After a risky prison escape, Edward Bianchi and John Becker struggle to find safety and a new home together. Their love is the bond that keeps their shaky new life from falling apart.
Join them on a journey of forging peace and trust amidst a dark past riddled with trauma, pain, childhood abuse, and past crimes as they cope with the the most important part: forgiveness.
But is forgiveness even possible in the face of the horrible crime John committed?
“The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own,” I whispered to Edward later that dusky early midnight hour.
The mirror always felt like a tool that could help me. It could show me what I wanted. I could be the man I needed to be. That I was meant to be.
Cracking like a skipping CD with a repeating track, I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I heard the song playing in the background of the restaurant and I know Edward looked concerned.
The speakers are playing No Doubt, that song momma used to play when I was a kid. “Don’t Speak.”
In a crappy midnight diner that served food 24/7, I felt the pattern of my own life circling around like a cuckoo bird.
I ran to the bathroom, sinking myself into a fading, rejected reflection.
I felt myself wanting to throw up, but I tried to hold on to my turned over stomach. I took in a deep breath, hacking a bit into a small coughing fit, before I turned on the water as I hear a screeching sound that makes me fall over. As I looked up, I saw my own insides tumbling out of my mouth and a shadow behind me.
The shadow felt heavy like a mold, a cocoon, a dark cover.
I can’t breathe and it’s a glowing red spiral -- he gripped onto me and whispers, “Tonight.” The grip became heavier. I felt faint. “Tonight. You.”
I can’t remember how, but I jolted out of the tremor, finding myself walking back to our table.
When I sit down next to my boyfriend, Edward tried to joke, “It’s all that Alaska pie, huh, baby?”
I nodded and smiled a bit. “Maybe.”
He nodded to the waitress and waved her to come over to pay for the bill.
As soon as we get to the car, he held my hand tight.
“John, what’s really wrong? You look like you saw a ghost ever since that earlier dream. Was it that song?”
He’s gripping the wheel as tightly as he did when he helped me escape prison, his wide and tired eyes barely lit by the nearby fluorescent diner overhead sign. The moon is hidden by a clouded sky, and the stars are murky like a child’s finger painting, smashed together and sloshed. I know I keep having these horrible nightmares where I’m still awake but cannot move and sometimes even when I’m awake with Edward these dreams still spill over. Haunting late-night diners in our cold new Alaskan town seems to be Edward and I’s new definition of date night, moreover -- it’s a way to keep my anxiety in check.
I nodded. “I’m sorry, Edward. I’ve been keeping you up these past few weeks ... I don’t think that the melatonin works very well ...” I chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of my neck and back roughly. Edward bites his lip and sighs softly.
“I know it’s nerve-wracking. Moving from place to place and not knowing if we’re in the clear. I wish I could just know if we were safe. I can barely sleep myself. I think that doctor is good for you, we just gotta find the right mix to help your anxiety at night ...” Edward rambled and gripped my hand tighter.
I leaned in and brushed my cheek against his. I heard his sigh softly, and I whispered, “Ah, I’m so happy to be with you -- you are the most caring guy ever.”
Edward leaned into my touch, and I feel him shiver, kissing my cheek.
“Anything for you ...” Edward cooed as our lips drew closer, and we kissed for a brief moment, the fog hitting our window shield and windows as the heat climbed heavy from the air conditioner.
“Let’s go home, I’ll keep you safe as we sleep ...” Edward whispered, turning the dials to change the temperature of the air conditioner to clear the windows.
The wind whipped my hand as I let it free out the window as Edward drove us to our tiny home. We were renting a room out of a large boarding house near downtown Whittier, Alaska. After that fiasco with Edward being seen by his ex-girlfriend Delia, we moved quickly overnight from Mexico, finding a way into a new and more desolate place where no one could find us.
It was a smart move. Small population, less than three hundred. Cold and reclusive. I love the cold.
Edward doesn’t. He always looks miserable in this weather. I give him my coat, I hold him closer to me at night when he’s asleep, thinking of him shivering and all I want to do is keep him warm.
He did this for me.
All of this was for me.
