“Yes, I’m here to help you. I won’t hurt you, I promise. We can be friends, yeah, buddy?” she asked softly.
She wasn’t a man. She didn’t look horrible. I couldn’t see any pictures on her skin and she didn’t smell like the men.
I shuffled across the floor and out from under the bed. Another woman was standing there and I flinched away as she moved closer.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m giving you this blanket to keep you warm.” She smiled encouragingly, and I took the blanket, not wanting her to touch me.
The other woman bent down and looked me in the eye. I clutched Bunny tighter to me.
“How about that cookie?”
I nodded, climbing onto my bed. She reached into her purse and pulled out a red shiny packet. She opened it and pulled out a round, light brown circle with dark spots on. I took it from her tentatively, still scared of her. My eyes were flicking between the two women in front of me, being nicer to me than anyone ever had before.
“Try it,” the first woman coaxed. “Just a little bite?”
I brought it to my mouth and nibbled at a dark spot. The sweet flavor exploded in my mouth and I gasped, biting into the cookie. My stomach rumbled as the crumbs flooded my mouth. I’d never tasted anything like it. It was the best thing ever.
“My God,” the second woman breathed. “The neighbors were right. The system has failed this kid. He’s never even eaten a cookie at six years old.”
The first woman looked at me. “Is this the first time you’ve had a cookie, Aston?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I like it. It’s yummy.”
“How about another one?”
I nodded, staring into the face of the woman who was my childhood savior.
“Just, not today.” I repeat, breathing deeply as I let the memory go. Thirteen years, and the main marker I have of this day is the first cookie I ever ate. “I need to go. I have to go see my Gramps.”
Megan looks at me worriedly, sadness in her eyes, and I cross the room to her. I cup her face in my hands, rest my forehead against hers, and exhale.
“It’s not you, Megs. There’s a lot about me you don’t know – a lot I don’t want you to know. It’s not nice stuff, it’s not good, okay? Today isn’t a day to talk about it. Maybe there won’t ever be a day. I don’t know.”
“I want to know,” she whispers, resting her hands on my arms.
“I don’t want you to know.” I kiss her and quickly move away. I push open her window, make sure it’s clear, and jump out onto the tree branch.
“Then whenever you’re ready,” she whispers. “I’ll be here. Waiting.”
I glance over my shoulder, and she’s watching me go. I make eye contact with her for a second. Set on seeing Gramps, I jump down the tree.
~
“Didn’t think I’d see you today.” Gramps’ voice grumbles through the house.
“It’s Sunday,” I reply simply, crossing the front room and sinking into my usual seat opposite him.
“Ain’t just any Sunday.” He twists his lit cigar between his weathered fingers, staring at the smoke rising from it.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna see you.” I watch the twirling smoke.
“Thought you didn’t wanna know today.”
“I don’t, but I’m still gonna come see you. You need me.”
“I need to look at your face and know you look exactly like her?” He puffs on his cigar, the end of it glowing bright orange. “You do, you know. You look exactly like her.”
“I …” I drag my eyes to his and see the pain there. “I know.”
“You’re smart, too. Just like she was. I could tell that when I started teachin’ ya. Picked up your numbers like Einstein. Of course, she was good with numbers in a different way.”
The numbers of the street.
“I hate that so much of me reminds you of her.”
“Why? ‘Cause you hate the memories? Your memories and mine, they’re different, boy. If you’d let me share mine you’d see a different side to your mom than the one you know. You’d see that she ain’t all bad. She just jumped on the wrong train and couldn’t get back off.”
“And that’s what she turned our life into. A damn train wreck. Everything …”
“And today is a day to remember it, however you want to.”
“You think I don’t, Gramps? You think I’m not haunted by the memories of the past every day? You think I don’t remember? I don’t want to remember it. Not at all. But I do.”
“It’s good to remember,” he pushes on, twisting his cigar in the ashtray. “You gotta remember where you’ve been to see how far you’ve come.”
Chapter Eleven - Megan
“Come on!” Kay begs. “It’s Sunday. Who the f**k does school work on a Sunday?”
“I do,” I tell her. “It has to be in tomorrow, so I have to do it.”
“Didn’t you stay in last night to do this?” She raises her eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“So why didn’t you do it?”
Because I was busy with my sort-of-almost-boyfriend. “Because I fell asleep early.”
“You never go to sleep early.”
“Oh my God! What is this? Interrogate Megan time?” I slam my pen down and look up at her. “Do you want me to tell you my turn-on spot while you’re here? Shit, Kay!”
She snorts. “No offense, babe, but I’m not really into you like that, so we’ll pass on the turn-on spot. But why were you asleep early?”
“Gee, I don’t know, Kay. Why do people usually go to sleep? Could it be because they’re tired?” I sigh.
“Shit the bed, someone is expecting Mother Nature!”
“Not for two to three weeks.”
“Then you must be pregnant … Oh wait–”
“Kay? Go f**k yourself.”
“I’m going,” she mutters, pulling the door open. “Try not to get your panties too twisted, my little hormonal bag of joy!”
I throw my pen across the room, hitting the shut door. I stare at it blankly for a second, then shake my head. I’m actually trying to write the essay – trying being the main word in that sentence.
I’m trying and failing because my mind is stuck on Aston and the way he acted last night. And this morning.