Runaways Read online

  Xavier.

  His eyes flicked up, and I froze. Lowering my camera, he gave me a nod of recognition.

  Damn, he gave good nod.

  I had to get far, far away from that nod. Breaking eye contact, I turned and made good my escape, tripping over a sleeping dog with my first step.

  “Harper?” he called out.

  I sped up, hoping to outrun his voice.

  “Hey, stop!” I felt his hand on my arm and electricity surged through it. “Are you running from me?”

  “No, I’m…” Think, girl, think… “partially deaf?”

  Yep. That was the best I could come up with.

  His face fell. “Oh, sorry.”

  And then I felt bad.

  “It’s okay… It comes and goes.”

  He raked his fingers through his jet-black hair and said, “So where are you going?”

  I suppressed a smile as I noticed the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to take photographs of the market.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Hell no.

  “That’s alright, you look busy,” I said, glancing at the children before turning and continuing.

  “They’ll have each other,” he said catching up. “Besides, I finished the lesson.”

  “Lesson?”

  “The guy I’m renting the house from dropped my rent in exchange for me teaching his son guitar. The other kids love it, so I teach them all when I’m done with him.”

  I swore I felt my ovaries explode.

  He was dead set on joining me and it would have been rude to talk him out of it, so I decided to keep my thoughts under control, and keep him at arm’s length until it was time for my two-year anniversary Skype date with Adam at three-thirty.

  ***

  Xavier was a patient companion as I kept stopping to take pictures as we navigated the market. In the hustle and bustle, I snapped images of the colourful wares for sale, some abstract shots to show the textures of the silks, jewelry, lanterns and kaftans, as well as portraits of the equally interesting characters that make and sell them.

  Stopping to buy my third bottle of water for the hour at the stall outside of the Internet café, he asked, “So I never got to ask what brought you traveling. Is this something you always planned on doing?”

  As I guzzled half of it, I took the chance to consider my words. “Not exactly. Jade, Lana and I talked about it in university. And then my life took a different path doing the whole marketing career thing, but they still planned the trip. And then about three weeks ago my I lost my job, so I tagged along.”

  “Sounds like losing your job was a blessing in disguise.”

  “How so?” The jury was out to lunch on that one.

  “Look at your life now. You have no deadlines, no responsibilities, no one to boss you around and tell you what to do.”

  Lowering my camera, I murmured, “I guess.”

  “Look at where you are. You’re in paradise,” he grinned and pulled his Ray Ban aviators off his face, “with a very charming young man, I might add.”

  I giggled and dropped my eyes to the ground. I didn’t think I had giggled since I was a teenager.

  “Did you want to do marketing for the rest of your life?”

  “I thought I did,” I said with a shrug.

  “So would you rather waste your youth working a job you’re not sure you want or have the most enlightening experience you could ask for?”

  “I didn’t leave home to Eat, Pray, Love and find myself. I booked my ticket because I lost my job and thought…” I caught my words, “I had no other options.”

  “Well, I’m not one for praying,” he leaned in, and my vision tunneled into his leaden eyes, “but eating and loving are two of life’s greatest pleasures.”

  “Oh,” I exhaled. Well, who could argue with that?

  Pushing his Ray Bans back on he brushed past me, and the air between us crackled. Fixated on him, I spun around and watched him pull a paisley printed guitar from a display and strummed Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” as if he had played it a million times.

  “So you are a musician.” I raised my camera and framed him in the viewfinder.

  “I suppose you can say that.”

  “That explains your tattoos.”

  “Oh, you noticed them?” His teasing smile knocked me off balance yet again.

  He placed the instrument back in place, and my heart drummed as he raised the sleeve of his worn Rolling Stones t-shirt. Pointing out the stanzas of music notes that ran the length of his arm I read the immortal words of Bob Marley.

  I began to see stars as I studied the tight lacing of muscle. Then the rapid click of the shutter button rocketed me back to Earth. I had been strangling my camera within an inch of its life.

  It was time for a fresh bottle of water.

  “So,” I cleared my throat and walked into a stall filled with silk garments, “is music what you want to do with your life?”

  “Music is my life and will be until I die.” His spine straightened, and he leaned against a wooden post. “I’ll work somewhere in the industry, but who knows where it will take me. I’m still young.”

  Too young.

  “And your parents support your music?”

  “Of course. They’re both artists.”

  I masked a pang of envy and turned away. My parents supported it as a hobby.

  “What about your photography?”

  My focus fixed on a crimson silk dress, and I rubbed its soft hem between the pads of my fingers. When I started university, I had accepted that it wasn’t a viable career option, but I loved it nonetheless. After Audrey died, it was the only thing that would get me out of bed in the morning. But over the years I became too busy with work and Adam to keep it going.

  “It’s been just a hobby until I came on this trip. I was going through a really bad couple of days after my job let me go, and I lost my mind thinking it could do it as a career.”

  “Sounds like you had an epiphany.”

  “A crazy idea during a mental breakdown?” I whipped around and found him a little too close for comfort.

  “There’s a thin line between crazy and genius,” he said, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind my ear, “straddle it.”

