Moonlight upon the Sea - Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

Ash’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.

He sighed, pausing his game and setting the controller down. Leaning over, he picked up the phone and glanced at the screen. His stomach jolted.

It was another text from Ryo.

Hey again, kid. Third or fourth message now. I know it’s tough, but you gotta face the things that scare you. Steven and I just wanna be there for you. We got holidays coming up and a room here for ya. You’re family. – Ryo

This was horrible.

It was the worst message he could possibly have gotten.

He knew he was alone. He knew his family was dead and gone. Ash knew that unless he created a family of his own, he was going to be alone. Whether the Sunamuras wanted him in their life or not, he would always know that his family was gone. So, while Ryo’s message was sent as a way to connect with him, it wasn’t a message that Ash wanted to read.

It was a reminder.

Ash sank back into the couch with a heavy sigh, tilting his head back so that the base of his skull sunk into the top of the back cushions. Tayshia was gone, having left the house an hour or so ago saying she was going to a buffet with a friend. He didn’t know why, but he felt as lonely now as he had in his cell.

He wished he could go back in time.

Running both hands up through his hair, he tangled his fingers in the strands. The grief inside of him threatened to overwhelm him, feeling like a deep, gaping hole in his chest. He took several shallow, shuddering breaths. His eyes stung.

What if he replied to Ryo and found out that he didn’t actually care about him? What if the Sunamuras’ intentions were true, but when he met up with them again, they didn’t like the person he’d become?

God. How ashamed would his mother be if she were alive and saw what a useless loser that he was? He had this apartment for one year and the only reason why the leasing office had overlooked his record was because he was in the pre-req program. But what happened after that?

What happened if he had nowhere to go not because he couldn’t afford it, but because no one would approve him?

He was fucking useless.

Fuck, he thought as a wave of bottomless anguish washed over him for the first time in months. His leg bounced. He hadn’t wept since jail. He didn’t want to weep now, while he was in the fucking living room.

Ash gritted his teeth against the pain, which he felt inside his heart like an acute wrenching. He couldn’t cry. It was a waste of time. It was a waste of time.

Don’t fucking cry.

It’s a waste of time.

It won’t bring her back.

Ash’s hands slid to cover his face, his head still tilted back on the couch. He broke down, sobbing so hard that it made his head hurt. It felt unbearable. Endless. Like an ocean tide ripping his feet out from underneath him and forcing him below the surface of his careful façade. It hurt to weep this way, to fall prey to the loss.

He wished he could bring her back.

Shifting, he prepared to lie down with the inevitable headache, but was stopped by a crinkling sound. He frowned.

What?

Ash moved again and realized that if he did it with a certain amount of body weight, it moved the cushions. Something was trapped between them and the back of the couch. Reaching in, he pulled whatever it was out.

“An empty chip bag?” he muttered, perplexed. “Why the Hell would she stick this down the couch?”

Setting the wrapper down, he reached into the couch again. He searched the back and in-between the cushions. The continued crinkling and crackling started to grate on his nerves as he pulled more wrappers out on both sides of the sectional, standing up so he could check the entire couch. Soon, he had a pile of wrappers on the coffee table.

It was all junk food—cookies, chips, crackers, candy. Sweet or savory, she didn’t seem to have a preference. Every single package was empty.

Why?

The front door swung open.

Ash felt his heart leaping up into his chest. Quick as a flash, he used his free hand to wipe his cheeks.

Tayshia stepped into the apartment. The empty wrappers discarded stood out, shining under the light from the floor lamp and the paused game on the TV screen. Tayshia stopped dead in her tracks, eyeing the table with half-open, tired eyes.

“Care to explain why you’re performing Satanic rituals to call ants to the house?” Ash said, roughening his voice to mask that he’d just been weeping.

“No.” She walked closer to him and dropped her books and bag onto the coffee table. The wrappers crinkled and some fluttered to the carpet. When she straightened her back, she glared up at him. “Before you pop off—yes, I’m messy. We’ve established it. So move and I’ll throw it all out.”

Ash saw her bending to start gathering the wrappers, and he forgot himself and their circumstances. He started to move toward her to help. She glanced up, a flash of panic entering her eyes—something he never would have recognized had he not walked her memory—and she stumbled backward with her arms raised.

“I told you not to touch me,” she hissed, eyes blazing. “You better back up.”

“I wasn’t going to touch you. I was just—look, I wasn’t going to start in on you. I just wanted an explanation.”

“Well, you’re not going to get one!” she cried, her voice shrill and her eyes wild. She took a step back, her hands trembling at her sides. It seemed as though she couldn’t look at either him or the wrappers. Like her shame was too great.

“Okay, but this is weird. I think you should explain to me why.”

“I don’t have time for this,” she whispered, sounding like she was floating somewhere between anxiety and rage. She snatched up all of the wrappers, crumpling them together and storming to the trash can.

“You had time to stuff them in there,” Ash said, crossing his arms. “Yet you don’t have time to tell me why?”

