I ran a hand through my hair.
“She likes to travel. We’re headed for California.” I always wondered how long before that actually happened. It had been the goal for years. But something always came along to foil our plans.
“Do you like to travel?” he asked.
“I’m used to it. It’s what we do.” I shrugged, staring at my dirty feet, wishing the night would come to a quick end so we could be on our way.
“You seem sad.”
I always looked sad—it was the norm for me anymore.
“No, just tired. I was really hoping to get some sleep, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”
“I live next door, come on,” he said, heading across the grass. I followed reluctantly. What to do? It was a toss-up really. What would be worse, being next door to a drunk drug dealer or with a stranger that could be just as crazy?
“You can sleep on the couch. I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets.” He headed out of the living room. It was a lot neater in his home compared to what I’d just left behind.
I followed him down the hallway, coming to a stop behind him as he pulled a blanket from his closet.
“Whoa! You scared me. Are you ok?” He raised an eyebrow, running a hand down the back of his neck.
“I don’t care if you’re expecting a favor,” I told him, waiting for him to touch me.
“What? Oh no. Honestly, I just want you to be able to sleep. I’m not like that. I have a girlfriend.” He hurried past me.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. At least now I knew he wasn’t going to try anything.
I climbed onto his couch, my body thankful for the comfort, and the paranoia and fear melted away. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and drew my knees to my stomach.
“Goodnight,” he said, turning off the lamp.
The room fell silent. I fell asleep, hoping tomorrow would be better.
JUNE 8
TH
IT WAS MORNING. The sun was high.
I sat in the grass behind our car peeling apart a long twig and waiting on Aunt Wanda. I hoped she would get up soon so we could go.
My stomach growled…loudly. So loud I could hear it every time. There was no way I would go back inside that house after everything that happened. I’d give Aunt Wanda ten more minutes and then I was going to walk down the street to the gas station. It’d be a long, uncomfortable walk without shoes.
The guy from last night came out of his house, his front door screeching and then falling back with a soft thud. I watched him stretch. He raised his arms above his head as he looked around, taking in the day.
I dropped the stick as soon as I realized he was coming over.
“Good morning! You’re still here.” He rested his hand on our rusty car.
“Morning,” I said back. I stood, feeling a bit odd sitting on the ground while he talked to me. I was sure he pitied me enough already.
“Have you eaten?” he asked. He tilted his head, his eyebrows lifting just the slightest as he waited for a reply.
“I’m waiting on Wanda,” I told him. I ran my hands against my shorts brushing the grass and dirt away. I realized he was cute, a natural blond with a beautiful mouth and perfectly simple features. I liked the way his eyes were warm and looked full of life. I didn’t see that very much.
“What did you say your name was?” he asked, leaning against the car. He crossed his arms and batted at the grass with his foot.
“Kendall. You didn’t say what yours was either.”
“Ryan Bridger. I’ve lived here my entire life. I work construction. Can’t say that I’m the best of friends with Jon and his boys, but sometimes I get bored,” he said, offering more information than I needed.
“Nice to meet you, Ryan.” I smiled a little as I met up with his eyes. He smiled back.
“Are you hungry? I can fix breakfast. I hate to see you out here hungry,” he said, “because I think we both know Wanda ain’t coming out of that house anytime soon.”
I nodded in agreement. We walked to his house and went inside.
Ryan headed for the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards for pots and pans. It was obvious he didn’t do much cooking. I was starting to wonder if he even had a girlfriend.
He cleared the newspapers off the kitchen table and hurried to toss his jacket from the chair. “Have a seat,” he said.
He started cracking eggs in a bowl, looking up every couple seconds to make sure I was still with him.
“Where are you from?”
I thought about his question, debating on whether to tell the truth or a lie. Lies were easier and left no trail to be followed. Sometimes when I felt someone deserved the truth, I’d give up a few details about myself.
“South Carolina,” I answered.
He nodded, not knowing if that was the truth or a lie.
“How did you end up with your aunt? Where’s your folks?” he pressed.
“Um, just one of those things that happened. My mom’s dead. And I don’t know my father. I mean… I know his name, but never met him,” I said.
The last I knew, my mom was alive and well, probably lying with some man as I sat in this man’s kitchen.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“My mom has another daughter. But she was taken away from her. Years before I was born,” I said.
And that was true. Little miss Joy-Ann had gotten herself knocked up by the principal of her high school. She was a freshman and he found any and every reason to see her in his office. Eventually, Mom did what she always did and slept with him. She never imagined that she would end up pregnant. Being barely fifteen with a kid wasn’t going to work out too well for her. She had no parents to help support the kid. And the principal wanted nothing to do with her. So my sister, Coral, was taken away from her and the principal found a way to get her suspended from school.
Mom always said she never broke into the school and that she didn’t steal from the school either. But coming from her, I didn’t believe her one way or another. I just knew that Coral was saved all because of it.
Ryan carried the two plates to the table. He set down two forks. He did his best to dish out scrambled eggs. I wasn’t going to complain about the food—I hadn’t eaten since the morning before.
We ate and chatted. It grew quiet after a time—I was never good at making conversation.
I finally stood up, dreading the idea that I had to go back outside and wait for Wanda. “Do you mind if I hang out until Wanda is ready to leave?”
He looked relieved. “Of course. You can watch TV, take a nap, whatever. I don’t mind at all.”
“What are some of your favorite shows?” he asked, flipping through the channels.
“I’ve always liked actions movies. And old school gore.” I smiled.
He nodded, biting down on his lip as he looked at me. I knew what it meant—he was attracted to me. I moved closer, my hands pressing into the couch cushion on either side of his legs. He acted a bit shocked.
“I’m not that kind of guy,” he said, but his kiss said otherwise.
“I don’t care what kind of guy you are. You know nothing about me or who I am,” I told him. I guided his hands to my chest, holding them there so he could feel my heart pounding.
In an instant, his hands attacked me, his fingers glided down my ribcage. I pulled my shirt over my head. He tossed it on the floor. I was enjoying this a whole lot more than I thought I would.
I leaned back against the couch, and helped him out of his jeans. He was in a hurry, and I wondered how often he had sex. He seemed a bit too eager.
I ran my fingers through his hair. He was a good kisser, but I broke away—kissing made it way too personal. Nice guys like him kissed nice girls—I wasn’t a nice girl.