunglasses, and her hair swathed in an elegant scarf attributed to her poise and timeless beauty. I’d been terrified to approach her, but late one night, I heard distant thunder and remembered I’d left my truck’s windows down. I dashed outside to close them before the rain started. Though it hadn't begun, the wind picked up, carrying the strong smell of a lit cigarette. Instinctively, I turned toward the source. In her black camisole and running shorts, it was apparent that she was rail-thin. Introducing myself, I felt instantly captivated by her. Even under the dim porch light, her evergreen eyes sparkled. Her dark hair contrasted strikingly with her pale skin. 

“Hi, I’m Kellan McClure,” I told her. 

“Pria Russo,” she responded. “Want one?” her slender arm extended as she presented me with one of her cigarettes.

Shaking, my head, I declined her offer. “Those things will kill you, you know,” I added lamely.

“So I’ve heard.”

“How old are you, Pria?”

“Nineteen. You?”

“Almost eighteen,” I said, feeling intimidated. We talked for a while, mostly making idle chitchat until the sky broke open, unleashing a torrential downpour. “Mind if I join you?” I asked. Sliding over, she patted the space beside her, making my heart race.

Before I could think it through, I uttered, “Pria Russo, you are a beautiful woman.”

“I’m flattered, Kellan, but I should be upfront with you. I don't date.”

“Can I ask why?”

“It's complicated.”

“Sorry, I was just curious.”

“No offense. But I don't know you, and it's not something I want to discuss,” she said.

If she had no interest in me, why let me sit here and continue this conversation? At nineteen, it wouldn’t be a matter of not being allowed. I knew the devil was hiding among those details, but I wasn't about to exorcise it from her. Instead, I changed the subject. “Are you in college?” I asked.

“I may go one day, but I don't know what I want to do with my life. How about you? Almost eighteen and ready to graduate—what are your plans?”

“I don't have it sorted out either. I’ll be attending Syracuse in the fall. I’m undeclared but leaning toward psychology,” I told her. “I think I’d like to help troubled kids and teens.”

“Why not adults?”

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t try. People grow more set in their ways over time. Children’s minds are more malleable. They’re more likely to learn new habits and turn their lives around.”

“Sounds to me like you've got it more figured out than most,” she encouraged. “Similarly, I'd like to be some kind of badass advocate for women and children. But first, I need to figure out how to unfuck my life.”

“Nice! Whatever mountain you think is standing in your way, it's climbable. You're too young to have messed your life up beyond repair.”

“You could put that on a greeting card,” she said with a smile, playfully bumping her bare shoulder into me. For some reason, that subtle nudge of physical contact sent a surge of electricity throughout my entire being.

As we conversed, it became apparent that Pria was reluctant to discuss anything personal. Knowing she lived with only her dad, I inquired about her mother. When she passed on that question, I assumed there was baggage there. Anything about her family seemed to raise her hackles.

The rain began to let up, and a lull fell over our conversation. Suddenly, Pria jumped up.

“Yikes, I need to get some shut-eye. It was nice talking with you, Kellan.”

“Yeah, you too. Hopefully, I’ll see you around.” I replied, irritated with my generic parting words and inability to sound interesting around attractive females.

As days passed into weeks, I hadn’t seen Pria again, yet she was never far from my thoughts. I spent most of my evenings on our porch, glancing at her house and hoping I’d catch a glimpse of her, but it was like she was a ghost. I started to wonder if she’d been a dream. 

Detecting motion in my periphery, I saw her one morning, as I was leaving for school. Pulling back into the driveway, I parked my truck. She was sitting on the porch with a black and white cat in her lap. Despite having two tests and a paper due that day, I made my way toward her. Not wanting to startle Pria or her feline companion, I approached slowly. Realizing she'd been crying, I stopped, merely nodding in acknowledgment.

“Are you okay?” I asked sincerely.

“Yeah. Just a shitty morning.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone if you’d prefer.” I silently cursed myself for offering to leave.

“You can sit. This is Copernicus,” she said, gesturing to the sleeping cat in her lap.

“Nice to meet you, Copernicus,” I said, gently patting his head, causing him to leap up and scamper away.

“What happened this morning?”

“I just got off the phone with my mom. My stepfather is threatening to blackmail me if I don't move back to Texas with them.”

I didn't know why she chose this moment to open up, but that one statement explained the tight-lipped attitude toward her family.

