Locked

“If you leave someone at least tell them why, because what's more painful than being abandoned; is knowing you're not worth an explanation.”

~Unknown~

I see her at the bus stop every day. I’m on one side of the street. She is on the other. We never talk. We just stare. I like the way I feel when she is near. As long as she is there, I can make it through the long days of feeling so lonely.

The little girl with the long, brown ponytail relies on me as much as I rely on her. We’re addicted to each other. Let’s face it. We are all addicted to something that takes the pain away. And that is what she does for me. Day in and day out.

On this particular day, the rest of her classmates join her. They are all decked out in their private school uniforms and shiny loafers. Although they wear the same uniform, the girl doesn’t look like her classmates. Where her classmates wear the uniform with pride, it appears to be suffocating her.

Her classmates rarely acknowledge her. There is one boy, that I recognize from recreational sports, who tries to engage her. She smiles weakly at him but goes back to pretending to be invisible.

Her silence is loud, attracting the attention of the group of girls blatantly excluding her from their group. The pretty blonde girl steps forward standing in front of ‘my girl’. It’s clear from ‘my girl’s’ expression that whatever the blonde said was not nice. But ‘my girl’ continues to look down, refusing to respond.

Next, the pushing and shoving begins. The blonde girl’s friends take turns slinging insults and shoves at ‘my girl’. But she doesn’t do anything at all to stop them. Falling to the ground, she stays planted, taking the abuse.

That’s when I first noticed the rage within me. It built and built from within until I could no longer take it. My ten-year-old mind charges over to where the girls are standing. One by one I push them out of the way, clawing my way to her. I’m met with a bunch of ‘heys’ and ‘watch its’, but I don’t care. I need to get ‘my girl’ off the ground and let her know that I will be there for her…no matter what.

I extend my hand to ‘my girl’ and wipe the tears from her eyes. Her loneliness matches mine. It’s our connection. I wipe the dirt from her knees and face. I want to injure the idiots who did this to her. I threaten each one of them telling them that I will hurt them regardless of whether they are male or female. My warning is met with gasps. What do you expect from a public school kid who defends the quiet, little girl? They are already scared of me because I’m not wearing one of their uniforms.

Finally, the crowd disperses and it just her and me. “They’re stupid.”

In a timid voice, she agrees, “Yeah. They don’t like me very much.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not from their neighborhood. I don’t belong there. My grandfather used to be the headmaster. That’s the only reason why I go there.”

Her bus is approaching. She is going to leave me. “Hey, meet me here tomorrow. We can go to the playground.” I point to the play area diagonal from my public school.

She smiles for the first time. “Yeah, okay. Same time? Tomorrow?”

I smile back. “Yep.”

She climbs the stairs of the bus and glances over her shoulder. “Bye. See you tomorrow. And…thank you.”

I wave and watch the bus until it is out of sight.

I can’t wait until tomorrow. It’s the first time I feel hope. I’m not alone.

I never got the chance to see ‘my girl again’. The principal of my school found out that I ‘assaulted’ a few of the private school kids the day before. The boy, Kevin, I think his name is, told on me. I was ordered to detention after school. By the time I got out of my punishment, she was gone.

I will never forgive that kid who told on me. Ever.

* * *

To this day, I still think about her. I was only ten years old, but I knew I liked her. There was something about her that drew me to her. I didn’t feel alone.

I’d give anything to feel the way that little girl made me feel. In fact, I’ve been searching for that same feeling my entire life. Loved without being judged. Maybe…just maybe…one day I will find her. In the meantime, I have Hannah.

Overwhelmed by her beauty, I take a minute to catch my breath. The girl renders me breathless. She’s nothing like the little girl that I met when I was ten years old. But, still pretty enough.

The little girl is gone. You have Hannah. She chose you.

My hands are shaking and I don’t dare move them from my pockets. I urge my feet to walk toward her but they are more than content standing their ground.

I’m not worthy to be here with her.

The lake is unusually quiet for such a warm day. I’m not surprised. Everyone is gearing up to head back to their fall work schedules and some are off to college for their very first time, like Hannah.

As she looks out from the dock over the lake, she is startled by the ruckus my feet are making. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself,” I reply.

I plop down next to her, scooping her in to my arms. Lazily, we watch the small crests of water hit the dock. “I’ve missed you today.” It’s a fact. I did miss her. Every waking moment I’m not with her, I miss her.
She makes me feel good. I need her. When I’m with her, I’m worth something.

“You did?” Her hand reaches behind her to trail up my face.

I grab her hand and kiss it. “I miss you all the time.”
I’m addicted to the way she makes me feel. What am I going to do when she leaves me?

