DRIVE WEST

THIRTEEN - The Disappearence of Sawyer Grey

He bowed his head almost in submission to her, like a big dog being pet by a little girl, "I feel like a owe you an apology every time we speak..."
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Soundtrack for the chapter
Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You, Frank Sinatra version
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The desperation of the crowd was evident as an avalanche of people flooded in to help or gossip. Peaches bursted in front of Apollo, holding him back like trying to contain a waterfall in a glass of water. Nobody really heard what she was saying. Sawyer knew he could fight back, but chose not to as he touched his bleeding face and nodded, thinking.

Monday covered the bottom half of her face with her hands, exasperated and unable to think properly.

After some minutes, the two were separated and everything calmed down as the guests started leaving the scene. Monday walked over to Sawyer, who had the bottom of his face covered by a big icepack wrapped in cloth, kindly provided by the catering company.

She touched his shoulder softly and thought to herself that Sawyer Grey was the kind of man whose heart you entered barefoot. His arteries were a rug that kids sat on when they visited, watched cartoons in the morning and fell asleep to the sound of.

"I am so sorry." She started.

He chuckled sourly, "It's fine. You should go talk to him." He jerked his head in the direction of Apollo, holding both hands to his waist in an authoritative pose, carelessly saying goodbye from afar to the people on their way out.

Monday sighed, "I'll be right back."

He shook his head once, "Yeah."

She slowly turned around and walked towards Apollo with one foot in front of the other in her heels, both hands swinging calmly almost like they accompanied the rhythm of her flowy dress dancing around her. As she approached him, her hands met each other in her back, her arms completely stretched; her body felt awkward but aware of the fact that she was safe.

"Hands off, huh?"

He bowed his head almost in submission to her, like a big dog being pet by a little girl, "I feel like a owe you an apology every time we speak."

She smiled and nodded, agreeing. She hesitated before adding her thoughts. "I don't... think I want you to apologize this time."

He looked up at her, his heart pounding quickly. His jaw clenched, trying to control himself, "I never know if you want to kiss me or start a fight."

She smiled nervously and rolled her eyes, neither did she.

"Look." She tried, taming her hair behind her ears, "I know you only did that because you were--"

"Crazy jealous." He interrupted.

She felt a strange thing at the pit of her stomach, like little needles poking at her gut; like ice burning inside of her.

Monday folded her arms to protect her chest from the wind and the truth, "Well, Peaches—"

"I love you."

Her eyes shot open and so did her mouth. Over her head, you could almost see the question marks floating in the air like a loney-toon.

He smiled lightly with his lips and intensely through his eyes. "I realized that I apologized to you and forgot to tell you the most obvious part." The firmness and tenacity this man had been known for left no trace: He was submissive and fearful to his core when he looked at this woman like she was his last chance at salvation. His eyes wanted to beg for something only she could offer. Still, he was calm— He allowed himself to step into truth without suffocating another.

His affair with grief had taught him that there is a truth that is bitter and a truth that is free, and the only one he wanted living in him was the kind that flew to the west when it felt too cold in search for warmth. That is, free as bird in the baby blue skies.

Peaches looked from a distance with panic in her eyes. She saw him look at Zen's face like it had a spinning black-and-white target on it, hypnotizing his soul, draining the pool that was his heart slowly. Part of her thought this girl was a witch, to have made these two men, two of the most eligible bachelors she had met as of recent times, fall into her trance like pirates to the chant of a serena.

But then— then her second thought made way: Maybe Zen didn't have a secret or a trick. Maybe she was just not good enough. Not interesting enough to captivate a man's attention for over 30 minutes... or an hour, depending on foreplay. Yes, she was pretty, but Zen was... everything. I can't compete with everything, she thought to herself, but I can compete with a ghost.

Apollo wet his lips when he looked at Monday again and clenched his jaw once more: There was a blasphemous amount of discipline needed to be around her bare shoulders. He gathered what strength he could to continue, "I know you and Sawyer have— something." She opened her mouth to say something but he intervened, "That's okay!" He touched her arm and smiled harmlessly, "You have every right. You deserve a life that is happy and full of love. Teresa taught me that." He shrugged. "But life, and the job I chose— they taught me that I could die tomorrow and if I do, I can't have this hanging around my neck. I can't have the person I would die for wondering if she's crossing my mind, this isn't Middle School anymore." He shook his head, "You know, in my dreams we'd walk out of here holding hands." He chuckled bitterly and looked around; he looked at Peaches and then at the other people leaving, before bitterly adding, "It's funny, isn't it?"

When they accidentally looked into each other's eyes at the same time, it shocked them like a jolt of thunder.

Apollo's love was like entering a warm pool after being surrounded by icy breezes.

Around them, the trees roared in a violent whirl of wind, warning that the rain was nearer than they thought. Next, a loud cry from the sky and a knock of strong light quickly igniting the dark blue.

Monday closed her eyes as her hair once again raged around her face. Apollo touched her chilled exposed arm and turned his head, looking around, "We have to go!" He asserted loudly, over the sound of the forest around them wilding. Peaches walked over to Apollo on her tip-toes, holding herself. Apollo searched again, "Where is Ezra?" he asked.

Monday turned her head and looked to the spot where he was waiting, that was now empty. Her body disarmed and froze at the same time. She looked around quickly."Ezra?" She yelled. The rain started pouring as she turned to Peaches and got close to her, "Where is he?"

She tensed her eyebrows and looked around, "I don't know... he was right there." She pointed at an empty table with her eyes half-closed from trying to look through the strong current.

Apollo got out his phone and tried calling him.

They heard a tune closeby. Monday followed the sound and crouched down, to where she raised the table cloth from a round table on the patio and found Sawyer's phone on the ground with a cracked screen, desperately vibrating.

She turned her head and looked at Apollo over her shoulder, who in return puffed his chest and decided it had been too long since his gun had been put to good use, and settled it was time to take it on a business trip, for old times' sake.

—

The three of them left in a hurry, under the raging rain. A man watched them from the distance, as he had been for the past hour. Running away from the drops of water as if it could hurt them, he was thinking. There are so many weaknesses to explore.

The smell of secrets made him sick, and the three of them lit the place with the scent like of rotting corpses. A prophecy, he hoped.