Читать книгу One Week In November - Sarah Everest - Страница 3

"Hey, AJ!" Something waved back and forth in front of my eyes. I blinked rapidly and tried to focus on the shape, slowly realizing it was a hand. I turned, and saw Kaden bouncing from one foot to the other beside me. I had no idea how long he had been there, but by the semi exasperated, semi amused look on his face I knew it had been a while.

"Hi Kaden," I mumbled. I knew he would start asking me questions, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to answer them. If I was fuzzy enough in my answers he might think I was having my lady days and give me some space.

"What's with you?" he asked, pushing the hood of my jacket up over my head. I shook it off, and tried to smooth my hair back down. I've never been much for hair styling. My hair has some natural wave, so I generally let it be, but it tends to get frizzy, which drives me crazy. Kaden was talking again, and I tried to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. "You were in such a daze yesterday I didn't even try talking to you, but two days in a row is a bit much, don't you think?"

I wasn't sure if he wanted an answer or not, so I just looked at him dully. He wasn't getting the picture. "Seriously, AJ, I need you to snap out of this. You do remember that our paper is due on Friday? I thought I was coming over to your place yesterday, but you acted like you didn't even see me. I worked on it alone, but I really need your help to finish it."

"Oh," I had forgotten the project. The moment Aunt Stacey said we were going to visit my mother everything else had faded out. "I'm sorry Kade. I literally forgot. And tonight I have to work." I bit my right index fingernail nervously. When I was a kid I was a horrible nail biter, and in moments of stress and confusion the habit sometimes resurfaces.

Kaden started breathing quickly. He's a great guy, really he is, but sometimes he can be a bit on the dramatic side. If I wasn't feeling so blah I would have suggested he join drama club and take it out on them, but I genuinely felt bad about the situation. "Look," I said taking his hands in mine, both to calm him down and prevent myself from destroying my nails, "just give me what you have and I'll work on the rest myself tonight."

"Friday," Kaden focused his light brown eyes on mine. "That's tomorrow, AJ. If we don't get this done we're risking our first quarter grade. I can't afford that this year. If I slack off now..."

"Come on, you know when I put my mind to it, I'm good for the A. Besides, Ms. Carter likes me. I'll just finish it up after work, and we can meet up in the morning before class to go over things for the presentation. I'm sure your work is stellar, and we did talk about all the elements last week." I could see him mulling it over. I watched him biting his full bottom lip and pulling his eyebrows together in consternation. There is no doubt that he is handsome, but I could never tell him that. I felt my cheeks getting warm at the thought and let go of his hands, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Is everything okay, AJ? I mean not just about the project. You don't seem yourself."

I looked down at my chipping nail polish, letting my blonde hair fall down around my cheeks to be certain he couldn't see the pink tinge I was pretty sure was there. "It's nothing, really," I muttered. "Do you have the project? I'll take it now. Maybe things will be slow at the bakery and I can work on it there, too."

"Hey," he brightened, which made me nervous for some reason I couldn't explain to myself. "Why don't I come by the bakery? Then we can go over things before you go home."

I did not want him to stop by my work. He had been there several times before, and I knew none of my coworkers would care if he sat at one of the tables and we checked things over when there was down time, but it never felt right when he was there. Not to mention that, I was pretty sure Allie would be working, and I did not like the way she eyed him and got all flirty. "I guess," I said, hoping he would read the hesitance in my voice and change his mind.

"Great." The bell rang, informing us that class would start in five minutes. Kaden gave me a quick hug. "You're the best, AJ." He grinned at me, revealing the dimples in his cheeks.

"Oh stop, you're making me blush," I pushed him away, and he laughed. Other students were rushing past us now, and I let myself get carried away in the crowd. As I lost sight of him I almost wished I'd told him what was really going on in my life, but there were too many layers I would have to explain, and I wasn't ready to share it, even with my best friend.

The whole school day felt like I was going the wrong direction on an escalator. No matter what I tried to do, I found myself disoriented. Kaden sat with me at lunch, but he thankfully kept quiet. I ate without registering what I was putting into my mouth. I wondered what my younger self would have said about my mindless eating. No doubt she would have pointed out every part of my body where extra fat had begun to pool. I had not regained my chubby cherubic cheeks, but I could no longer fit into the size 1 jeans that had once made me so proud.