  The devilish glint in his eyes tied a knot in my throat. As I gulped it down, he stepped back.

  “Ma’am, would you like to try this dress on?” A speck of a woman in a yellow sari jumped up from a stool. With a soft smile, she said, “Trying is free.”

  You just had to love the sales strategies.

  Behind a brick-coloured curtain, I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I slipped the dress over my head, steadying myself with a hand on the cool mirror. Hoping for some relief after playing with fire all afternoon, I pressed my cheeks against it.

  “I love Adam. I love Adam. I love Adam.” Circles of fog pulsed on the glass as I repeated the words.

  Adam wasn’t just any guy. He wasn’t even my boyfriend. He was more than that. He was the man I promised to pledge my life to. Even though we hadn’t said our vows, to me, our vows of fidelity were in effect the day we used the labels “boyfriend” and “girlfriend”. I had always felt cheating was morally reprehensible, and after helping Jade get through her breakup after that asshat Cliff cheated on her, I saw firsthand the immediate and lasting results of infidelity. Seeing her hurting so much broke my heart, and I hoped never to experience it or cause that pain for someone else.

  But I had to admit my attraction to Xavier. And it was an attraction unlike anything else I had ever felt. It wasn’t like the rational attraction I felt for Adam, but something else, like my body had a mind of its own and was starving my brain of oxygen so I didn’t behave how I should. I had hoped that if I denied my attraction enough I could convince myself that I wasn’t, and the feelings would go away. That clearly wasn’t working, so I decided to acknowledge it and proceed. And this had gone on far enough. I had to tell Xavie
r that I was engaged, and I was not going to cheat on my fiancé.

  “Ma’am, I’ll give you discount for the dress.” The shopkeeper’s voice startled me.

  I took a quick glance in the mirror and decided that I liked it. It had an empire waistline with elastic ruching that held the bust tight, and a skirt that flowed in a subtle A-line to mid-thigh. Delicate straps in the middle of the bust could be tied in a bow, so it was strapless or around the neck to change it to a halter style. The red popped with my new tan and, dare I say, it was actually kind of sexy. It had been a long time since I felt sexy.

  Carefully peeling off the dress, I changed, pulled back the curtain, handed over my rupees and stepped into the road.

  “You tried it on already?” His smile faded. “I was hoping to see you in it.”

  “Well, I bought it so you’ll see it at the silent disco,” I said, keeping my voice cool and body distant.

  He gestured for me to follow him. “I’ve ordered us a couple of mango lassis from next door. Come, sit.”

  As I reached to grab the back of my chair, he placed his hand on mine, and insisted that he pulled it out for me. I placed my camera in my bag and set it on the edge of the table as he took the seat across from me.

  “Thank you. Who said chivalry was dead?” I joked, trying to deny how special that small gesture made me feel. And how my hand still tingled from the contact.

  He laughed. “Force of habit. If I didn’t demonstrate proper manners growing up, I was scolded.”

  “So is that how you charm all the girls?”

  I resisted the urge to smack myself in the face for that cheesy line.

  His smile faded. “I’m more of a one-woman man.”

  “Oh,” I said, diverting my eyes to stop me from falling into his. I needed to figure out how to steer the conversation. I couldn’t outright say, Hey I’m engaged, by the way, so this can’t go anywhere, buddy, because maybe he wasn’t flirting with me, it could have all been in my head, and then I would be left even more embarrassed. “And Leo?”

  “Leo plays the field.” He quickly added, “But he likes Lana. He hasn’t expressed interest in anyone else.”

  “Don’t worry, I doubt Lana’s looking for anything serious.”

  “And you,” he said, “do you have someone waiting for you at home?”

  Here we go.

  I took a big sip of the cool yogurt drink, trying to figure out the best words to use. Once I told him about Adam, everything would change. But part of me didn’t want it to change. It had been so long that I had enjoyed someone’s company like this. I mean, I loved Adam, but the circumstances under which we met weren’t exactly conducive to flirting and sexual tension. We were both depressed and spent much of our time making sure the other was staying afloat emotionally. What I was experiencing with Xavier I had relegated to the realms of fiction, accepting that so long as I could read about it, I was fine with never experiencing it in real life.

  “I guess not if you’re here with me,” he added.

  “Well… you see… I…”

  Suddenly, in a passing blur, my bag disappeared from the table.

  “My bag!” I screamed, bolting up and stumbling between the chairs. “Oh my God, my camera!”

  Xavier had already leapt to his feet and was sprinting after the thief. I pushed the table out of the way and trailed behind, weaving throughout the swarming shoppers and cows grazing on garbage, barely able to keep up. Each time I lost sight of the thief, I saw my dreams disappear. All those photos, all that work, poof, gone! And my heart broke at the thought of never seeing that camera again. It had more sentimental value than anything I owned. It was a physical piece of Audrey’s memory. As my lungs burned, I wished I had done some real exercise in the past year, but I pushed past it to keep up.

  Nearing the end of the stretch of market stalls, the crowd thinned out. Outside of a lantern shop, I saw Xavier tackle the man to the ground twenty feet ahead. As Xavier rose to his feet, he pulled the thief up by the neck of his shirt.

