by Amie Knight
He looked like he was debating it for a minute, but he finally said “Sure. Just let me grab a jacket and some shoes. Just wait out here. I’ll be right back.”
We made the trek back across the yard, and when I pushed the door open, a wave of heat from the fireplace in the living room hit us. We began stripping out of our jackets and our shoes while Lori ran over, practically tackling Adrian to the floor.
“Dang, girl. Let me get in the house first,” he teased, his arms full of an excited Lori.
She only hugged him tighter. “Blue, you get to have Christmas breakfast with us! Isn’t that awesome? And guess what?”
I was smiling. I couldn’t help it with these two. Over the past couple of years, they had become so incredibly close, and to say I was pleased would be a vast understatement. I was ecstatic. Lori guarded her heart like Fort Knox. I even felt like she didn’t let me and Momma all the way in sometimes. But her Blue was in and I loved him for it.
“What, pretty girl?” he asked. He was holding Lori away from him, and her body was strung tight in excitement.
“We’re having donuts!” she yelled right in his face.
His arms fell away, and Lori spun in a circle, clapping her little hands in elation. I avoided his eyes as I went into the kitchen to help make donuts, and Adrian and Lori followed, sitting at the bar together.
“Merry Christmas, Adrian,” Momma said. “Your daddy couldn’t make it?”
Adrian gave me a questioning look before saying, “No, ma’am. He’s sick. He hasn’t even made it out of bed yet.”
“I’ll have to send some donuts home with you for him,” Momma said before looking up at Adrian, smiling.
“He’d love that. Thanks.” Adrian looked a little uncomfortable.
I knew why. I didn’t regret it. That man had hurt my favorite boy.
“Dig in,” Momma said.
And we did. It was a good day. We gorged ourselves on donuts. We watched Christmas movies and played with our new toys. We stuffed our faces with candy and chocolate until our bellies ached. We played board games and sang Christmas carols. Momma even talked me into playing an eardrum-rupturing version of “Jingle Bells” I had just learned on my violin. What we didn’t do was hear from Adrian’s father. At all. He didn’t call. He didn’t stop by. And Adrian didn’t mention it one time.
Age 14
I pressed the pillow tighter over my head. I was trying to block out the familiar sounds coming from next door. Every thump, every yell, and every roar coming from Adrian’s house sent my heart into my throat. It’d been quite a while since I’d heard Adrian and his dad fighting, but not long enough that I didn’t recognize the sounds. They still terrified me. My stomach churned at the thought of Adrian hurt. My heart burned with the need to protect him. I lay there wide awake until the noises finally stopped, but this time, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep.
I had to see him right then. Make sure he was okay. But it wasn’t like he was going to suddenly appear. It wasn’t a Lifetime movie, so I knew Adrian wasn’t going to come knocking on my window with tiny pebbles. He wasn’t going to climb over my windowsill and confess his hurts. If I wanted to check on him, I was going to have to do it.
I got out of bed and took a peek out of my bedroom window. It was quiet and mostly dark outside, but I could see a dim light coming from the windowpane of his room. I lifted my window just enough to climb out. I quietly shut it behind me and trotted across the yard. The dew on the grass was cool beneath my feet and the bottom of my nightgown got soaked as I jogged across the space between our homes.
I lightly tapped on his window with the very tips of my fingers. Now that I was there, I was starting to question exactly what I was doing. Maybe I should just turn around and go back home. I mean, Adrian was probably fine and I was more than likely completely overreacting. Right? But I couldn’t stomach knowing that he might need me, so I knocked a little harder, using my knuckles this time.
The window snapped open so fast that I took a tumble right into the holly bush.
“Jesus, Ainsley! Are you trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood?” he snapped, pausing as he took in my current location.
Meanwhile, I took note that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“And why the heck are you in that bush?” he questioned incredulously.
I felt my face heat. I was humiliated, but I untangled myself from the bush and checked myself for scrapes. Maybe, if I don’t look him in the eyes, he won’t see how embarrassed I am.
“I was just coming to check on you,” I huffed to hide my emotion. I was just going to come out and say it. “Look, Adrian, I heard you and your daddy fighting. It isn’t the first I’ve heard it, either. I just thought maybe you might want to talk or something. I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” I was rambling, and I needed to get the hell out of there. Turning around quickly, I bolted toward my house.
I didn’t make it far. Adrian leaned out the window, grabbed me around the waist, and dragged me inside. Crap.
He leaned down and lifted my nightgown, checking for scratches. “I’m fine, Ainsley. You worry too much, ya know. About everyone. You should worry about yourself. You almost got hurt in that damn bush,” he scolded.
He was right. He wasn’t my responsibility. But Momma had taught me to take care of the people I love. And, God, I did love Adrian. And how dare he make me feel bad about it.
My face heated, and I clenched my teeth. Now, I was mad, so I barked out, “You’re right. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the bus stop. Sleep good.” I turned back toward the window, ready to bolt.
But Adrian grabbed my shoulders and pulled my back flush with his chest. “Don’t go,” he whispered. “I’m just having an awful day. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He put his arms over my shoulders, wrapped them around the top of my chest, and hugged me to him.