"What time do you start at the bakery?" Kaden ventured to ask as our lunch period came to an end. "I have to run a few errands for my dad before I come over."

"I start at four thirty," I said, accepting the fact that he was going to show up there. "I'll be around until 8, so there's no reason for you to rush."

"Sounds good," he nodded. He almost hugged me again, but the bell rang, rescuing me from another blast of confused emotions. Whatever was happening with my mother had everything in me out of whack.

As soon as school was over I hurried home. It was a challenge to go there and then to the bakery before my shift started, but in the back of my mind, mixed somewhere between worry about the project I had to do, and confusion about the coming weekend, I had been trying to figure out some way to help the homeless man stay warm on these colder days. I'd given him extras from the bakery a few times, but it wasn't much. I wanted to do something that would make a difference, something that would make me feel like I was part of a bigger purpose.

Aunt Stacey wouldn't be home until 6, so I knew I didn't have to worry about her asking any questions. She's a generous person, and I knew she would approve of me doing good for others, but I didn't know how I could explain why I felt compelled to help the man. I had enough trouble understanding it myself.

The thing was, he just didn't seem like the type of guy who typically ends up homeless. On the corner by the bakery, there are an assortment of vagrants who take turns looking for handouts. We always give them big slices of bread when they come in, and if they come at the right time, we pass them the day old loaves when the fresh ones are ready to be sold. When I take my breaks I usually sit at a small metal table in front of the store. I abhor smoking because of my mother, but sitting out there on cold afternoons gives me the urge to take up the habit, just to have something to do besides staring at the homeless guys.

I must admit, I find them fascinating in their own ways. I have created categories for them. For instance, there are the drunks, the physically handicapped, the young people - not much older than myself - who travel in groups of two with tattered clothes, dreaded hair, and occasionally a dog or two, and the mumblers. It's the mumblers that make me the most nervous. Their vacant stares and muttered words that don't fit together with any sort of sense, make my skin crawl. If one of them is still out when it's time to head home, I try to bum a ride with one of my coworkers. If that doesn't work, I call Aunt Stacey to come and get me.

He didn't fit into any of these categories. Sure, he held a sign asking for handouts like the rest of them, but it never looked right in this large strong hands. He was always clean shaven, with his clothes tidy, and his grey hair smoothed down. I never saw him smoking, or glassy eyed from alcohol.

Some days, when I think about who my father might be, I imagine him as one of the shabby trench coated, dreadlocked, drunks wearing gloves full of holes, and holding a sign saying: Need money for whiskey. At least I'm honest.

I don't really want to meet my father. I certainly don't admire him. Whoever he was, and whoever my mother was at that point, he should have at least stuck around long enough to find out who I was going to be. But he didn't, so I know he doesn't deserve my time, and I don't want to support him with money for drugs or alcohol. At the same time, I wouldn't want to find out some day that I let my own father starve, or freeze in the cold. So I never give them money, but if I have extra food, I'll give them that. If they won't take food, they don't deserve money.

When I got to the house I scrounged around for an old blanket that Aunt Stacey wouldn't miss. I looked at my afghan, but couldn't bring myself to give up the one connection I had to my grandparents. Even though I never met them, I've always had the feeling that if they'd been around things would have been different, better. I left my room and continued my search elsewhere.

In the garage I found a tub of old comforters Stacey kept for taking on picnics or camping trips. We hadn't done either of these things for a long time, so I knew she wouldn't notice if one of them was gone. I pulled out an old fluffy brown comforter and sniffed it to make sure it was reasonably fresh. It passed my test, so I jammed it into my bag then hurried to the kitchen and grabbed some apples and a couple cans of vegetables from the cupboard. It wasn't much, but I had no more time. As an afterthought I spotted some leftover Halloween candy sitting in a large plastic bowl painted to look like a jack-o-lantern. We'd only had a half dozen trick-or-treaters, but had been prepared for hordes. I threw a couple handfuls of mini candy bars into my bag and hurried out the door.