  Oh God, he’s going to pummel him.

  I approached but kept my distance, keeping a quivering hand on my mace.

  The thief pressed his hands together, keeping his stance low as he muttered words I couldn’t understand, but recognized as begging. Begging for mercy. Xavier softened his posture.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he cooed.

  He motioned for the thief to follow him to a food stall. Reaching into his pocket he took out some rupees, handed them to the shopkeeper and asked him to give the thief as much food and water as his money would buy.

  This guy tries to steal my bag and Xavier rewards him?

  I stared down my nemesis. Threadbare rags hung from his skeletal frame. Desperate eyes sunk into hollow cheeks. Only a few teeth were housed behind his ashen lips. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten or bathed for weeks. Despite its colourful veneer, India was a country plagued by poverty, and poverty breeds desperate actions. Audrey had paid the ultimate price for it years ago.

  Fear gripped me. How could I have been so naïve to think something couldn’t happen to me? The world was a scary, scary place, and I should never have left home.

  Xavier turned and strode towards me, bag in hand, and I felt my face heat. He enveloped me in his strong arms, as tears streamed down my cheeks. As he held me, he stroked my hair and hummed “Three Little Birds”, his lips resting on the crown of my head. I melted into him, riding the rise and fall of his ribcage, soothed by the strumming of his heart. And there, on a dirt road in Goa next to a lantern shop, after my first taste of personal violation on the road, I wept on the muscular chest of a guy who made me feel funny feelings I loved and hated in equal measure.

  Wrapped in his arms, I found sanctuary. The tears began to stem, and I steadied my breathing. Inhaling his scent, a heady combination of musk and salt, he felt like a perfect summer’s day.

  He loosened his hold, and I stifled a whimper. I could have lived forever in that moment.

  “It’s all good,” he said with a comforting smile. “I have your bag.”

  Embarrassment washed over me as I realized our public display. Shoppers and shopkeepers alike were still starting. Wiping my tears, I straightened my back and tried to act as if nothing had happened. Despite my attempts to look like a normal and together person I obviously looked like a mess. I knew so much mascara pooled under my eyes that Marilyn Manson would be jealous and, missing his embrace, I clutched myself as if I was wearing an invisible straight jacket.

  “My hero,” I joked, forcing a smile through trembling lips.

  He peeled my right hand off of my left arm and interlaced our fingers. “Let’s go sit down.”

  In silence, he led me back to where we had been drinking lassis, and we took a different table. He pulled out a chair for me in the corner of the patio and sat across from me so no one could come near the table or me. Placing my bag back on the table, I pulled out my camera, praying that it didn’t get damaged.

  “Is it alright? I think there’s a camera shop in the next town over if it isn’t.”

  I could barely hold it as I flicked the power button. Relief pulsed through me, and a real smile spread across my face as I nodded. It worked.

  “My sister gave it to me.” I blurted out. I met his eyes, and for someone reason felt the need to explain, “She’s dead.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He leaned forward in his chair.

  “Thanks.” I dropped my eyes back to the camera, cradling it like a newborn kitten. And a story I hadn’t told anyone in years tumbled from my lips. “We had this plan. We’d travel the world together, have grand adventures, and blog about it. We were supposed to do it when I graduated university.” Her face flashed in my mind, and I smiled as memories of her came flooding back. “She was always doing something amazing with her life and letting me tag along. I was so lucky. People have these high-flying older siblings and resent them, but I never lived in her shadow, she always wanted me to bask in her glory at her
side.”

  He rested his face in his hand. “She sounds like she was an amazing person.”

  I nodded and swallowed back the knot in my throat. “She was. She always encouraged me to do whatever I dreamed of. That’s why she got me this camera. It’s why I’m here now.”

  “Do you mind me asking what happened to her?”

  I shook my head. It always upset me to think about what happened to her, but I wanted to tell him. I remembered it as if it happened yesterday. I had just finished my last exam before the Christmas break in my final year, some bullshit elective, and was at my parents’ house helping them with dinner.

  “She was in La Paz, Bolivia, it was her first time leaving North America, and she went to volunteer for Habitat for Humanity with her new boyfriend. The night before they were supposed to fly home, some men broke into their hotel, robbed the place, and shot them when they put up a fight. She died instantly, and he took a bullet to the spine and will spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Just like that. All for some Bolivianos and their passports.”

  The police caught the guys a week later when they held up another hotel in the city. Thankfully they’re locked up for a long time, but since then I felt like there was no way to control the world around me, and I took comfort in control.

  “That’s awful.” His unblinking eyes fixated on me. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through. What you still go through. You’re so brave to come here.”

  “You think?” I paused to collect my words and said the ones I was never able to express. “I feel like being here is flaunting her death.”

  “You’re honoring her life by being here. It sounds like she’d want you to be here, going after your dreams, putting her gift, and yours, to good use.”

  “It’s not just that,” I said, pressing my face into my hands as I pushed through the guilt, “my parents are at home sick with worry that I won’t come home like her.”