Preached By My Neighbor (LGBT/18+)

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Dexter Evans

So the house is a complete mess – vases are broken as well as the plates, teacups, and even the family portraits that we had. There's a picture of my son on the floor, its glass protecting it already broken, shattered into a million pieces. I pick it up, and feel the stab of pain when the tip of the broken glass grazes the skin, the tip of my index finger.

"f**k," I mutter under my breath, clenching my fist.

The pain of the wound in my tip of my index finger is nothing compare to the pain I feel in my heart. Without Wes, I don't even know how I'm breathing – all I know is that I'm holding on to my hope that I'll eventually find him. The pain intensifies, both in my heart and the wound in my fingertip, and tears well up in my eyes. I don't know how I'd be able to find him. I have no idea where he has gone, and I don't know where to start. I hope he's doing okay and that he's taking care of himself.

Standing up, I put the picture on the sofa, who's pushed back near the front door of the house. I brush the tears away with the back of my hand and get outside – I just need time to think and inhale fresh air to clear up my head. Then I'm going to figure out where to start.

I'm going to find you, Wes. I will. I will find you.

"It's not going to end this way," I assure myself. "We're not over Wes. We're never going to be over."

I sit on the front porch, looking at a distance; the negative thoughts inside my head vanish as I think of Wes being happy with me again. I completely see myself with him in the future. I see myself being happy with him, being complete, and I feel like I'm the happiest man alive when I'm with him. When I'm with him, I feel so happy I could die. I wouldn't trade anything for that. I smile to myself, remembering Wes grinning face. Sometimes he looks like a child, and I think it's adorable. He's adorable and the only Wes in my life. He will never be replaced here in my heart.

The night has come; I look up in the sky through the window of my bedroom and wish that I'd find Wes as soon as possible. It seems like a silly thing to do, but I would do anything just to find him.

The morning rises, and all I can think of is Wes. Has Wes eaten already? What is he doing right now? Is he fine? Is someone else with him? Is he happy where he is right now? Is he happy that he left me? Is he sad? Is he alone? Questions keep running inside my head, and my head hurts just by thinking about those.

Feeling empty inside, I get out of the bed and do my morning routine; my head is filled with the images of Wes – his smile, his teeth, his face, his sad smile, his frown, his lips, then his body, his arms, his soft fingers, his smooth skin, then his legs; I just miss him so much I feel like I'm dying. When I take a look in the mirror in the bathroom, I look like a mess – my hair is sticking up in every direction, there are black bags under my eyes, and my eyes are a bit reddish. I guess I cried myself to sleep.

After doing my morning routine, I head downstairs to prepare myself a breakfast. The house is still a mess – after going outside and stayed for a couple of hours to clear my head, I got lazy and never bothered to clean the house. Now when I look at it, I still feel... well, lazy. Wearing flip-flops, I head to the kitchen and decide I'll make a scrambled eggs and fry several strips of bacon. I make my breakfast, I eat, then head outside without bothering to wash the dishes, where I see the original owner of the house Wes lived in; the woman is inspecting the house.

Walking up to her, I greet her, "Hi, good morning... Mrs..."

"Ms. Barks," she corrects me, smiling brightly. "And good morning, too, Dex." I'm surprised she knows me. "How may I help you? Surely you have a purpose." Wow, straightforward, that she is.

"I would just like to ask if you know where... Wes has gone? He just left without any reasons," I tell her, leaning down, waiting for her answer.

Ms. Barks puts the tip of her index finger underneath her chin and her eyes roll upwards, as if the answer is in the sky. "Wes hasn't really given me a reason why he left – he just informed me through text. He told me that I could take the house back, and that he wasn't going to be living there, in that house, anymore. He mentioned to me that he's going to..." She thinks again. My hands turn into a fist. Say it, say it, say it. I want to scream at her, demand at her to think, to remember where Wes has gone. Ms. Barks pulls out her phone; I can see her opening her Message application and scrolling upwards to look for the message. "Ah, found it. He said that he's going to live in Brooklyn, New York. Found an apartment there, I guess. I can't blame him. Brooklyn is good. Beautiful."

Wes has gone to Brooklyn to live there. Thank God! "Do you, like, have any idea where exactly in Brooklyn?"

"Nope. He didn't really give that information. But I think I could ask him. Wait, let me just text him."

"Please don't mention me to him. Just ask where he lives, and, and..."

She narrows her eyes at me suspiciously, her long arms crossing across her chest. "Why?"

I open my mouth, then shut it close again. I smile sadly. "I love him, and I'd do anything to find him."

Her mouth hangs open, and she looks at me with wide eyes. "Really? Seriously?" I nod. She rapidly taps her fingers on the screen of her phone.

My heart has been filled with another hope, this time a huge one and I feel my stomach unclench. The pain in my heart lessens and I thank God for deciding to give this woman a life. I grin up at him; Ms. Barks look at me incredulously, as if I've grown another head. Her phone dings. My heart thuds louder, pounding now against my chest.

"He sent me... oh, 125 Gold Street, Brooklyn, New York. He asked me why. What should I reply?"

"Tell him you're interested in buying a house in Brooklyn!"

"Okay!" Ms. Barks immediately sends a text message to Wes.

I have written the address Ms. Barks has told me; my cheeks hurt from grinning. I immediately head inside my house, decide to pack up a few things and withdraw enough money, and give my son a quick text about me and his mom fighting and her leaving and that we're broken up and now that I'm on my way to Brooklyn, New York to search for the love of my life. Carter responds after a few seconds; he's asking me whether I'm joking or not and I respond no, that I'm serious. I tell him also that I'm really in love with a guy, and that his name is Wes, and that I'd do anything for him and now that man is running away from me because he thinks that he's not good enough for me or that we're never right.

Getting another response from Carter, I ignore the text message and get a few pairs of clothes, pants, toothbrush, toothpaste; I pack it all inside a big back pack that my wife had given me for my birthday last year.

While I'm packing up, I can't help but feel the joy that is coursing through my veins; I feel light and happy and calm and at ease. I'm excited to see him again, to feel his touch, to see his smile. I want to hug him tight, give him that kind of hug where he'd feel the love I have for him, how strong the love I have for him, and I want to give him a kiss on the lips, where he'd realize how wrong he is to leave me, where he'd realize that he can't breathe right without me, where he'd realize that I'm the primary source of his oxygen. I want to cradle him in my arms, to throw kisses all over his face, to feel his skin burning against mine. It would be so much better.

Once I'm done packing my stuff, I run, faster that I've ever done in my whole life. Then as I climb into my car, I feel the hope inside me again, starting to blaze and I can't help but think how lucky I am.