Thinking about the homeless man kept my mind off the impending trip to see my mother. I envisioned the first time I saw him standing on the corner by the bakery. It had been a busy day, and my break had been much needed. Spring was trying to make an entrance, and the weather was bouncing between soggy and bright. I sat on a damp metal chair, enjoying the few rays of sun breaking through the clouds, and scanned the sky for rainbows. I try to be an optimist sometimes, just to keep things interesting. I didn't see any rainbows, but I remember that a change came over the sky. It could have been a low hanging cloud passing over the sun, but whatever it was, it cast the world into an eerie shade of green. I looked around at the streets and I saw a man standing straight and tall in the midst of the misty afterglow. He was wearing a denim jacket, worn jeans, brown work boots, and holding a cardboard sign.

The thing that struck me, that comes back every time I think of him, was the look in his gray blue eyes. I saw sincerity. It was a completely foreign expression to see on the face of a pan handler. And that sincerity told me that he didn't belong there.

I arrived at the bakery, cutting my reverie short. A quick glance toward the corner revealed him standing there. I sighed, a mixture of relief and disappointment. He had been gone for several weeks in September, and I had imagined someone giving him a job, or some relative taking him in, but after the short absence, he had returned with a deeper furrow in his brow, but no other obvious change.

I didn't make eye contact or take the time to read his sign. I already knew what it said: LAID OFF, NOW HOMELESS, LOOKING FOR WORK, ANYTHING HELPS. With the tiny, "God Bless," at the end like an afterthought. I knew Aunt Stacey's church had groups who went out to help the homeless, and I wondered if he added those two words on the bottom to show thanks, or to invoke curiosity.

"Afternoon, AJ," Allie greeted me as I hurried behind the counter.

"Hi, Allie," I pulled out my work smile and glued it to my face. Maybe I should have been the one to join the drama club. "I'll be right there." I hurried to the bathroom and changed into my uniform shirt, then stashed the bag with the food and comforter in the back hallway. I took a deep breath, letting the rich aroma of yeasty bread, spices and cheese fill my lungs. If ever there was air thick enough to chew, it was here in the bakery. I felt satiated, as much as if I had eaten a full meal.

I headed to the prep station and started chopping apples to be used in the loaves for the next morning. It was easy to get lost in the methodical process. I far preferred prepping to dealing with customers. I could do it when necessary, but the urge to tell them what I really thought about their incessant need to be served was difficult to fight. In the year and a half I had been working there, I had only gone off on a customer once, and she had deserved it. After changing her order three times, then taking a bite out of her scone and insisting that it wasn't fresh enough, I told her just exactly where she could shove the offending pastry. Okay, I might have overreacted slightly, but her condescending attitude was more than I could take.

It was a quiet evening. With a couple weeks until Thanksgiving, people were cutting back in preparation for serious gluttony. When it was time for my break, I grabbed the bag I'd brought before heading outside. It was 6:30, and there was no sign of Kaden. It was already dark out, and I hoped I wasn't too late to make my delivery. I was glad Kaden hadn't made his appearance yet, because it would have been impossible to explain what I was doing to him.

"I'll be back in fifteen," I called to Allie. Her blonde ponytail bobbed up and down, indicating that she had received my message. She was busy going over order sheets for the holidays, making sure we would have enough ingredients in stock to prep for the massive Thanksgiving demand.

The temperature had dropped dramatically, making the creaking house's prediction of an up and coming frost that much more believable. I squinted in the direction of the light post on the corner. My worries that the early darkness and lower temperatures would have driven him off, proved unwarranted. He held his cardboard sign in one hand, and blew into the other. I noticed he didn't have any gloves, and made a mental note to see if I could scrounge some up before next week. Because of the trip to see my mother on Saturday, I would have to miss work, but I would have no trouble making up the hours doing holiday prep in the weeks to come.