“How?” I asked. “Does he have dirt on you?”

“Yes. Although, I’ve got heaps more on him. The problem is I can't prove it, but I don't want to talk about that right now, so let’s talk about you instead.”

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Well, for starters, shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Indeed.”

She laughed at this, making my impulsive decision to ditch school feel worthwhile.

“Indeed?” she teased. Who talks like that?

“I do,” I said, grinning because each time I made her smile felt like a small victory. “Yeah. I'm technically supposed to be in school, but I wanted to ensure you were okay.”

“So, are you going to school now that you know I’m fine?”

“Nah, they won't fail me for taking a day off.”

“Will your parents care?”

“I don't have parents,” I confessed.

“I’ve seen them, dude.”

“You’ve seen my grandparents. My mom passed when I was an infant. I don't even know who my dad is.”

“Aw man, I’m sorry. What happened to her?”

“Overdose.”

“On?”

“Heroin. She used it during pregnancy. I was born addicted.”

Gazing off into the distance, Pria’s attention seemed to be elsewhere. The direction our conversation had taken wouldn't exactly lift her spirits.

“Wanna get out of here?” I suggested.

She shrugged. “And go where?”

“It’s a surprise. But it's a place that always brings me peace.”

“You seem like a stand-up guy, but I have trust issues, and venturing to an undisclosed location with someone I barely know seems reckless.”

“It’s only a half hour away, and you know where I live. Leave your dad a message and let him know,” I offered.

“Okay, but this isn’t a date.”

“Copy that,” I replied, more hopeful about winning her affections. I was elated when she agreed to ride with me as long as she could pick the music. Her collection included classic rock from the 1960s-90s; Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, The Pixies, The Smiths, and Radiohead, to name a few. My mom's old music collection mirrored Pria's tastes, and she even had some tunes from my grandparents' era, as well as some incredible bands I’d never heard. With her vintage style and music, I joked she was born in the wrong decade.

“What can I say? I’m an old woman trapped in the body of a scrawny little boy,” she self deprecated.

Genuinely astonished when we started passing horse-drawn buggies, Pria gasped. “What’s this? Did we just time travel?”

“A vintage world for a vintage girl.” I cheesed.

“You did not just say that!” she chortled.

“We’re in Amish country, baby!”

“Why?” She asked as we reached our destination.

This is Panama Rocks. It’s my favorite place in the world.”

After paying admission, I took Pria's hand, and we trekked down the main path. We navigated the trail amidst walls of rock and ancient trees with massive exposed roots. Lush ferns lined the pathway. In late May, the forest was fully alive, everything in bloom, moss blanketing the rocks and trees. Animals chittered. The canopy above shielded us from the bright sun, casting an ethereal green glow. As we ventured deeper into the woods, the temperature dropped significantly.

“Take a deep breath,” I encouraged her, inhaling the crisp earthy scent, myself. I come here to clear my mind. There's something about nature that refreshes the spirit.”

“You’re a cheese ball, Kellan,” Pria said, smirking. “But it's cute.”

Although I was uncertain what she meant by “cute,” she kept her fingers laced with mine as we continued down the path.

“Are you claustrophobic?” I asked.

“I spent a lot of time hiding under my bed as a child, so not really.”

“So you’re not afraid of tight spaces, but you were scared of monsters?” I teased.

“Something like that.”

“There’s a cave down there if you’d like to check it out,” I suggested.

She nodded, and I led her into a small, dark cavern. It was too low to stand, and I became acutely aware of our proximity. My heart raced, and my breathing quickened, growing louder as it echoed against the sedimentary rock.

“Are you okay?” Pria whispered against my shoulder.

“Remarkably. Are you?” 

“Truthfully? I’m not sure how to answer that,” she said.

“Maybe we should get back to hiking.”

“Probably for the best.” She agreed with a nervous giggle.

Exiting the cave, I tripped over an exposed root, and then Pria tripped over me, toppling onto my lap. We both erupted into raucous laughter.

“Do you have other plans for the rest of the day?” I asked.

“No, but I planned to cook dinner for my dad later. I know he’s getting tired of fast food.”

Conversing as we wandered, I learned that Pria loved animals more than most people and hadn’t eaten meat since she was eight. She talked about her love of music and dance. She played guitar and piano, and had taken twelve years of ballet.

After exiting the woods, we ventured to the playground. Pushing her on a swing, she whooped like a carefree child as she sailed higher.

