Chasing Zero

Twelve

Saying that driving home with Sky was like driving home with a different person was too cliché. He wasn't a different person, just a more open one. His history must have weighed on his shoulders since he met me, prompting him to wonder if I'd look at him the same way ever again. But the man he told me about in his past was a different person. There were no traces of him in the Sky who sat across from me in that diner or the man who drove me home, singing loudly and out of tune with the radio.

Sky was fun to be around. There surely were stronger words to use, but it all meant the same. From the conversation onwards, the night was enjoyable. This was the sort of fun I missed out on in high school, at least until the end. This was the fun college experience my mom wanted me to have, where I could let loose with someone else and not worry about any repercussions. I was happy by his side. He was an incredible man and someone I wanted to keep in my life for a long time.

When he pulled up in front of my house at the end of the night, he turned off his car and leaned back in his seat. I didn't make an effort to leave. I didn't want to yet. I wanted to stay with him a little longer. There was this energy about him, something that drew people in. It was no wonder he was so popular with everyone in Acting I. How could anyone not want to surround themselves with such a charming man?

"Look, Spencer," he exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was nervous, the words mumbling through his lips. He needed comfort, and I placed my hand over his. He interlocked our fingers. "About what I said at dinner-"

"What is your favorite color?"

"Spencer," he groaned.

"I'm serious, you never answered my question." Patting his hand, I smiled. "I don't care about what you used to do so long as you're not still doing it-"

"I'm not."

"-but I am seriously wondering if you are telling the truth or just trying to impress me with your story telling skills."

He stared me in the eye. "Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know. I know you have nothing to gain from it, but the person I'm sitting next to seems nothing like the person you claimed to be in high school. I can't draw a correlation at all, so I have the right to be cautious." He stared down at his lap, and I tightened my hold on his hand. "But that doesn't mean I don't believe you. Whatever man you were before, you have certainly grown away from it. You are a changed man. I don't see the man from before, only this beautiful soul sitting next to me."

I may have pushed him over the edge. I wondered if anyone ever had the courage to say something like that to him. Then again, it wasn't like he told many people about that part of him, his dead side. For all I knew, I could have been the only person he told his story too outside his group of supporting friends. The first person who didn't watch him struggle and didn't know, only heard, of the hardships he faced. And without any consolidation that he was a changed man, the doubt began to fester, causing him to believe he was still the same person from before. But I didn't see a druggie in front of me. I saw a man who was working as hard as the rest of us to keep his life together.

It was no wonder I wound up cradling his head as he clung onto me, crying his eyes out as we awkwardly leaned over the middle counsel. I didn't want to let him go. Having him hold onto me felt like the personification of what I wanted my readers to feel when they read my books. To hold onto each word, crying as they realize there is someone who can convey the emotions they feel. I wanted all of my readers to feel represented, as though they had someone who they could lean on and know will be there for them through every step of their personal journey, I poured my heart and soul into each piece I wrote, a part of me then lingering around the reader as they walk away from the book in gratitude that there was someone out there who knew what they felt. I don't want my readers to travel alone. And I didn't want Sky to feel alone anymore.