In my hurry to get outside, I'd forgotten to put on my coat. My work t-shirt was more than sufficient inside the warm confines of the bakery, but it did little to nothing to hold back the chill that bristled in the November air. I pushed on, taking in the cold and using it to boost my mood into a stoic place. I could not afford to show emotion. The second time I saw him on the corner I had given him a granola bar on my way home from work. When I'd asked him if he would take it, he had looked at me like his heart might break. I know it sounds cliche, but the intensity in his eyes had been so grateful. It was a boring granola bar, but he had thanked me as though I had given him filet mignon. When I turned away from him I had cried the entire walk home. It's not like I was sobbing, I just had a constant flow of tears running down my cheeks the entire mile and a half walk. I'd barely managed to staunch them before going inside for dinner with Aunt Stacey. This time I let the frigid air act like ice in my veins. It would be typical for Kaden to show up right when I got back and to catch me teary eyed, and the very idea of that was unacceptable. It would mean I would have to give him the hug, and I didn't want to think about how that might effect our relationship.

The man wasn't looking in my direction. He was stamping his feet, and looking down at his backpack, as if assessing his situation. I searched my brain for something to say, but it all fell flat. Who was I to come to him with words of wisdom, or comfort, or even friendliness. I was an ignorant kid. A seventeen year old girl, with my own list of issues, and no clue where life was going to take me. As I looked at him, I didn't feel pity. I had no idea what led him to be there. What I did feel was certainty that there was something wrong with this picture. Whoever he was, whatever had transpired in his life, this street corner was not where he belonged.

"Hi," the word stuck in my throat. I think it came out more like a growl than an actual word. He looked up at me, and his features softened.

"Good evening," he greeted me with a half smile and absolute decorum. Just like the thank you he gave me when I gave him the granola bar, his words spoke of class and distinction. Nothing like the time I asked the guy in the reggae striped poncho and dreads if he would like a treat for his dog. He'd looked at me like I was from another planet, and literally shooed me away. I felt bad for his dog, but I let him be, and the next time I saw them there I gave the treat directly to the dog without bothering to ask.

I froze, bag in hand. A thousand questions circled through my mind like a cyclone. He reminded me more of a congressman or a diplomat than a homeless wayfarer. Part of me longed to ask him what could possibly have gone so wrong in his life that he ended up here. Another part of me was suddenly embarrassed by my pathetic offering. I wished I had written down what I would say before I got there.

"I, uh, I thought," my tongue tripped over the words. "Here," I held the bag out to him.

His eyes looked more gray than blue in the shallow light of the street lamp as they drifted back and forth between my eyes and the bag. "It's not much, I know, but maybe it'll help," I bit my lip to stop the flow of words that started streaming out. I stood with my arm stretched out, clutching the handles of the bag. I felt like an idiot; a pathetic excuse for a Good Samaritan. I wondered if my gift offended him.

Then I felt less pressure dangling from my hand, and realized he had taken hold of the bag. "Thank you," I heard emotion in his voice, making it low and husky. "Thank you so very much." He took the bag from me, careful not to touch me in any way.

I know I should have said, "you're welcome," and walked away. That would have been the most logical course of action. Or I could have played it coy, pulled out the bakery smile, fluttered my eyelashes shyly over my baby blue eyes, and played the cherub. I could have been his angel unaware, and that would have been the end of it. I guess I've never been good at doing the logical thing.

"You don't belong here," I said instead. My words hung in the air, crystallized by the cold. I still had a chance to turn around and leave. It might have sounded ominous rather than encouraging, but at least he would have the blanket and the food. That would have been something. Instead, I plunged further into my thoughts. "You and I both know this is not you. Why are you here?"

I stopped, and saw his features crumbling with emotion. I had pushed too far. What had been meant as an honest question had come out as an accusation instead. "That's not what I mean," I struggled to get the situation under control, but could feel myself slipping farther, rather than digging myself out of the hole. For all I knew, he might throw the bag back at me, and this would be the last time I would ever see him. Or worse, I might discover something sinister, and find myself in the hands of a hardened killer. How many times have news reports claimed that the mass murderer had been considered polite by his neighbors? But I'd opened something up inside myself that couldn't be reversed.

"I just don't understand how you ended up here. You're not like the others, you know? I'm just trying to understand how it happened. I know, I know, I just look like some kid. I mean, I just am some kid. This is pathetic. I'm sorry, I just...I hope this helps."

I spun around, suddenly in a panic, and irritated with my inability to articulate in moments of stress. My feet propelled me toward the bakery, but a single word stopped my flight. "Wait," he said. He didn't shout, his voice was barely louder than the rushing of the wind that had begun to build up around us. I turned around. I had no concept of what to expect next.