A shy chuckle slips through her lips. There’s a hint of sadness in her voice. “When you say things like that it makes me want to ditch school and stay here with you forever.”

I don’t hate the thought. But I won’t be the dick who takes her future away because I want her desperately to stay. “Aww. C’mon. Don’t be sad. Going away is good. I’ll be busy with my apprenticeship. I’ll be putting in a lot of hours. If you stay, you’ll be alone a lot.” I think I’ve convinced her.

The strap of her tank top falls off her shoulder and exposes the tiny butterfly I sketched onto her skin only a month ago. I kiss the artwork. It’s not the most intricate of designs, but she wanted it. Therefore, it is the greatest piece of work I will ever design and draft on someone.

“Caydon, will you be drawing on women’s private parts?”

I hate this conversation already. She knows I will. It’s part of the job. Tattoo artists see it all.

Just last week, I tattooed my first stripper. The experience wasn’t at all as I expected. The stripper wanted a rose on her left breast right above her nipple. When I told her she had to remove her shirt and bra, she looked at me like I had three heads. For a girl who took her clothes off for a living, she was awfully shy. Needless to say, I allowed her to use the shop’s bathroom to remove her clothing. Next thing I know, she is walking out with her hands over her breasts. Shaking my head, I had her lie down with her back on the chair. I gave her a towel to cover her right breast and began carving into her skin.
Crazy chick.

Seeing the stripper’s tit didn’t do anything for me. It is just a body part I had to decorate. “Hannah, I look at the body almost like a doctor looks at his patient’s body. They are just body parts. It’s a canvas.”

Her eyes meet mine. I see a glimmer of naughtiness peeking behind her blue orbs. “Do you look at my body and see parts?”
Fuck no.

I gulp. I see more than parts. I’ve touched and kissed Hannah’s body everywhere. I’m the only guy who has had the privilege of seeing her naked. Her body is mine. She is mine.

My arms wrap around her waist sliding her on my lap. With ease, she straddles my waist. Her blue eyes bore into my dark eyes. “No, baby. I see my everything when I look at your body. You know that? Don’t you? You are my everything.”

Hannah is my everything. She is the sun. She is the moon. She is my star. Without Hannah, I would still be drinking, smoking, and fighting. I wouldn’t be focused on my career. I’d just be Caydon, from the wrong side of the tracks. I would be Caydon, the kid whose dad left him.

Dating Hannah has given me purpose. People see me differently. I’m important.

My lips lunge for hers. Slowly, my tongue enters her mouth. My hands drop to her ass grabbing and kneading her flesh. Sliding my mouth from hers, I glide my pierced tongue down her neck. Letting out a soft moan, she encourages me to keep going. I lick and bite the skin almost leaving a hickey.

From behind me, I hear a cough meant to interrupt our make-out session.

“Daddy.”

Fuck me.
Hannah’s dad stands behind us on the dock with his arms folded across his chest. This is just another reason to add to his list of why he doesn’t like me. Don’t get me wrong. I’d be pissed if it were my daughter making out with her boyfriend on my dock. It’s something I wouldn’t want to see. However, his other reasons for disliking me are absurd.

The first reason is that I’m not from Hannah’s side of the tracks. My mom and I live in a modest condo closest to town. Hannah’s mansion borders a golf course and a small lake.
Strike one.

Secondly, I don’t fit the mold of what Mr. Moore expects his daughter to date. My ink black hair hangs a little below my ears and rests at the base of my neck. Yeah, I could cut it more often but I don’t. My tongue is pierced and I have more than a couple of tats running up and down my arms. Nevertheless, that goes with the territory. I’m an apprentice at a tattoo shop in town.
Strike two.

And finally, I’m not going to college. I have a gift of drawing art on people’s bodies. And I fucking love it. The thought that I can make a few bucks doing what I love is way more enticing than sitting in a classroom all day.
Strike three.

Hannah is a smart girl. Books and learning…it’s her thing. She is entering her first year of college at the end of the summer. If all goes well, she is eventually going to law school.

I know the union seems highly unlikely. But we love each other. That’s all that matters.
Love conquers all…right?

“Mr. Moore.” I remove Hannah from my lap. I have the sudden urge to jump into the lake just to douse my hard-on in cold water.

Hannah realizes my issue. She runs to her dad and wraps her arms around him. Suddenly, he forgets the scene he stumbled upon. Hannah is his world too. His face softens and immediately I’m reminded that she is not solely mine.

With my tail between my legs, I approach the father and daughter. Her father releases his little girl and eyes me with distaste. “Caydon, I see you were able to make Hannah’s party, despite your work commitments.” Her father is clearly unhappy I cleared my schedule to be here. “We should get back to your guests, Hannah.”