Chain Reaction 1.5: Won't Let Go

     Last night, I ran far past my campsite, hoping to lose Graham. Seeing Dad at the pub scared me, and I couldn't figure out how to explain it to Graham why I suddenly got so afraid. I also realized something: Eventually, I'll be out with Graham somewhere and someone will recognize me.
     I slowly and carefully made my way back to my campsite, Graham nowhere to be seen. When I got there, I climbed into my tent, curled up into a ball, and cried. I knew I had to tell him. Everything. But how I do find him? My phone doesn't work.


      The next morning, I get an idea, and I once again leave my campsite and walk to a store. I ask to use their phone, and I call him. He doesn't answer.
      Sim City University, I think. What did he say his last name was? Graham....Graham Turner? Thacker? Tucker? How many history professors are there at SCU? I decide to go and find out, so I go and sell a few collectibles to pay bus fare.
      When I arrive at the university quad, I bravely ask a few people where a history professor's office might be. They look at me like I'm strange, but they point me in the right direction, I hope, Jordan Hall.
      In the main lobby of the building, I see a listing of names. Some of the letters have fallen off, but there's a G. Taylor whose name looks like it was recently added. Room 116.

      "Come in!" a voice calls out after I knock. My heart thumps hard in my chest. It's Graham.
      When I walk in and see him sitting at his desk, my first thought is that he looks like he didn't sleep well.

      "How may I..." His eyes leave the computer screen in front of him mid sentence, and his mouth drops open. His eyes widen. "Brielle!" He jumps up out of his chair and walks around his desk.
      "Hey," I say in a shy, guilty voice.

      "What happened?!" he asks with justified hurt.
      "I'm sorry," I tell him quietly.
      "Are you okay? What happened? Why did you run off like that? You're sorry?"
      "I can explain," I reply, a knot forming in my stomach. I'm probably 'looking forward' to more crying in my tent tonight. He's going to hate me.
      "Just tell me why you looked like you'd seen a ghost and then ran off," he requests, and I imagine that he'd asked the 'me' in his thoughts that all night.

      I close my eyes against the hurt on his face. Being near him again, I start to lose my nerve to tell him everything. "I saw someone I didn't want to see inside the pub."
      "Didn't want to see? You were terrified. Why did you run away? You could've told me you didn't want to go in there, but you were so afraid that you ran." He pauses. "Who?"
       I tilt my head down. "I have a confession," I say very quietly.
       His voice has magically calmed down as he asks, "What is it?"

       I peep up at him. He doesn't look angrily hurt anymore. I have no idea why. Here I am telling him that I need to confess something to him, but he exudes relief, maybe that I'm here in the first place. Is he the sort to forgive easily? Would he really forgive me if I told him everything?
      I decide to phrase what I have to say in a way that an eighteen-year-old would say. "My parents don't know where I am," I tell him, not saying everything. "And last night, my dad was in the pub."
     "You were terrified because of your...father?" he asks in quiet shock. "What happened?" I get that he means what happened to make me so afraid of my dad.
     "He was abusive. He'd hit me for no reason, just because I would, like, walk into the room. He hated me. When I was a little girl, he didn't hit me, but he'd treat me like I was a lower life form. As I got older... Well, I got the feeling he wanted me to leave." It occurs to me that an eighteen year old wouldn't have to worry about the fact that she couldn't leave. She could. "So, I decided it was high time I left. I haven't seen or spoken to either of my parents since, and I really didn't want to see Dad. All of a sudden, it felt like I was back at home and had accidentally walked into a room, meaning I would bother him." I look at Graham's slack-jawed expression. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly. I panicked."
      We stand here quietly while my inner voice berates me that I still didn't tell him everything. "I just wanted you to know that I wasn't running from you," I further explain, the knot in my stomach eating me alive.
      He breathes in, and his voice takes on a comforting quiet. "Brielle, I'm so sorry you had to go through that, growing up like that." He sounds so caring that it makes me start crying. I hide my face in my hands, but he pulls my hands away and wraps his arms around me.

       "Hey, shh. It's okay now. It'll be okay," he croons in a quiet voice, and I do that embarrassing sort of hiccuping cry, feeling incredibly guilty that I didn't tell him everything. I don't want to. I really like Graham.
       "You did the right thing, Brielle," he tells me. "I'm glad you got out of that situation." He sighs. "Thank you for explaining it to me. It makes sense that you would panic and want to just run." His fingers run through my ponytail. "I couldn't figure it out." He lets out a sad chuckle. "And here I thought I'd done something wrong. And...and you're here. I've never told you where my office was, did I?"
      "No. I figured it out," I reply.
      He squeezes me tightly for a moment. "I tried to call you, but I got a message saying your number was not in service."
      "Oh." I sniff. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do when you asked for my number. That used to be my phone number, but my parents used to pay for it. Well, they don't now, and I can't afford to pay for it."
      I feel his head tilt, and I imagine that look he gets when an idea hits him. He pulls back and holds my chin in his hand.

