“How old are you?” I asked.
Esmer puffed out her chest and stuck out her chin. “Nineteen. Why?”
“That’s what I thought. You’re technically an adult. You could’ve told your stepdad to screw himself. You could’ve left home if you really wanted to, probably asked someone from your gang to house you for a while. So, why didn’t you?”
Some of the rebelliousness seeped away from her features, robbed the confident lift from her shoulders. She avoided my gaze with a scoff. “Yeah, like my peeps from the gang had it any better than I did. At least at home I have my mom. By coming here, I better my chances of still being welcome in their house whenever she and Hunter decide to end my banishment.”
She didn’t look like a hardened gang member now, more like a kid too scared to leave the familiar. No matter how much she hated it. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized there must’ve been more to it than that. I mean, she had to have graduated from high school or at least gotten her GED in order to register for classes at Green Bay Community. How many teenage criminals did that? Maybe there was a part of her that thought about her future, wanted more out of life than causing trouble and getting the wrong sort of attention. Maybe the decision to come to Seattle hadn’t been made for her after all. Maybe it had been the escape she’d been waiting for.
I was tempted to push the matter further, call her out for not being as hardcore as she pretended to be. But I didn’t want to be just another asshole in her life. So I let it go.
Esmer lifted her hands, palms facing the sky, face drawn in miserable resignation. “Well, there you have it. Now I’m living with my stepdad’s aunt, starting community college in a new city, with more rules than I can count.” She shoved her hands back into the pockets of the windbreaker. “Seriously, the old bat won’t let me do nothing other than clean her ridiculously large mansion and do homework. She’s taken away my tunes, Charlie, my tunes!” She groaned the words up at the sky. “I don’t know anyone here so the fact that I can’t go out don’t bother me too much. I can stomach not watching TV. I mean, it sucks, but I can live without it. Going to bed early ain’t so bad either. What else am I gonna do? But I can’t live without my phone. It’s so quiet in my head!”
I cracked a smile. “I take it you like music.”
Esmer nodded, smiling wistfully. “I’ve been plotting different ways to get into my aunt’s room because, I bet you anything, that’s where she has it. But I’m coming up with nothing that sounds like it could work.”
“What kinds of bands do you listen to?” I asked as we turned onto Meridian.
As the street went on, the buildings on either side of us slowly began to change from business to residential. And the homes I was seeing were old. In good condition, but ancient.
Esmer counted them off on her fingers. “Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, the Beatles, Journey, Coldplay, Aerosmith, the Doors, Steely Dan, Heart, Guns ’N Roses, ACDC if I’m really pissed, The Runways, Chuck Berry, Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday if I’m depressed, Nat King Cole if it’s Christmas, Benny Carter, Ray Charles, Dion, the Beach Boys if I’m in a weird dancing mood, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, George Strait—”
I made a ‘time out’ sign with my hands. “Hold up. You like country music?”
“Only the classics. I wouldn’t be a true music lover if I couldn’t appreciate the classics.” She said it like it should’ve been obvious.
I snorted. “Does a true music lover appreciate rap too?”
“Of course.”
I shook my head. But I was still smiling. It was cold, Esmer’s story was just as sad and sucky as mine, we were both going to get into trouble once we got home, but I was smiling.
Did that mean I was having fun?
“You’re weird,” I finally said.
Esmer winked at me. “I know. Ain’t it charming?”
January 11th, 1800
I spoke to Dymeka of my plan. He wept at my request, fell to his knees and begged in anguish for my forgiveness. He was certain he was the cause of my suffering. Dearest Dymeka. Through tears, I explained my plan but he refused. He would allow me to suffer no longer but he said he, himself, could not live without me, nor could he die knowing he had killed me. In this impasse, he proposed a new plan.
“I will do thee justice, my love,” he swore. “We are immortal. We must protect our curse from the world, yet we need not subjugate ourselves to a prison of our own making. We need not rule the world but it is ours to discover! Flee with me once more and we will stop when thy heart grows weary.”
My dearest Dymeka. How could I have doubted him, my most precious treasure?
I took his hand, swore to follow him for as long as he wished. That very moment, we fled in the night from ourselves and all our misery. As if our self-loathing was waging war against us, we packed two bags with general supplies, saddled our horses, and rode west. I wept as we galloped in the darkness, fearing my own destruction would reach out of the tree branches and consume us both. But when the sun rose, my fears disappeared. I slowed my horse and Dymeka matched my pace.
“We are safe now,” he assured me.
I couldn't agree more.
I must confess, traveling is much better than sitting at home and contemplating the dreadful curse we set upon ourselves. We have no need for food or water. We can eat on occasion for pleasure.
