by Amie Knight
Age 11
“Sounds like a cat dying.”
I jumped about ten feet in the air. I spun and found Adrian standing on our porch, leaning on one of the white pillars, his arms crossed at his chest and his sketchbook tucked underneath. He’d been drawing more and more in that silly book lately, but he never let anyone see. I was a little bitter about it. I wanted to know what he drew in there. Because, if he wasn’t running the streets with us, he could be found furiously scribbling in that book with his brow puckered in concentration.
He was wearing his tan khakis, a green polo shirt, and black Converse shoes. As usual, he was pristine, and there I was in my old sweats and a ratty T-shirt.
“Jesus, Adrian, you scared the crap out of me and almost made me drop my violin. Get off my porch and go home. Now. I’m trying to practice.” I wondered how long he had been standing there, because I was beyond embarrassed.
The truth was I didn’t want to practice on the porch. But I’d been evicted from the house. I was on my hundredth try of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” when Momma had politely suggested that it was an unusually warm day for December and I should take my violin playing outside. And it was a nice evening out. Not too cool. Not too hot. No gigantic mosquitoes or horseflies like in the summer. But that wasn’t why I had been banished to the porch. It was because I was no good at this violin thing. But I wanted to be.
I’d been begging Momma to let me play an instrument for forever. I was a lover of all things music, and she’d finally caved. I was thinking she was regretting that now, but I wasn’t. I’d only been playing a couple of weeks, but I felt like I was getting better. My momma had somehow managed to afford this cheap violin on her small nurse’s salary, and I’d be forever grateful. I loved it. I’d never forget the day I’d opened the black case the first time. The smell was the first thing that had hit me. It had smelled earthy and pungent. I had picked the instrument lovingly up, run my hands over the smooth wood, and thought how gorgeous it was. It had been love at first sight. I wasn’t quite comfortable yet with the positioning of my violin and the bow felt awkward in my hand, but I was determined to be good at this. I wanted to be the best, but I’d settle for better right then.
“Sounds like you need a lot more practice. I really thought an animal was dying out here, Ains.” He smirked and plopped down on the porch step, setting his precious sketchbook aside. He leaned back on his hands, crossed his Converse shoes, and aimed his gaze at me.
It didn’t look like he was leaving, so I definitely wouldn’t be playing. I put my instrument back in the case and sat down next to him.
“Where’s Lori?” he asked.
“Well, she wasn’t asked to go outside before she gave everyone a headache with her violin playing, so I am guessing she is inside, doing homework, and eating cookies.”
Adrian laughed, but I wasn’t trying to be funny, so I frowned.
“Oh come on, Ains. It’s not that bad.”
I gave him a hard stare. “You said it sounded like a cat dying,” I accused him. And it had. It’d sounded bad. I frowned harder.
He smiled wide and pointed his finger at me. “Ainsley, before we know it, you will be the best dang violin player in this whole town. Probably the whole state of South Carolina.”
“Ha! Yeah, right. That’ll never happen. I’m awful. You heard it,” I said.
This whole conversation made me feel horrible. It was embarrassing enough that Lori and Momma had to witness my dreadful playing, but now, Adrian was privy to it too. This sucks.
He shoved his elbow into my side so I’d look at him. He stared back at me and said, “Because, when Ainsley Michelle James sets her mind to something, she does it. All the way. That is just how she is. She’s the hardest worker I know, and she never lets anyone down. Never. Especially her biggest fan. Any idea who that is?”
I felt myself blush at his words, but they’d felt nice. And I’d needed to hear them. My sweet boy next door almost always made me feel better. Our friendship had grown by leaps and bounds through the years. Adrian, Lori, and I spent more days than not on this porch or running around this small town together. Us three. We were still inseparable.
I was still a little embarrassed though, so I quickly changed the subject. “What you doing out here anyways?”
“Hiding. My daddy’s in an awful mood. With it being around Christmas, he has a hard time with Momma and Maggie not being around, so I try to give him plenty of space.”
I pulled my arm through one of his arms and leaned my head on his shoulder. “What was your momma like?” I asked. I’d been itching to ask this question the entire time Adrian had been living next to us, but it had never seemed like the right time.
Adrian smiled a sad smile. I felt bad for asking, but I also wanted to know the woman who had made one of the best people I knew.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Ya know, like what did she look like? What did she act like? That kind of stuff,” I said. I had been to Adrian’s house a handful of times the past couple of years, but there were no pictures of his mother or his sister anywhere. I always assumed it was because it was too hard for him and his daddy to look at the people they’d lost so suddenly.
He paused like he was really thinking about it and then started with, “Well, she looked a lot like me, I guess. She had really dark hair she always kept long. It was really wavy and soft and always smelled like vanilla. She always wore it down. She would tell you Daddy liked it that way. Her eyes were almost the exact color of mine. Grandma always said I was a spitting image of her.” He stopped talking and stared down at the porch step.
I thought maybe he’d finished talking about her, but after a minute, he continued.