I tipped my head back and to the side. “Do you want to tell me about your bad day?” I asked quietly, hoping not to set him off again.
“Come on.” He dragged me toward his bed and flopped down, scooting over and patting the spot beside him.
I lay down next him, all too aware of his smooth, naked chest right next to my head. I blushed a little. It probably wasn’t right to be in bed with a boy. I knew that my momma wouldn’t like it at all. But it was Adrian. And we weren’t doing anything wrong. I was just being a good friend like my momma had taught me. Never mind how much I wanted him to wrap his arms around me. I told myself that I was just being there for someone I loved.
Adrian reached out and grabbed my hand. I turned my head to look at his face, but he just stared at the ceiling. He seemed to be thinking, so I kept quiet and waited.
“My daddy has been real sad since Momma and Maggie died. He drinks. Ya know, beer and stuff sometimes.” He paused.
I didn’t want him to continue because I knew in my heart what he was going to say. And I didn’t want it to be true. Not for him. My lips trembled as his breaths quickened. The reality of it all was ravaging his tough façade.
He swallowed loudly and then said, “When he drinks, he gets mad sometimes. I try to stay out his way, Ainsley. I really do.”
I could hear the tears in his voice, and they broke my heart. I felt like I’d been sucker-punched in the chest. In my heart, I’d known the truth, but the reality of hearing it still shocked me to my core.
I couldn’t let him continue. It was too hard on both of us, so I turned and wrapped my arms around him. He rested his head on my chest, and I drew him close, but besides that, I didn’t really know what to do. I caressed my hand over the smooth skin of his cheek and he flinched.
He leaned farther forward and rested his forehead against mine. “Careful, Sunshine,” he muttered quietly.
I looked down at his face, noticing the fresh bruise forming on his cheek. I didn’t want to be careful though. Even if I didn’t understand it, I knew I wanted to hug him, kiss him, protect him. But,
right then, he just needed to be consoled.
I was a kid. But so was he. I did what my momma always did to make me feel better.
Rocking him back and forth, I whispered, “Shh,” over and over again. I rubbed his back and stroked his smooth, black hair, letting him soak the front of my nightgown in tears while my own ran down my cheeks and onto his pillow.
The next morning at the bus stop, I was exhausted, but mostly, I just felt wrung out and hung up to dry. Last night, I had stayed with Adrian until his eyes had finally closed and his breathing had become even. I’d snuck back home and tossed and turned all night. I couldn’t make this better, and I felt completely helpless. I was still in shock over Adrian’s confession, and I couldn’t stop trying to come up with a solution to his problems. That was just me; I fixed things. But I couldn’t figure out how to make this better, and it was killing me.
While I was at a loss for how to help, I knew what I couldn’t do: tell my mom or anyone else. It felt like too big of a betrayal. Adrian had confided in me and trusted me. What if I told and they took him away from his dad? He had already lost his mom and his sister. That didn’t seem like the solution because I knew that, if I told, Adrian would be taken from his father. He’d probably be taken from me too. If I felt this raw, I couldn’t imagine how Adrian felt, and that made me feel even worse. I was lost in all of these thoughts when I felt someone pull one of my curls.
It’s like boys were born with the knowledge that messing with a curly girl’s hair would ruin her day. Did they get a manual that told them how insecure we felt about our hair? I turned around and gave a heated glare to Anthony Jackson. He lived on the next block over from me, and most of the time, I wished he lived on the next continent over. He had a habit of teasing me mercilessly. He was also very talented in the art of making spit bubbles. I had learned this last year in English class, where I was lucky enough to sit in the desk in front of him. He would make spit balls rain down on my head whenever the teacher wasn’t looking. When I turned around and asked him to stop, he would only blow spit bubbles in my face. It was a shame, really, because he wasn’t half bad-looking. His blond hair and light-hazel eyes could almost convince you the kid was an angel. He had a killer smile and dimples to boot, but I knew what he hid behind those sweet clefts on each cheek—the devil.
I was in no mood for his shenanigans. “Anthony Jackson, if you do not keep your grubby hands to yourself, I will kick you in your tiny balls.” I couldn’t deal with his crap.
Lori was pulling leaves off a nearby tree, and Adrian and Miranda hadn’t made it to the bus stop yet. I was on my own.
“You’re gonna do what?” He cackled.
I sighed. “Look, Anthony. Today is not the day, okay?”
He looked at me like he might feel a little remorse for giving me a hard time, but then he grabbed my hand and brought it to his mouth. “Aww, Ainsleyboo. Are you having a rough morning? Want me to kiss it all better, babe?”
Oh. My. God. The devil was going to kiss my hand. I was in the process of trying to snatch my hand away before I became infected when Adrian appeared out of nowhere and shoved Anthony back a little harder than I thought was necessary.
“Keep your filthy mouth off of Ainsley,” he growled.
I stood there, wide eyed. Adrian’s face was a mask of rage, his fist clenched at his sides. I could tell he was waiting for Anthony to smart off, but wisely, Anthony only shrugged and walked off, grumbling his apologies. My mouth gaped in shock.
