Running away is….running away is nice because you leave it all behind. You leave all the troubles behind the door. They can't get you. They can't catch you. Running away solves it all.
Joey's question about paying rent brought up disturbing thoughts and fears in Craig, fears of not really belonging, fears of not having a family, not being part of things. Rent. He stared at him, his mouth moving but no words coming. The old almost stutter coming back.
"W-would you ask Angie that?" he said, and Joey looked puzzled.
"She's eight years old," he said.
"That's not the only reason," he said, and left. He sank into running away, going, not looking back. If he didn't belong he wouldn't stay.
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Running away is movement. Action. Taking control when there is no control. Craig packed the bag as his father slammed the golf club into his bedroom door. Running away could keep you safe.
Out on the roof of the porch and to the ground, he ran and didn't look back. He was going to meet Sean at the train tracks, and then he'd go anywhere he wanted to. Vancouver. British Columbia. Nova Scotia. Anywhere but here.
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Running away is avoiding. Leaving. Pushing into the past the fights, the recriminations, the fault and the blame. Running away is an elixir.
Craig walked the streets of Toronto, slick and wet with the rain. Rain curled his hair and he felt it frizzing and curling up. This was the year he'd been trying to flatten it with gels and hairdryers. The rain cut through that and the curls twisted each strand.
He heard the odd rhythm less drumming, saw the kid with the scruffy beard and the scraggly hair and the layers of clothes and the line of dirt under his nails. Craig walked toward him, the weight of his guitar on his back.
He swung the guitar around and started playing, accompanying the lousy drumming and elevating it to something nearing music. Blank faced office workers walked by and dropped coins and dollars into the drum case, and the scruffy kid smiled at him.
Waking up stiff and cold and feeling the film of dirt that had settled on his skin, Craig sat up and longed for his bed. But he couldn't go back. He'd ruined everything, again, and this was where he belonged.