Pria was quiet on the ride home, yet she seemed more peaceful. I noticed her nodding off, so I let her sleep.

Pulling into the driveway, she started as I lightly tapped her knee.

“Are you feeling better? I asked. “Lighter?”

“I think so,” she answered. “Thank you.”

After dinner that night, I took a long walk and sat outside to enjoy the brisk evening air.

I fell asleep on the porch swing but woke around a quarter to midnight, smelling her cigarettes. Sure enough, Pria was on her porch. With a newfound confidence, I joined her on the step.

“I was hoping I’d see you tonight.” She said, making my heart race and my nerve endings come alive.

“Really?”

“I was thinking we should try something.”

I gulped audibly. “Such as?”

“Well, the neighbors who border our backyard have a pool.”

“Do you know them?” I asked.

“Sure don’t,” she responded with a mischievous grin. “Do you?”

“A little bit, though not well enough to consider asking them.”

“Who said anything about asking?” Pria remarked with a smirk.

“I think they keep their fence locked.” 

“That’s a low fence. You’d let that stop you from enjoying that refreshing oasis?”

“It’s like 50 degrees out here.” I reasoned. “We’ll freeze.”

“It’s probably heated,” She whispered.

Stubbing out her cigarette, Pria grabbed my arm and pulled me into her backyard. Before I could speak, she climbed over the barricade surrounding the pool. I followed behind her. She was already in her bra, shimmying out of her jeans. I stripped down to my shorts, and she grabbed my arm again, cannonballing into the deep end and dragging me down with her. The water was freezing, and we both shrieked as we resurfaced.

”Oh my God, they’re gonna call the cops!”

“Relax. It’s after midnight. I’m sure they’re asleep.”

“Or they were,” I amended.

“You talk too much,” she whispered, putting her index finger to my lips. All day, the tension between us had been building to a crescendo, and at that moment, I thought I might explode.

Pria’s face inched closer to mine. I reciprocated, and it was beautiful chaos. Hungry mouths. Cold, wet skin, her lips on my collarbone, fingernails scratching my back, my hands in her hair, on her body, her flesh in my palms, legs around my waist. I needed her like I needed to breathe. But with one sentence, I managed to halt what could have been magical perfection. My mouth to her ear, I whispered, “Want to go somewhere more private?” It was like someone had flipped a switch, her grip released. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said.

“In the pool or at all?” I asked, feeling more confused than ever.

“Not at all.”

“Are you Mormon or something?” I asked. “It’s cool if you are. I respect…”

“No,” she interrupted. “It’s not like that. I’m just not good for you.”

“If you feel that way, why did you… I wouldn’t have jumped in that pool with you. And you climbed on me, not the other way around. I’ve been trying to respect your boundaries.”

“I’m fucked up, Kellan. You’re a good kid, and your family has been through enough. None of you deserve the destruction I'd bring."

"Stop speaking cryptically and just say what you mean."

"Fine. Put your clothes on," Pria hissed.

Dressing quickly, we left through the gate. "Are you going to talk to me?" I asked.

"If that's what you want." Her voice shook; I couldn't tell if she was crying or shivering.

"Pria," I said gently. She looked up. "Come sit in my truck. You'll be warmer." She didn't answer but followed me. I opened the passenger door and helped her in.

"After what you said about your mom, I think it’s best for you if I keep my distance.”

“Why?” 

“I think you can read between the lines.”

“Not really, so just be straightforward.”

“I'm a recovering addict. I haven't even been clean for ninety days."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's hard to find the words. Because you're the only friend I've made here and because I loved how you looked at me."

"So, you can't get involved with anyone because you’re still in recovery?” I asked.

"That's part of it."

"What's the other part?"

”My stepfather.” I’ve lived with my dad since I turned eighteen. 

“You didn’t get along?”

“In the beginning, I thought he was great. They got married when I was nine. We moved into his huge house. He made my mom happy, read bedtime stories, bought me gifts, and took us on trips. As a child, I didn't realize a man so attentive and generous could be a monster.”

"What changed? Did he start drinking?"

"I changed. He was simply waiting me out."

"Were you acting out?"

“No!” Pria bit. “I hate that you’re making me spell this out.”

“I’m not a mind-reader.”

“He’d been grooming me.”

“Oh.” My heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach as she spoke those words.