      "Something I'm curious about, Brielle, and now, I'm actually a little concerned, having learned everything you've just told me. Sometimes, like last night, it's not as strong, but you smell like a campfire. It's definitely not a bad thing, but..."
     Oh no. I try to turn my head away from him, but he holds my chin tighter, not to the point of hurting me but merely a message like he wants me not to hide.
      "I'm...I'm." Something inside me breaks. "I'm homeless. I live at a campsite I set up myself. I haven't had a chance to get a job. I was too afraid, and I didn't know what to do."

     He lets go of my chin in shock, and I look down. "I have an older sister. I go to her when it gets bad, but I don't like her at all. She's a stuck-up snob and likes to put me down all the time." Oh, what must he think of me? Seeing myself through his eyes, I look like a hopeless case, I'll bet, something he doesn't want to associate with.

      "You live in a campsite?" he asks in disbelief. I'm so glad he doesn't yell it. "Wh-... H-..." He starts the first word of several sentences without finishing them while I stand here feeling like trash.
      Finally, I can't take him judging me anymore. "It's okay. I'll just go." My lower lip starts up trembling as I turn around.
      "Whoa!" He reaches out and grabs my arm to turn me around.
      "Graham, no. I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing with someone like you when I don't have my life in order at all. This isn't fair to you for me to burden you with all-"
      "Stop," he requests calmly.
      I don't. "When you found me at the park the other night, I wasn't looking for something in particular; I was scavenging. I dig the rocks and sell stuff I find. I fish. Sometimes, I find food people leave behind. I..." I am really pathetic! Here I thought I was doing so well all by myself, but as I tell Graham about how I've been living, I finally see what Alex and Grayson have been trying to tell me.
      I try to twist my arm out of his grasp, but he won't let go!

     "'Burden me'?" he asks incredulously.
     What I say next all comes flying out of my mouth in a rush. "You don't need to have to worry about someone like me. I'm not worth it. I don't want to do that to you. You just met me! I should've said no to everything, but I just couldn't! I really like you. I love the sound of your voice when I thought I'd never like the sound of a man's voice ever. You're so smart. You're gorgeous in a really dreamy way. You don't need someone like me dragging you down. You deserve someone better than me, and I've been fooling myself these past few days in thinking I could have anything with you, so please just let me go before-"

       He shocks me when he suddenly jerks my arm back before letting go of it and wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me into him. "Before what? Before I fall hopelessly in love with you? I'm already well on my way."
       "No," I gasp.
       His fingers reach up to stroke down the side of my face. "Last night, I let my imagination run away with me with all the reasons you might've run away from me. I know I'm ten years older than you, so I cursed at myself, thinking I'd pushed you in some way."
       Twelve years?! He's twenty-eight! I start breathing really fast.
       He keeps going, obviously not knowing my thoughts. "I worried you might've thought I was trying to trap you or something crazy like that. I couldn't figure out where or how I did something to scare you so badly. But do you have any idea how much of a relief it is to know that it wasn't me you ran from? Do you have any idea what it means to me that you put this much effort into cleverly finding me so that you could tell me some really painful stuff?" He pauses, watching me hyperventilate. "I don't think you do."

      I gasp again as he suddenly twists and pushes me downward. For a moment, I fear I'll fall, but the next moment, I realize he did all that on purpose because he kisses me hard. I have to completely depend on him to keep from landing on the floor since I can't support myself at all, but at the same time, I know he won't drop me, won't let go.
      A whimpering cry comes out of me as I think, Graham! You crazy man! This won't end well. He keeps kissing me through my cry, and tears escape my eyes. I'm on borrowed time. He's going to find out eventually. I wish I could tell him, but I just can't! He won't forgive that, and it'll break my heart. I might just break his too from what he said. I can't do it! It's already too late.
     I reach up to thread my fingers into his fantastic hair, holding him to me as I kiss him back. He holds me tighter and lets out a sigh while continuing to caress my lips with his. I want to soak up as much of this as I can. It won't last forever. I want to be able to draw upon sweet memories once that awful time arrives.