"You're right," he looked down at his nearly destroyed work boots. I waited for him to say more. I could almost hear time ticking by, signaling the end of my break.

"AJ!" Kaden called from down the street. I turned to see him picking up his pace and hurrying toward us. I had been close to something, I knew it, but now I felt it crashing down around me. The timing could not have been worse.

I looked back at the man, saw his eyes lose the vulnerability that had begun to emanate from them. I wanted desperately for him to give me more. The comforter was a small trade in comparison for what I believed was about to be revealed.

"Thank you," he said again. Kaden had reached the patch of golden light spilling out of the bakery windows, and would be beside us in seconds if I didn't make my move.

"I have to be gone this weekend," I shuffled my feet nervously. "But next week, I'll be back. Will you talk to me then?"

His nod was almost imperceptible, but it renewed my hope. I wanted to shake his hand, a silly gesture to cement his promise, but instead I spun around and scurried across the street to where Kaden was standing, staring at me. His mouth was not quite hanging open, but it might as well have been.

"Who's that guy?" he asked. "Do you know him? He looks homeless." "Never mind," I brushed off his questions. "It's freezing out here."

"Did you come out here without a jacket? Are you crazy?" He held the door open, questions spewing from his mouth.

"What is this, twenty questions?" I rolled my eyes, supplying just enough sarcasm to shut him up.

"Kaden!" I tried not to be irritated by how bubbly Allie got whenever Kaden came by to see me. She was 19, and going to the community college in town. It made no sense for her to flirt with a lowly high school boy.

"Ah, Allison, looking fabulous as ever," Kaden walked up to the counter and Allie gave a little bow to him to cover her blush.

They looked like AfroKen and Barbie, and I thought my lunch might come back and make an entrance on the scene, but I managed to keep it down. Allie was okay most of the time, friendly even, but I preferred keeping my work and private life separate, and seeing her put on the charm for Kaden was clearly infringing on my borders.

"Let me just go grab the papers so we can go over the project," I said, trying to pull everyone back to reality with me.

"What kind of slice would you like, Kade?" Allie asked as I walked behind the counter. I turned and rolled my eyes where only he could see. He winked at me, then pulled a serious face and gave Allie his undivided attention.

"Give me some of that scrumptious looking pumpkin swirl." I hurried to the back and grabbed the papers returning as quickly as possible.

Kaden took the slice from Allie, and I unfortunately noticed how she made sure their hands touched. My stomach gurgled, but I reminded myself that his friendliness would ensure her silence in regards to us doing homework during work hours. I grabbed Kaden by the arm and pulled him to the bar stools that sat in front of the window counters. I specifically chose to sit in a place where I could not see the street corner.

"So are you going to tell me what you were doing out there?" Kaden leaned in close, keeping his voice low and conspiratorial.

"He's no one, just some homeless guy," the words coming from my mouth felt like a betrayal. I was relieved that I could not see him as I spoke. "I guess Aunt Stacey has finally been rubbing off on me. I felt bad for the guy and brought him an extra blanket and some food. Good way to get rid of some of that Halloween candy we have sitting around before it ends up on my hips."

Kaden pursed his full lips, and I could see him considering pushing the subject, but he thankfully let it go. "Okay, just be careful, AJ. There are some dodgy characters out there."

"No worries, I'm pretty sure he just saw my big tough football playing thug boyfriend, so I doubt he'll want to mess with me."

"Hahaha," Kaden feigned irritation, but I could tell he loved it, too. I'm so used to him, and how soft hearted he is, but he is a big guy, and the football coach has insinuated more than once that he would love to get him out on the field. "Let's just get to work on this project."

The rest of my shift passed quickly. Allie mostly let us be, only asking me to do some cleanup as we approached closing time. I ignored the fact that she spent most of her time staring at Kaden over my shoulder. His attention was focused on the project, so all her dreamy eyed looks were irrelevant.

"Let me walk you home," Kaden insisted when 8 o'clock rolled around and it was time for us to leave. It was an unusual request, since he lived in the opposite direction, but with Allie hovering nearby, jangling her keys as she locked up, I decided not to question him.