“It wasn’t just once. For years he… several nights a week he… pills became my only reprieve. I tried to tell my mother when I was fifteen, but he convinced her that I was lying. He’s a politician with deep pockets. I don’t think she could see past the dollar signs.”

“For a time, I thought I could regain some control by hooking up with men on my own terms. After realizing that didn’t work, I tried to avoid men completely. But no matter what I do, I feel dirty, used, empty.

“Does your dad know any of this?”

“He knows about my addiction. He doesn’t know I was…”

“He needs to know, Pria.” 

“Don’t meddle in what you don’t understand. You have no idea how manipulative this man is or the lengths he’ll go to get what he wants or to make something go away! The only thing that got me out of that hell was a thirty-day stay at a treatment center and a promise to my mother that if I lived with my dad, I would stay clean. I’m  trying, but most days, I’m barely hanging on.”

“If your father has a decent bone in his body, he’ll believe you.”

“Keep pushing this, and you’ll regret it, Kellan. I promise.”

“Fine. I’ll drop it for now.”

“You know what, if this is your idea of being a friend, then maybe I don’t need your friendship,” she said. 

Apologizing for hurting her feelings, I told her I was tired and said goodnight.

I couldn't sleep. At 4:00 AM, I padded to the kitchen for a glass of water and found Nan there. As soon as I saw her, my eyes welled up. I’m not a crier, but I had to talk to someone.

I explained everything about Pria, hoping for guidance. Nan insisted on telling Mr. Russo, though I tried to convince her to wait.

"Nan, I promised her. Give me time to convince her to tell him herself."

"You have one week, young man. If she doesn't tell her father, I will. I'm serious. I'll lay the groundwork and introduce myself this weekend. I’m going to make them a casserole.”

True to her word, Nan brought Mr. Russo a chicken and rice casserole that Saturday and stayed for over an hour. I hadn’t seen Pria in days. Desperate, I went to the hotel where she worked, but I couldn't get past the lobby without booking a room, which required being at least 21.

She wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I wondered if she was staying at the hotel. If so, was she avoiding me? I begged Nan for more time, but she wouldn't budge.

One random Tuesday morning, I saw two police cruisers in the Russos' driveway. My stomach dropped. I threw my keys down and ran to their house, repeatedly ringing the doorbell and feverishly pounding on the door. Mr. Russo answered, and though I didn’t know him, the look in his eyes frightened me.

“Wh…wher… I mean is… Is Pria home?”

Mr. Russo broke. Sobbing, unable to find the words, he only shook his head in answer. I don't recall how I ended up in their living room. My ears rang, drowning out his words. The white walls were mostly bare, except for Pria's school and dance photos. Watching her grow up through those pictures, I realized how little I knew her, yet she felt like the love of my life. Cold and sweating, my vision darkened, and my stomach churned. I bolted from the Russo's house, collapsing to my knees in my front yard, sobbing and retching.

**************************

Pria had gone missing the night before. Mr. Russo filed a missing persons report, called the local hospitals, searched the area on foot, and drove around town trying to find his daughter.

Eventually, a hospital worker returned his call to inform him that they found Pria. After overdosing, she’d been left on the sidewalk outside the emergency room. They found a lethal amount of fentanyl in her bloodstream. For a prolonged period, there had been such little oxygen to her brain that Pria slipped into a coma. Doctors couldn't say if she would wake, and brain damage was possible. I struggled to sleep or eat, blaming myself.

Pria's fate weighed heavily on me, flooding my mind with memories and thoughts of what could’ve been. I clung to the hope that she would return to us. Perhaps, amid this turmoil, the universe was nudging me towards a path of helping others affected by addiction. Though I wasn’t ready to make a life-defining decision, it was a possibility worth considering.

Weeks passed. Pria remained in a coma, her fate uncertain. I visited her often, reading to her, sharing stories about my day, and holding her hand, hoping she could hear me.

In those quiet moments by her bedside, I reflected on my life. The pain of losing my mother to addiction and now witnessing Pria's struggle pushed me to understand the cycle that entrapped them.

One evening, I sat with Nan on our porch. The sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, a stark contrast to the heaviness in my heart.

"Nan," I began, my voice trembling, "I want to do something meaningful with my life. I want to help people like my mother and Pria.”

Nan's eyes glistened. She reached over and squeezed my hand. "You've always had a big heart, Kellan. If this is what you feel called to do, you should do it. Talk to Pria about it. If she can hear you, I’m sure she’ll be proud. I know your mom would be."