Ember Boys by Gregory Ashe

Author:Gregory Ashe [Ashe, Gregory]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gregory Ashe
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

15 | EMMETT

I dressed as I walked, hopping into my shoes, not slowing because I could hear Jim coming after me. The asshole was going to die from the fever or die from exposure. And he was still coming after me. Asshole, asshole, asshole. I didn’t know if I meant him or me.

Eventually, I didn’t hear him behind me anymore, and I kept walking. Miles, probably. San Francisco glowed like a fallen star to the west, and I walked that way. Not because it made any difference where I went, but because it was easier than having to make a decision. I just walked.

Once, I caught a glimpse of myself in the display window of a bookstore. I hurried on, and two blocks later, I spun on my heel and ran back. I looked around for something to smash the glass. And then I thought of Vie and his temper tantrums. I stared into the window, stared at my reflection—thin and staticky like a lunar transmission. That seemed about right; I was so far out of my mind, I might as well have been in outer space. I saw the guy who stared back at me, with half his face butchered. I wanted to look away; instead, I made myself walk up and down in front of the glass, watching myself, tracing every scar, watching the son of a bitch in the glass, trying to get to know him because he wasn’t ever going away. On every step, I told myself I hated Jim Spencer. It got into my blood like a tattoo. It got me wild.

And then I stopped, staring at my shadow reflection, finally eye to eye with the thing on the other side of the glass. It wasn’t Jim’s fault I was a fucking monster. He wasn’t the first guy who couldn’t stand to look at me; he wouldn’t be the last. It just hurt, that was all. It hurt more with Jim, for some reason. And that was stupid.

I thought of him coming after me, so sick he could barely stand, but coming after me because the poor dumb fuck was worried about me, thought I was the one who needed help. Too fucking stupid to realize he was the one who needed me, at least for now. And I thought about the facts: I had no money, no phone, no way back to San Elredo, and no way to score. I thought I’d gotten clean in rehab; I thought I’d been better. But right then, my head was already starting to hurt. I wanted a needle and a spoon and a few minutes when I didn’t have to remember: that I’d killed a girl I loved; that I’d walked away from a boy who loved me and needed me; that I was the thing on the other side of the glass.

I headed back the way I’d come, and two miles later, I found Jim stumbling around, barefoot, in his jeans and shirt but no coat.

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