“It didn’t seem so bad when I was a kid, because I had my brother with me. He was older and he would always manage to find food. I idolised him for a long time. When my mom died, my brother was eighteen and he had a job at a local car wash. I guess CPS didn’t look too far into it. One less kid for them to worry about. Jace got enough money to send me to school. He helped as much as he could with my school work and he kept food on the table.
“Until he didn’t. Until drugs and booze became more important. Until I became nothing but a punching bag for him and his friends to torture. He found lipgloss in my room. A girl in school had given it to me. I was gay, not that I ever told my brother that. I guess I didn’t need to, though. He knew and he took that as a valid reason to make my life miserable. The beatings, I got used to. Hiding my bruises became second nature to me; it’s not like my mother was shy about raising her hand to me even as a toddler. Yes, the beatings I could take.
“What I couldn’t take was constantly being told I was vile and disgusting. I was nothing in this world and I deserved every ounce of pain that he and his friends exacted on me. The torture was relentless, and I realized that I had two options: run and live, or stay and die.
“Every second of every minute of my life I have lived in fear of my family, the people who are supposed to love and protect me. I stand here today to ask you to please give me as much time as possible to live without the fear of my brother finding me and killing me like he promised many times. Take his freedom and give me a chance to live. Thank you, Your Honor.”
My heart aches for Blake. Hearing about his life, how he never really had a chance to live. Yet he is this exceptional young man. I doubt I will ever know that depth of strength. Standing as he comes back, I throw my arms around him and hug him to my body. I feel another set of arms embracing him from behind, then another and another until we are essentially in a cuddle pile. Blake will never go another day without knowing what being loved feels like. Not only from my parents, but from everybody here today.
“I’m so proud of you,” I whisper, not ashamed that tears are streaming down my face. I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a dry eye in the court right now. “It’s over, Blake. It’s your time now,” I assure him. Whatever he wants to do with his life, I vow I will do everything in my power to make it happen for him. This is his chance at a redo. Parents who love him. A brother who would walk through fire for him and a very large extended family. “We’ve got you, remember?”
None of us move or lift our heads until we hear the judge asking for Jace to stand up.
“Mr Jace Kemsley, you have pled guilty to the charge of second degree attempted murder and being in the possession of an illegal firearm. You will remain incarcerated for twenty years, with the possibility of parole after no less than fifteen years.”
He goes on to talk about appeals, but I block it all out, looking at Blake. His tear-stained face actually has a smile on it.
“Now it really is over,” I tell him, hugging him back against me. “You never need to see him again.”
“It’s over for you too, Jordy,” Blake reminds me.
I just nod, looking over his head at my boyfriend, who is watching us with watery eyes.
“I love you,” I mouth at Eric, just to see his smile widen.
“I love you more, Lashes”, he mouths back.
I always thought I would get the ick hearing a guy tell me he loves me. Not Eric, though. I will never get sick of hearing it from him, and I doubt I ever will.
EPILOGUE
Eric
“Lashes, is there a reason a bunch of my shoes are in the ‘donation’ box?”
Jordan and I are knee-deep unpacking our things into our new home. Even though I thought Jordan might have wanted his space back after the sentencing, I was wrong. He decided then and there that he didn't want to waste any more time. We moved in together that weekend and have been cohabiting in bliss for the last two years. However, it did become apparent that even though my apartment was the bigger of the two, it was still not big enough to store all of our shit.
It took a while, but we finally found a house we both loved with a yard and everything. The guys left a while ago after helping with the heavy stuff, leaving Jordan and I to unpack the one thousand boxes we have accumulated. I choose to start with the kitchen stuff, letting Jordan work though the boxes of our clothes. I did mention that he could choose some of my older suits to donate to the shelter for the teens to have formal clothes for interviews and things. I do not remember donating four pairs of shoes.
“Old man shoes,” he calls from somewhere in the box maze, like that was the obvious answer and I was dumb for not thinking of it. The sad thing is he is probably right. Even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t be worth the argument to put them back.
“Is there anything else you choose to donate?” I ask, not sure I even want to know the answer.
“Of course there is. Never mind that, though, can you come help me? My makeup is in one of these boxes and I want to make sure that it isn't broken.”
“I can't even see you, Lashes.”
“Just follow the sound of my voice. Want me to sing?”
“No, definitely not. Just keep talking and I'll find you.” I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all.
“Did you get a call from Blake? He’s thinking of going pre law. How incredible is that?”
I had spoken to Blake late last night and I may have gotten a little choked up when he told me. He wants to go into family law. The change in the kid over the last few years is immeasurable. He sprouted in height and filled out thanks to Mama Bell’s cooking. His smile seems to grow bigger every time I see him. Which is often—he never misses a Facetime call with us. Probably because Jordan stalks the poor kid’s life, but I think he secretly loves it. He went from having nobody to having a full Brady Bunch-sized family.
Moving a box out of my way, I find my boyfriend sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor hunting through a box of lace panties.
“Did you pack your makeup with your panties?” I ask, smirking down at him. We have added so many new pairs over the years, but that red jock he wore the night we met will always be my favourite. When I see it hanging off his finger as he looks up at me with a salacious smile on his face, I get the feeling that he isn’t bothered about the makeup anymore.