I glanced in the direction of the light pole, but there was no one there. We didn't speak for the first block, and while part of me was relishing the silence, there was this other part that felt oddly suspicious. "So you're walking me home now? This is new."

"Don't be snarky, AJ. I'm worried about you." I was surprised by how serious he sounded.

"I'm not being snarky," I said hastily not sure if I should be offended or not. "It's just out of character. And there's no reason for you to be worried about me. I'm fine."

"You're about as fine as an ant in a rainstorm."

I tried to laugh at the ridiculousness of his comparison, but he stopped walking and took hold of my arm. "I'm serious AJ. Wednesday you walked around school like you were in an alternate universe. Today, I find you chatting it up with some old homeless dude. And don't even get me started on your little jealousy antics in the bakery."

"Jealousy?" I rolled my eyes, focusing on the least concerning item he had mentioned.

"At least something got your attention," he sighed. "What's going on with you AJ? You can talk to me, you know."

I did know. Next to Aunt Stacey, Kaden was the one person I could spend time around without being on edge. I just wasn't sure I wanted to tell him everything about what was happening with my mother. My hand raised to my mouth and I started biting my fingernails again. "See, this is exactly what I mean," he pulled my hand away. "That's the second time I've seen you attacking your poor nails today. I haven't seen you like this since you first moved here. Please, talk to me."

I debated which topic was the safest, and surprised myself by going with my upcoming Saturday plans. "I have to visit my mother on Saturday." Each word fell dully from my lips. Saying them made them more concrete and heavy than they had appeared in my mind.

Kaden's brown eyes widened. "You mean you're actually going to see your mother? Like your mother mother?"

I nodded. "It has to be done, I'm afraid."

"I can't believe you were actually not going to tell me. AJ, this is huge. Details. Must have details." We were still a mile from home, and even with my coat on the cold was intensifying. I debated whether it was better to wait until we got back to the house and then sit and talk it all out, or push forward and give it to him straight.

"If what she told me on the phone this morning is to be believed," I started walking. Kaden slipped my hand under his arm and continued close beside me, waiting for my next words. I took a deep breath, more to buy time than anything else. "She's dying."

The hug happened before I could prepare myself. I was in his arms, my face pressed up against his chest. I smelled the spiciness of his cologne, heard the movement of blood pumping from his chest out into his veins, felt his fingers in my hair. My head told me to pull away, to make some smart remark about him messing up my hair, but I have to admit, he was more skilled at the hug than I had anticipated. Almost as good as three year old me. All the fight melted out of my body, and I found my arms wrapping around him, clinging to the firmness of his sturdy frame. Unbidden, tears came. I wasn't even sure who they were for, but they felt good, which was particularly unsettling. I had no desire to turn into a weeper.

My phone started ringing. It was Aunt Stacey's ring tone. I knew better than to ignore it. Kaden loosened his grip, and I reached in my pocket for the phone, wiping my eyes surreptitiously with the sleeve of my jacket. "Hello," I was relieved that my voice didn't crack.

"Everything okay?" I could hear her concern. "It's almost nine."

"Nearly home," I pushed a little fake work smile into my voice, hoping she wouldn't call me out on it. Thankfully phones have never been the best at conveying mood accurately. "Kaden's walking me. We'll be there in five."

"Okay, see you soon," she hung up, a clear sign that my bluff had worked.

Kaden and I walked hurriedly in silence. "Do you want Stacey to give you a ride home?" I asked as we reached the foot of the porch steps. "It's really dark and cold out, and I'm sure she won't mind."

"Are you trying to say you're worried about your thug football playing boyfriend making it home safely in this neighborhood?" I was glad to hear him making light of things.

I punched him in the arm, and he winced. "No, I'm worried about my big marshmallow best friend making it home," I grinned.

"Ain't nobody every called this hot chocolate a marshmallow before, sista," he pulled out his best gangsta accent, even throwing in a head toss for added drama.

It was my turn to initiate a toned down version of the hug. "You're the best, Kaden. I mean it. Even if you are a bit pushy and overbearing sometimes."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he ruffled my hair. "And thanks for not calling me a drama queen this time."