“Every year, she would let us open one present on Christmas Eve. It was always a pair of Christmas pajamas and a Christmas book for us to read that night. She and dad would cuddle up with us in their giant bed. We’d stuff our faces with popcorn and read books and watch Christmas movies until we passed out.” His lips curved up in a sad smile again, and I squeezed his arm closer to my body. “We’d wake up in the morning to a million presents, but my favorite thing was her homemade donuts. She would fry them up on the stove, and after she was done, she would let us dip them in cinnamon or powdered sugar or chocolate. She was a really good baker. She’d even make homemade hot chocolate to go along with them. It was thick and creamy and so sweet that I couldn’t even drink much of it, but we loved it.”
He stopped talking again and leaned his head against mine.
“She sounds wonderful, Adrian,” I said.
“She was. She was the very best mom,” he said softly.
“Do you miss her a lot?” I asked.
It was a dumb question. Of course he missed her. But I wanted him to tell me. I wanted him to say it. I felt like he needed to tell someone how much he missed her.
“All the time. Every day. Sometimes, I wake up in the morning and forget that she isn’t here. And I’m so happy. I lie in bed and think I can smell chocolate chip waffles or blueberry pancakes or even her famous donuts, but then I remember and it’s like losing her and Maggie all over again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again without her. It hurts so bad. People keep saying that the hurt will go away soon, but it doesn’t. Not for me, and not for dad.”
This time, his pause seemed final. I glanced up at his face and the devastation made my chest hurt. I wanted to ask about his sister, Maggie, but I knew that it wasn’t the time. He was in too much pain.
I nudged my elbow into his ribs and said, “Well, if you ever need—”
But Adrian cut me off with a shake of his head. He was done discussing it.
I gave him an understanding smile before saying, “That cat ain’t going to kill itself, Adrian.”
He chuckled, and I gave his arm one final squeeze before I stood up and headed for my violin. As I picked it up, I sent up a prayer for the poor boy’s ears and then forged on with yet another round of “Mary Had a
Little Lamb.” I figured, if anything, my horrible playing might cheer him up. Adrian sat there for a long time and watched me play, his stare unmoving. His jaw ticked and he rolled his neck. Eventually, he pulled his sketchbook and his pencil out and got to work.
We spent the rest of the afternoon like that. Doing different things apart but together. It was perfect.
Age 13
It was Christmas morning and I was exhausted. The sun wasn’t up yet, but I was. I’d hardly slept a wink, and it wasn’t because I was excited to open presents. Last night, I’d been just about to doze to sleep, the sound of Lori’s snoring above me, when a muffled yell made me sit up in bed. It had sounded like it was coming from outside, so I’d crept to my window and noticed immediately that the light in Adrian’s room was on. I slid my window open and listened harder. Sure enough, thumping and loud shouts were coming from his bedroom. I hadn’t been able to make out what they were saying, but it was obvious they were angry. For hours, it had seemed to go on, and when, finally, the shouting and banging noises stopped, I still couldn’t go to sleep. I was still too worried about Adrian. We’d lived next door to each other for years and I’d never heard anything like that happen before.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Adrian and his daddy had been fighting last night, and as I lay in bed that morning, I knew that my first order of business would be checking on him.
I wasn’t a wallower. I was a doer. So I pulled my covers back, the morning chill hitting me hard. I vigorously rubbed my arms to generate some warmth. Teeth chattering, I tiptoed out of my room and down the hallway, careful not to wake Lori. I peeked into Momma’s room. She was lying in bed, reading a book, but she looked up when she saw me in her doorway.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” she said as she scooted over and patted the spot she had just vacated. “Come on, then. So you can warm up.”
I climbed in her bed, and she pulled the sheets and the quilt up to my neck. I snuggled down into Momma’s pillow, and she pulled me close. Her entire room smelled like lavender, but especially her pillow and her bed. It soothed me. It was the smell of my momma, and I needed that this morning.
Momma’s entire room was done in light purples and whites. It was light and bright just like her. I loved it. It was feminine, pretty, and homey with its big pillows and muted lamps.
Momma leaned closer to me, her nose practically touching mine. Her eyebrows rose, and she asked, “What’s up, buttercup?”
Somehow, she always knew when something was on my mind. She always knew when I was down and how to cheer me up. And I realized in that moment that my momma was everything to me. She helped me pick my clothes out every day. She made me breakfast and packed my lunch before school. She’d bought me that violin we couldn’t afford because I had wanted it so badly. When I was sick, she would put me in her bed and stay up all night with me, consoling me and nurturing me back to health. She worked long hours at a job that was physically demanding so she could feed and clothe me.
I felt a moment of panic hit me. What would I do if I didn’t have her? What if I lost her suddenly? Who would love me so unconditionally and completely. Oh, Adrian. My heart splintered into a thousand pieces in that moment of realization. He had lost it all, and now, it seemed he and his father were at odds as well. My pain for him was almost unbearable.
I looked at my sweet, wonderful, and selfless mother and asked for yet another thing from her. “Momma, do you know how to make donuts?”
Her forehead scrunched in confusion and she said, “Well, no, but I reckon the Internet can teach you to make anything. Why? Do you want to have donuts this morning for Christmas breakfast?”
We usually had biscuits, gravy, and bacon. My and Lori’s favorites. But, that morning, we needed donuts—or at least Adrian did.