“Just shut up, Ash!” she shrieked, slamming the trash can lid down and causing him to flinch back in astonishment. “Just shut up! Stop policing everything I do! I can’t—” She made a frustrated sound through bared teeth, hands in fists as she stomped one foot. “—take it anymore! The dishes, the dishes. Every day, it’s the dishes! It’s the books, and the papers, and the trash in the couch, and the fact that I’m in the bathroom for too long! Can’t you just leave me alone?!”

By the look on her face and the way he could see her arms trembling, she was not in a right state of mind. And knowing what he knew about Paris...remembering how she’d fallen apart on the floor of that hotel room with the knowledge that her boyfriend had kept her phone from her with intent...Ash knew better than to let his anger control him at this moment.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

Ash was by no means perfect, but he never wanted to be angry with her again. God knew she had enough rage burning inside of her for the both of them.

“Take a fucking second, will you?”

Tayshia sucked in her breath and held it. Her hands were shaking so much that her fingers had curled. She didn’t look okay. She didn’t look okay at all.

Ash took a cautious step toward her, his gaze bouncing back and forth between her frenzied eyes and clenched hands. He’d never been in this situation before and he didn’t know exactly what to say. He just knew that whatever she said, he needed to counter it.

“Let out your breath,” he said. “You’re gonna get lightheaded.”

“Why couldn’t you just throw them away and not say anything?” was her reply, and it came out as a borderline sob. “Why did you have to be so mean about it?”

“Breathe.”

Tayshia exhaled right as Ash inched closer to her. They were between the coffee table and the side of the sectional closest to the kitchen, and he could feel the heat of her body as he stopped right in front of her.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said under her breath, shaking her head. “I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time.”

“You have time,” he said, trying to keep his voice as soft as possible. With a slow, smooth pace, he lifted his hands to take both of hers in his own. As gentle as though she were made of glass, he wrapped his fingers around them, feeling how rigid they were in her panic.

She tried to pull away but he held tighter, his forefingers curving around the backs of her palms. His thumb dug into her pressure point, a place his mother had shown him to be calming during the times that he felt panicked after his father hit him. He wanted to soothe Tayshia the exact same way.

“Calm down.”

“I don’t want to be calm.” Her head shook from side to side as she gazed up at him imploringly. “I don’t—”

“Calm,” he murmured, raising his chin, “down.”

“No! I don’t—Ash—” She ripped her hands away, her anxiety rising in her eyes again. “I don’t want to be calm! I told you to leave me alone!"

Before he could do or say anything else, she turned, walked away, and slammed the bathroom door shut.

Ash scowled, dropping his head back and scrubbing at his face with his hands. She was insufferable. She was a nightmare.

Why the fuck did she put food wrappers into the couch?!

---

Every time he got a letter, Ash contemplated opening it.

The wooden chest on his dresser was starting to get full, the envelopes having to have their edges folded just to get the newest one in. They came around the same time each week, the paper of the envelope always stained with what Ash could only assume were his father’s tears.

It was the middle of October—a Friday—and here Ash stood, staring down at yet another one. His father’s handwriting on the front had gotten worse, the normally solid lines looking wobbly and broken. The ink went from dark to light in an ombre pattern that seemed unintentional.

Maybe if he opened the newest one, he’d find out why.

Standing in front of his dresser, wooden chest open and letter in hand, Ash wanted to. He wanted to open it just to see. Just to know.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t because if he did, then he’d have to face down all of the other letters. He’d have to face down the fact that his father kept calling. The letters were Gabriel’s metaphorical attempts to make sure Ash knew he still thought of him. That he was still his son even if Ash didn’t want to call him his father.

If he read one of the letters, Ash would have to read them all and if he read them all, he’d hate himself.

He folded the edges of the envelope and tucked it into the chest, closing the lid and throwing the latch.

It was for the best.

Turning, he went out to the kitchen to make himself a snack. School had been stressful that day, with almost all of his teachers assigning mini essays for the weekend. He never had been much of a writer. Word counts were hard to hit when his thoughts were too loud to sort through.

He felt like he existed inside of a tornado.

As he waited for a bagel to toast, Ash tried not to think too much. He knew if he allowed himself to think, he’d focus on the fact that his father’s birthday was in January. Ash was no longer in jail. He had no excuse if he chose not to visit Gabriel in prison. The letters going unanswered could be explained away by a wrong address.

But Ash had been released.

If he didn’t go visit his father, then Gabriel would know it was on purpose. After losing his wife, the definitive nail in the coffin of his son’s abandonment would destroy him. Ash knew that. It wasn’t rocket science.

Gabriel would be devastated.

“Why do you look so angry?”

Ash looked up from the kitchen floor, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned his hips back against the counter. He saw Tayshia entering the room from the hallway and to his surprise, she was wearing the hoop earrings he’d bought her. Which, he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised because she wore them all the time. He just wasn’t sure if she’d want to wear the things he’d bought her after their last encounter.

“Nah, I’m cool,” he said, running a hand through his hair while resting the other on the edge of the counter by his hip. “How’s your day?”

“It’s fine.” She went to the refrigerator and withdrew a can of the diet cola she’d asked him to buy. She popped the tab and then took a drink, staring at him while she did so. Then, she said, “Your shirt’s ripped.”

