The Anarchist's Heart

I was just putting our paper plates, napkins, and plastic utensils in the trash after our “first day in a new home” meal of takeout Chinese food. My belly was full, the outside world was dark, and I actually kind of felt at home in the new place. Sure, I still had to get more pictures and paintings put up on the walls and find “my area” in order to get really, really comfortable, but for the moment I was surprisingly content. I figured part of that had to be because Charming was already so familiar to me.

“So who was that guy you were talking to at the auto-repair shop?” Alexander asked from the living room as I walked back to him.

I grabbed my wine glass from the coffee table before sitting down beside Alex on the couch and taking a heavy sip of the red liquid. I almost wanted to tell him to not go there, but then I remembered: what did I have to hide from him? Jax was going to stay away from me. And besides, Alex didn’t need to know how deep my history went with Jax. It’s not like any of it mattered anymore anyways.

“He was my best friend in school,” I replied. “His mom and step-dad own the repair shop. I guess that’s why he never left Charming.”

That was a lie; I knew he never left because of the motorcycle club. But again, the gang activity was another thing Alex didn’t really need to know just yet. He wasn’t about to find out about it from me, that was for sure.

“Mm, I see,” he said, putting his arm over my shoulders and swirling his wine. “That’ll be nice, huh? You’ll get to see tons of people from your childhood now that you’re back here.”

“Uh, if that’s what you wanna call it,” I shrugged.

“You said he was your best friend. Weren’t you happy to see him again?”

“I guess,” I replied, not looking him in the eye. “I’m happy he’s happy, that’s all. We kind of grew apart anyways.”

“Probably because you stopped talking to him, am I right?” Alex asked with a smirk.

“What makes you say that?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

“Well it’s no secret you’re kind of shit at keeping in touch with people, love,” He chuckled. “I just figured he was another one of those people.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Alex had to remind me to phone my own parents most of the time, for crying out loud. I just didn’t like to wander in and out of people’s lives like that; like I was some sort of distant relative that sent Christmas cards to them every year but they’d never met. I always just figured if I was gone, that was it. I’d leave them alone. If they wanted me back in their life, they’d let me know. With Jax it was different of course; I’d told him to stay away from me more or less. He’d just been obeying.

“Maybe,” I finally replied with a sigh. “Can we talk about something else, please? I’m already living in my past, I don’t want to have to discuss it when I can just look out the window and stare it in the eye.”

He smiled and kissed my temple. “Alright. We can talk about how I’ll be gone all next weekend for that convention in Vegas. Are you going to be able to handle getting used to a new home all by yourself?”

“I think I can manage,” I smiled at him, cupping his face in my hand softly. “I’ll miss you, though.”

His hazel eyes sparkled at me. I might not love him as wildly as I had loved Jax, but I loved him in a more mature, simplistic way. We had a mutual understanding of one another; we knew each other’s tells for the most part, we were in tune with one another’s reactions to things. If I was scared or anxious he’d sense it without me saying a word and pull me close. If he was stressed I’d just massage his shoulders for a bit and we wouldn’t talk. He made it easy to behave that way around him. I ran my fingers through his short black hair and my thumb traced his jaw, where stubble was starting to take over. I’d been with him for three years and I’d grown so used to him. Jax wasn’t my safety; Alex was.

“I’ll miss you too, baby,” he said. “It’s only three days, though. And then I’ll come home to our town, and our house, and to you. I always do, don’t I?”

“Yes, you do,” I smiled, brushing my lips against his.

We sat there and finished our wine, taking in the gentle settling sounds of our new home and getting used to them. It really was a beautiful house; maybe it was just the wine and Alex continuously playing with my hair, but I had a much more optimistic view about everything. I was feeling content in my new house, and I was feeling okay about being in Charming again. If you got past the trafficking of illegal objects and substances and the malicious “motorcycle club”, it really was a sweet little town with relatively gentle people. A part of me was glad to get back to my roots.

Going to bed that night was surprisingly easy. Normally I have troubles if there’s something on my mind, and in my situation of course I had so many thoughts I could’ve alphabetically ordered them into a filing cabinet. However, I felt confident that Jax would stay away from me. He’d promised, and he’d always kept his promises with me. I’d seen it in his eyes when he’d recognized me at the shop: all his feelings for me had come rushing back to the forefront of his mind. He’d looked happy, confused, and sad all at the same time. It had hurt me telling him to stay away for the second time. I hadn’t anticipated having to do that after the first time. But I could tell he’d understood, at least to some degree, and with Jax that meant something. I still trusted him. I’d never hated him, anyway. I guess I’d just given up on him.



Alex had left for a convention in Las Vegas at nine in the morning. He was picked to speak on a panel about something orthodontist related; honestly, I hadn’t paid that much attention when he’d explained it all. I caught the gist of it, at least. He was pretty excited about it. He was a little hesitant about leaving me alone in a new house for a weekend, though. He knew I could get uncomfortable in unfamiliar areas. But I’d consoled him, telling him that Charming had already been my home once. I’d be fine. And until ten that night, I had been fine.

When ten o’clock came around, I was sitting in the front room, listening to The Cure over the speakers, and going through my lesson plans for my first year teaching at Charming High School. I was in my pyjama bottoms and a loose Rolling Stones tank top, with my hair up and glasses on. I had a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of me and it was making me sleepy. I was just about to pack it in and continue what I’d been doing in the morning when there was a horrible noise right outside my house. I jumped up at the noise and gasped, afraid. First there was a loud, rumbling engine that suddenly cut off and was followed by what sounded like metal scraping harshly along the pavement, and I went ice cold at the possibility that someone just got into an accident outside my home. I knew First-Aid and CPR and all that, but it was ten o’clock and I was in my pyjamas! I was in no position to save someone’s life; I could barely remind myself to breathe, I was so panicked!

Eventually my legs thawed and I kicked into high gear. I ignored shoes and ran out my front door onto the lawn. I could see a form in the middle of the street. It started to move and groan. It was laying face-down and it kept trying to get up but it only fell back down again. My eyes travelled a few feet behind the figure and fell upon a shadowed Harley-Davidson bike, lying on its side just to the side of the road. I let out a shaky breath.

Despite my bad feelings, I ran out into the street and kneeled down next to the figure. My fingers gently ran over the reaper sewn onto the back of his leather cut; and I recognized the mass of blonde hair peeking out from under his helmet. I almost wanted to run back into my home, but I knew I couldn’t do that, not to him. Not to Jax.