"I did. That's why I changed my email every month, and why it was a string of numbers instead of names. But he helped himself to my laptop when I left to go to the washroom. Two minutes later, it was gone, and I’m forbidden to have a personal email again. He’s sworn to take my computer away if I use it for anything other than schoolwork, and he’s going to search it every day."
"Jesus Christ," he hissed. "I'm so sorry, baby. Look, I'll find you somehow."
He gave my hand a squeeze, both of us staring at the little silver and amethyst ring that he had given me. It was a simple band with a round purple stone. Plain enough that it could represent anything. I told my parents that I got it from a street vendor. There was no way I could tell them that I sort of had a promise ring at only eighteen.
I slid it off quickly, handing it to him.
"What… What are you doing?" Nate asked.
"I lost my lucky ring, didn't I? It must have fallen off in your car when you gave me a ride home from the library last week, right? So they'll have to let me contact you so that you can mail it back to me."
"You're brilliant, baby," he grinned up at me, tucking it in his pocket. Then his face fell. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you, even for a few days.”
I heard a noise in the hallway that may have been footstep
s. "I have to go," I breathed. "I'm sorry. I'll miss you so much."
He gave my hand another squeeze, then ducked down. I could barely hear him whisper, “I love you, Trisha."
Sliding the window so that it was only open a few inches, my bedroom door flung open. "What are you doing?" my father demanded. I didn’t understand why he always had to be so loud. He was intimidating enough without the volume, his shoulders filling the door frame. He looked more like a linebacker than an actuary. Yet he was always looking for risks, and ways to crush uncertainty.
"I'm letting some fresh air in here," I said. "Packing stirs up dust."
He stomped to the window, looking around, but apparently he didn't see anything. Rushing back to the hallway, he said, "Try and get this room packed quickly. Your mother needs your help wrapping all of the dishes."
"Okay."
He didn't bother shutting the door behind him. It didn't matter anyway. I had no privacy. I had no means of communication since they confiscated my phone last month. He’d searched the phone twice a day, so I couldn’t have any private communication. Then he took it away entirely because I was two minutes late coming home from school. Next he had deleted my hidden email, my only safe communication with my friends.
And now he was moving me away from Nate. The only person who had ever tried to understand me. The only person I'd ever really loved. Not that I truly understood love yet. The deep desire to be with him, the ease of sharing every feeling with him, the way he held me, telling me that I was amazing… it certainly seemed like what love was supposed to be.
I knew that Nate would be absolutely fine. Girls threw themselves at him constantly. No matter what became of him, the hot popular guy with an amazing voice and a guitar would always land on his feet. I was going to have to rebuild myself in a new city, completely alone.
Someday I’d be in a place where I could control my own life. I had to believe that someday I’d have true privacy, and choose what I shared with others or not. I had no way of knowing if Nate would really be there with me. But I’d find a way to be happy.
Using my sweaters as packing material, I quickly wrapped up some networking manuals. I couldn't believe that this was my life. Even though I knew my life would change for the better someday, it was going to be a long, hard, lonely road.
Chapter One ~ Trisha
* Seven Years Later *
Unpacking the last book, I stood back to admire my new shelf. Technical manuals across the bottom, fiction through the middle, and a few treasured classics near the top with my candle holders. Most of my reading was digital these days, having to stay ahead of what I needed to learn for work. But I liked having paper books around. I couldn’t believe I’d been in this apartment for two years before getting a proper shelf.
Breaking down the last two cardboard boxes and setting them near the door for recycling, I took a moment to admire my little apartment. It was obvious that I wasn’t a minimalist. But five years of being dragged all over the continent by my father made me pare down my possessions each time we moved. Which turned out to be nine times before I left my parents in Calgary, and I landed back in Toronto.
Now that I was somewhere stable for as long as I wanted, my space was becoming cluttered with photos I’d taken, bits of old computer and technical gear that I considered art, and endless thrift store treasures. A small dish of beach stones sat in the very center of my new shelf, one of the few sentimental objects I truly cherished.
Flopping down on the dark green easy chair that I’d found on a corner two blocks away, I tried not to think about the first time I had to pack up and leave a place. Those memories had been sneaking back no matter how hard I tried to keep my mental walls up.
Peering out the rain-streaked window, I was irritated with myself for not being livelier. The city was awash in delight and sensation, as I watched. Almost numb. Almost sad. The fog that had been saturating my mind for the past seven years had to go. I needed my life back.
On paper, my world was fine. But that paper was becoming worn and crumpled.
Knowing how rough other people's lives were made me feel guilty for not being more thankful. My little apartment was great. My best friend Carrie was supportive, hilarious, and always there for me. My job was actually quite amazing, and it made me feel truly fulfilled when my boss wasn’t talking down to me.
Many people would never understand the satisfaction of making systems run, but I secretly felt like the engineer who was driving the train sometimes. Being the IT person at a small radio station was close enough to the music industry to feel some of the excitement, but never in the middle of it all.
Glancing at the manuals I’d just unpacked, I realized they were getting old. Grabbing my phone, I dictated a note to myself to send to my office that I should update all of the technical manuals on my main drive.