Read Online Axis of Aaron by Johnny B. Truant and Sean Platt - Free Book Online Page A

hair was red enough to border orange, and he felt sure she’d have bangs hanging over a pale forehead that would be strangely devoid of freckles. Red-blushed cheeks, bright-red lips. She’d look like a sunset at Redding Dock, where Ebon used to go to be alone, where the island’s colors always seemed brightest.  
    But she turned onto Raymond Street and vanished from sight. There was a thick clutch of vacation cottages down that way, plus a small canal with a bridge over it that, on a map, appeared to chip a piece of Aaron off into the ocean. Homes wound along the canal, along Raymond Street, and extended their boat houses and tall docks into the water. For Aaron, it was a dense area — practically a maze. If she got too far into it before he caught up, he’d lose her for sure.  
    Ebon thought again of stopping, seeing himself from above.  
    This is crazy. You’re chasing this woman. Other people are probably watching you do it too, knowing you’re unfamiliar, calling the police.  
    But Ebon didn’t stop. He didn’t want to. Something had unhinged inside, probably because of Holly. He was distraught. He could walk into the liquor store right now, drink his fill without paying, and throw up all over the place and the local law would say, Poor guy just lost a wife who was cheating on him. Found dead with her hand on her boyfriend’s throttle, she was, just like Casey Jones in the Wreck of the Old 97.  
    Ebon ran for the corner. No pacing, no speed walking. He made it at nearly a sprint.
    Go back to Aimee’s, said a sensible voice inside him. You’re delirious. You’re stressed. You held yourself together on the ride in and on your first night with Aimee (well, not with her; that never quite works out, does it?), but now you’re untethered and starting to break. You’re in shock. You can’t experience infidelity, betrayal, and violent death all in the same day without snapping. You never mourned. You never grew angry. You sat like the passive, worthless, spineless lump of shit you are, because she always cheated on you; she never stopped; she fucked Mark and that guy Charlie from her journal and probably the mailman, while you sat back and let her, never being the man she wanted or needed, never stepping up, never …  
    Ebon reached the corner, body-checking the corner of a curiosity shop called Rapunzel’s Tower more or less intentionally. He wasn’t here (on the island, and certainly not in pursuit of a beautiful red-haired woman) to think about Holly. He was here to forget. To walk the beach and rest. To stroll without worry and smell the salty air. To rekindle something that had almost been in the past, but had been broken by something (some one ) that could no longer harm him. Or perhaps to chase women he was sure he knew from somewhere, if need be.  
    The woman was ahead again once he could look down Raymond, but only for a second. Then she turned left, the red flag of her dress winking out of sight as quickly as it had appeared. The rows of houses were dim and plain in its absence. With the red gone, it was as if someone had turned down the saturation on the world’s TV.  
    Ebon ran again, still very aware of what this must look like to anyone watching.
    Now he was committed. You couldn’t chase a strange woman and not catch her — not after such a display. One way or another, he had to stop her and say something — anything — to break the tension. The people who were surely watching and about to call the police (such that Aaron had any) needed to see the dark-haired stranger catch the voluptuous redhead to prove that he merely wanted her conversation. That’s all Ebon wanted too: to reach the woman, nab her attention, and apologize. He wanted to save face by telling her that he’d thought she was someone else. Because if he quit now, he’d have to admit (to himself if to nobody else) that he might be losing his head, chasing a girl like that. He’d done too much running now to abandon