Ash glanced down at his blue-and-black-striped shirt. It had no collar, giving it a wider neckline that showed parts of his tattooed collarbones. “It’s just how the shirt came.”

“Oh.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Your dress is cute.”

“My dress?” She looked down at her lavender plaid dress, then gave him an inscrutable look. “Thanks.”

This was the first conversation they’d had since her panic attack. In a strange way, it managed to be awkward while not feeling awkward. They hadn’t spoken at all except over random text messages. Ash still couldn’t look at her without thinking of Paris. The nightmare or memory, or whatever it was, was burned into his mind.

He bit his lower lip and looked down at her sternum, where he could see the crystal. It looked so small and unassuming.

Could it really be the thing that connected them together?

The bagel popped up from the toaster.

Ash pushed away from the counter and turned to grab a plate. He’d already retrieved the cream cheese from the fridge, so all he had to do was get a butter knife and start spreading.

Tayshia crossed behind him, the heavy thud of her combat boots against the linoleum alerting him.

“Wait, where are you going?” he asked.

She paused in the entrance of the hallway. “To my room. Why?”

“No,” he said, gesturing at her with the knife. “I mean, you got your shoes on and shit. Where are you going?”

“Well, I’m going to a Halloween party with my friends. It’s at Keely Daniels’ house.”

“It’s only the fifteenth,” he said, the scraping of the knife against the bagel seeming loud.

“Apparently she’s back for the weekend from college and wanted to throw an early party. My friends said they were going, so I said I’d go with them.” Tayshia’s acrylics tapped against her soda can. “It’s probably not your scene. It’s just gonna be like, the sports kids and stuff.”

“Parties?” Ash laughed as he tossed the knife into the sink for him to clean later. He took a large bite of his bagel, wiping cream cheese off of the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Parties have always been my scene. Where do you think the best place to sell was back then? Football players pay. Including your little boyfriend, Kieran.”

Tayshia’s facial expression was disbelieving. “Kieran didn’t do any drugs. There’s no way. They do drug tests.”

Ash held in another laugh. “If you think that they were testing any of their star players, you’re delusional. The only thing Christ Rising has going for it is the football team.”

“Um, no,” she said, glaring at him, “I’m not stupid, Ash. I dated him for years. I know he got tested multiple times.”

“I’m sure he did.” Ash took another bite. “And I’m sure it’s easy for the coaches to simply pretend he passed every single one.”

Tayshia scowled. “I’m not interested in fighting with you. I’d literally rather die than hear you yelling at me right now.”

“I’m not yelling.”

“But you will yell because you always yell.”

“No, I do not always yell.”

“Yes, you do. The first chance you get, you’re—” Tayshia cut herself off with a wave of her hand. “You know what? No. I’m not doing this. I need to go finish getting ready.”

Ash stood there, fuming as he watched her disappear down the hallway.

They needed to talk about the dream. He knew that was why they were reverting back to the volatility that had existed in the apartment back in September. If they kept trying to bottle it up and ignore what they’d experienced, then it was only going to make things more toxic.

He finished his bagel and then washed the couple of dishes he’d dirtied. As he put the cream cheese back into the refrigerator, Tayshia came stomping back out wearing a coat over her dress. She set the half-empty soda can on the counter and breezed to the front door.

“You gonna throw that away?” he called angrily.

“Do it yourself.”

The front door slammed shut.

It took every ounce of self-control Ash had in his body not to go out there after her. For a moment, he forgot about the dream and let his anger overwhelm him. But then, as fast as the tide came in, it washed back out. He took a deep breath.

She wasn’t a bitch. She was in pain.

Ash went into his room. Right as he opened the door, he heard his phone buzzing on his bed where he’d left it. He jogged over to grab it, plopping down on the edge of the mattress amongst his messy blankets. It was a text from Elijah.

You up to party tonight?

Ash dropped his head back in exasperation. Things still hadn’t gotten any better with Elijah and though he wanted to try and work things out, he didn’t want to have to do it at a party full of people he hated.

Depends, Ash typed back. Is it Keely’s party?

Yeah, the Halloween party. We don’t have to dress up or anything. And you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d ask.

Couldn’t we just kick it here at my place? Ash grimaced as he typed. Probably best if I’m nowhere near Kieran O’Connell right now.

Why?

Ash froze. He wasn’t sure how to explain that.

It wasn’t like he could tell Elijah that he’d somehow found himself inside of Tayshia’s body during a nightmare that was most likely a memory, and that in the nightmare-memory-thing, Kieran was a fucking prick.

And if he went to the party, would his temper keep itself in check? Ash had already disliked Kieran before the nightmare. If Ash heard him say one wrong thing, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to hold himself back. There were thousands of reasons for him to punch Kieran in the face, and exactly zero valid reasons why he shouldn’t.

He’s just an asshole, Ash replied. And I hate him.

Elijah replied with a laughing emoji and then typed, Bro just come to the party. There’s gonna be so many people there you probably won’t even notice him.

Ash rolled his eyes. Fine. I’ll meet you downstairs.

Omw.

This was going to cause problems. Tayshia was going to be annoyed. She was going to think he was following her there.

Probably because he was.