“Yeah. I want you to make donuts and we can dip them in chocolate or cinnamon. Doesn’t that sound good?” I asked.
“Whatever you want to have sounds perfect, Ains.” Momma smiled and headed to the computer in her room.
I assumed she was looking up how to make donuts.
I blinked really slowly and sighed deep. “Do you think we can invite Adrian over to have donuts with us too?” I was a little nervous she would say no. It was Christmas Day, after all. It was what she would call “family time,” and usually, “family time” around there only included, well, family. But I needed to make sure he was okay after what I’d heard last night.
I felt her eyes snap to mine with confusion again. “You want to invite Adrian to have Christmas donuts for breakfast? With us?” she asked. She seemed so clueless, and I had a feeling she was going to throw the holiday family time gavel down at any moment.
“Please, Momma. Please let him come. It’s really important, so just…please?” I begged, and I never begged. In fact, I hardly ever asked for anything. So, when I did ask for something, she usually caved. I was hoping today was one of those usuals.
After what seemed like forever, she finally spoke. “Of course Adrian can come over for breakfast. But you make sure to invite his daddy over too. We don’t want him all alone on Christmas morning. All right, baby?”
I nodded and wrapped my arms around her. I was the luckiest girl in the world. I had the kind of momma who loved me enough to trust me. And the feeling it gave me felt decadent and rich. It felt like love.
A few minutes later, Lori woke up excited and ready to open presents. So that’s what we spent the morning doing. Lori got a huge dollhouse with tons of little furniture, and I got an iPod loaded with classical music. I was ecstatic, and Lori seemed pretty happy too. I checked out the window every now and then to see if there was any movement at Adrian’s house, but everything was silent over there. They’d been up late. Maybe they were still sleeping.
I was lying on the couch, shoving yet another piece of chocolate from my stocking into my mouth, when Momma said that she was starting donuts. She asked me to go next door and get Adrian and his father.
I looked down at my green elf pajamas. Adrian would just have to laugh at my expense because we didn’t come out of our Christmas pajamas on Christmas Day. It was just the way it was. Besides, Lori was wearing the exact same pair, only hers were red. I wouldn’t be the only one getting picked on. I slipped my slippers and my jacket on and made my way next door. The air was heavy with fog and mist, which made it feel a lot cooler than it actually was, so I made sure to hurry.
Before I could knock, Adrian yanked the door open and stepped outside. He was adorable, wearing a white undershirt and a plaid pair of pajamas bottoms, and his hair was all over the place.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s early and Christmas morning. Your mom not doing ‘family time’?”
I almost smiled at his use of “family time” until I noticed the cut on the side of his swollen upper lip. Oh, God. Last night. I could only come to one conclusion after what I’d heard, but I didn’t want to believe it.
I gasped and cupped the side of his face with my hand. “What happened to your lip?” I asked, rubbing my thumb over the fresh cut.
He pressed his cold face into the warmth of my hand and said, “It’s nothing, Ains. I’m fine. I just fell off my bike yesterday evening.”
He didn’t look fine to me. He looked broken. I couldn’t help but want to make him feel better. So I let his face go and wrapped my arms around his back A big sigh escaped his body as he hugged me back, his arms encircling my waist.
I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”
“I’m fine. I swear.”
He was lying to me, but I let him. Because I didn’t want the truth any more than he wanted to tell it. It was too horrifying.
Pressing up on my tiptoes, I brushed my mouth across the cut on his lip. “There. All better.” My cheeks flushed at my own brazenness. I was tempted to press my lips to the other side of his mouth as well. I felt a strange but exhilarating buzz beneath my skin. I’d never thought of
kissing Adrian before, but it felt as natural as breathing. Now that I’d had a taste of him, I wanted more. I rocked back on my feet, nearly breathless at the thought.
“Perfect,” Adrian breathed across my lips. His eyes held mine for what felt like forever. “Sometimes, you’re the only thing in this world that makes me smile, Ainsley Michelle James.”
As sad as it was that not much made him smile, I still felt warm all over at his words, like the sun was shining out of my skin. Even on such a cold day, I was enveloped in warmth. It felt so good that it made me want all of his smiles so I could always live in this sunshine.
“Well, you make me shine, Adrian Michael Davis. So there,” I said, hugging him tight to me again.
He glanced down at me and smirked. “That’s good, Sunshine.”
I blushed at the nickname, and he quickly changed the subject.
“So, what did you come over for?” he asked into the top of my head.
I reluctantly backed out of our hug. I wanted to tell him that I had come over because I was worried about him. Because I’d heard the awful fight between him and his father. But I didn’t. It was Christmas and I didn’t want to make things worse for him.
“Momma wanted me to invite you over for breakfast,” I said, toying with the back of my hair. I’d probably be in trouble for not inviting his daddy, but I just couldn’t.
Adrian nervously looked toward his front door and then back at me.
“If you don’t want to come, it’s no big deal. Momma just thought you would like to join us,” I said like it didn’t matter. But it did. I didn’t want him spending Christmas Day fighting with his father. I especially didn’t want him hurt any more than he already was.