The porch light came on, and I pulled him up the stairs before the door opened. "Sorry we're so late," I rushed to speak first. "Do you think you could give Kaden a ride home? He decided to play the gentleman tonight, and I feel bad making him walk all the way back by himself."

"Of course," Stacey was already reaching for her coat. We followed her to the garage and got into the car. One of the best things about Aunt Stacey is that she lets me take my time. She might be burning with curiosity, or even annoyed about something I've done, but she gives me the space to bring it up on my own. My mother was never like that. She couldn't seem to get the idea in her head that when I wanted her to know something, she would know it. All the prodding was useless. I would lie if I didn't want her to know. I never lied to Aunt Stacey, because she never asked for truth I wasn't ready to give.

None of us had much to say on the drive to the Westin's house, but the silence was not uncomfortable. The more I think about it, the more I realize that is why I get along so well with Stacey and Kaden. They don't feel like empty spaces need to be filled with pointless conversation. We can all laugh and talk for hours when life calls for it, but we can sit together quietly and not feel awkward, and that is a gift.

We arrived at Kaden's in less than ten minutes, a distance that would have taken him at least half an hour to walk. "Thanks, Ms. Barker," Kaden said as we pulled to the curb. "Always a pleasure to see you. See ya tomorrow, AJ."

"Night, Kaden," I called as he walked up the steps to his house. He waved at me behind his back. Stacey pulled a U-turn in the middle of the quiet street and we headed home.

"I called her," I said, staring out into the starless night. My voice bounced hollowly back to me off the cold window, even as my breath fogged up the glass.

"Good," Aunt Stacey reached over and patted my shoulder. If my mother had done that it would have been condescending, but from Stacey it felt like solidarity. "It's serious this time."

"Do you really think so?" I didn't try to hide my skepticism. It had felt more amazing than I wanted to admit being wrapped in Kaden's strong arms, accepting his offer of reassurance and friendship, letting the tears come, but he had never met my mother. He didn't know what she was capable of saying or doing to get her way.

"I do," she let out a shaky sigh, revealing how much she meant those two basic words. "You remember she had a spell before, right?"

I nodded. The memory was vague, mostly tied up in the smell of antiseptic, bleach, and old people. I had been too young to understand what was happening, so no one bothered to explain it to me at the time. I had a feeling the arguments I heard between Aunt Stacey and my mother involved a difference in opinion over how much I should be told, but in the end, what stands out most was that for two weeks I stayed in a hotel room with Aunt Stacey and got to eat pancakes for breakfast every morning in the lounge before going to sit all day in a waiting room watching cartoons.

"It was a tumor that time. I told her she should explain it to you, if not then, at least when you were old enough to understand, but she was adamant, saying you were better off not knowing anything. In her mind, she was trying to protect you. I think she's always regretted having to understand death from such an early age. She was only twelve when our parents died. I don't think she ever got over it..." her voice trailed away and the car was filled with the sound of the blinker clicking as she turned onto our street. We pulled into the driveway and I watched the garage door slowly roll open for us.

"Was she different before?" I asked as she turned off the engine. "I mean before Grandma and Grandpa died. Was she happy? Nice?"

"We were just kids," there was a pleading quality to my aunt's voice that I had never noticed before. "Just normal, everyday kids. She was three years younger than me, and could be a real pest when she wanted to, but life was good when we were young. She and Dad were especially close. She always thought the sun and moon rose at his command, you know? Like he was something more than a mere mortal. His death was unfathomable to her. I don't think she ever fully grasped the fact that he was gone."

"I have trouble imagining her as a real person." I admitted it so quietly that I couldn't be sure I said it at all. It was at the very core of my feelings about my mother, but I had never said it aloud before.

"If you ever want to hear more, I'd be happy to tell you. Any time. I'm not here to change your mind about her, but when you're ready, there are things I believe you should know."

"Thanks," I leaned over the console and gave her a hug. It was a real one, not a conversation blocker. "I'm going to bed, I had a snack at the bakery, and I need to just be alone tonight."

"No problem," she smiled at me, and I could see there were things she wanted to say, but she accepted my response and let me go into the house by myself. I was already curled up on my bed by the time I heard her come in out of the garage.