Adrian had never interfered with Anthony’s teasing before. He knew I could take care of myself. I was no shrinking violet. This wasn’t the first time a boy had teased me, and it wouldn’t be the last. But, that day, for some reason, he had intervened. I could see the protectiveness etched across his face. It scared me. It excited me.
I just stared openmouthed at Adrian while he walked over to Lori and sat down beside her, whispering in her ear while she giggled back replies. This was what he always did at the bus stop. I could deal with this. What I couldn’t deal with was his blazing stare my way every now and then as he sat there on the green grass. What I couldn’t deal with was his careful glances at me the whole way to school as I sat next to Miranda on the bus, while he sat next to Lori. It felt different, like things had magically changed between us overnight. And maybe they had. I could feel it in his intense looks. I could feel it in the shaking of my legs and the wild gallop in my chest. I didn’t know what this meant for us. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. All morning, I’d been dogged with thoughts of how to save my friend, but who was going to save me?
Age 15
Mmmm. I’d smelled it even before I’d woken up. Bacon. It was Lori’s favorite food, and Momma was cooking some up because it was Lori’s thirteenth birthday. I climbed out of bed, leaned over the top bunk, and blew a wet, slobbery kiss right on Lori’s cheek.
“Happy birthday, Monkey!” I yelled.
Lori rolled away from me and grumbled, “Go away.”
I knew how to get her behind out of bed. “Oh, come on, birthday girl. I smellllll bacon,” I said in a singsong voice.
Lori jumped from the bed, and we raced to the kitchen, practically running each other over. We were at that weird gangly stage, so we elbowed and kneed each other all the way down the hallway. My momma stood in front of the oven in her nightgown, flipping pancakes. Some of my most favorite memories of my momma were in this tiny kitchen. She loved cooking breakfast. It was her most favorite meal, and when she had the rare day off, we spent many mornings there while I sat on the white counters, popping and buttering toast for our eggs. On the even rarer mornings when she would make biscuits and gravy, she would put a small stool by the stove and place a cup of milk in my tiny hands. I would pour it slowly while she stirred until the gravy thickened. I realized that I hadn’t poured the milk in a long time. I could make my own biscuits and gravy now. But that didn’t stop me from missing pouring milk for Momma.
“Morning, girls. Did y’all sleep good?”
Lori nodded, her mouth full of bacon, and I took a seat at the bar so I could watch Mom cook. Lori skipped over and hopped up in the stool next to mine.
I was so excited for today. Lori didn’t know it, but Momma and I were taking her to pick out her very own kitten. Lori had been animal obsessed for as long as I could remember. I couldn’t count the number of times she would bring a lost dog or cat home. Momma would always find the owner and Lori would be heartbroken when the little fur balls had to be returned to their homes. But, that day, she would get to pick her very own and keep it.
Momma set our pancakes and bacon down in front of us, and we dug in.
“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” she said. She looked at me and winked.
I smirked and looked over at Lori. Her face was sad, and her shoulders were slumped. She wasn’t always the happiest on her birthday. I knew they were hard on her, her mom not being there and usually not even acknowledging her special day. But Momma and I would always band together and make her day as momentous as we could.
My mom stood next to Lori, her graying, brown hair pulled up in a big knot on her head. Her plump finger tapped her chin in thought. “What am I forgetting, Ains? Aren’t we supposed to be doing something special today?”
Lori giggled a little, and I smiled. Mom always got her out of her moods.
“Ohhh, that’s right. It’s someone’s birthday today.” She yanked Lori off the stool and busted out the most awful and off-key version of “Happy Birthday” I’d ever heard while twirling and dancing with Lori around the living room.
Lori’s fits of laughter were so grand that she could hardly stand, so Momma pulled her close and finished her song.
“Happy birthday, you precious, amazing girl. You will never know how lucky and blessed we are every year we get to spend with you. You are so cherished.”
Lori leaned forward and whispered, “I love you, Aunt Jessi.”
“I love you too. So, what do you want to do on your b
irthday, honey?” my mom asked.
Lori didn’t hesitate. “I want to camp out in the backyard with Ains and Blue. And I want to have pizza and make s’mores.”
“Sounds like a plan, baby girl. Finish your breakfast and then go get your clothes on and brush your teeth and hair. We’re headed out for a surprise.” Momma ruffled Lori’s hair.
We wolfed our breakfasts down. Lori rushed past me, and we ran all the way to our room. I pulled some jean shorts and a white T-shirt on. When I got to the bathroom, Lori was already in there, brushing her teeth. She was wearing jean shorts, only she had a black shirt that said Birthday Girl across the front in a rainbow of colors. She didn’t look as melancholy as earlier in the day, but I could tell she wasn’t quite herself. I grabbed my own toothbrush, added some toothpaste, and started brushing. I looked at her in the mirror and nudged her hard with my elbow. She looked at me in the mirror and pushed me back with her hip. I grinned at her through my toothpaste, and she smiled back. I couldn’t stand to see her sad. I was hoping that this kitten business would make for the best birthday ever.
While we were doing our hair, Momma yelled, “Let’s go, ladies! Sunshine’s a’wastin.”
We all piled into Momma’s old white Volvo and headed out. Lori tried to guess where we were going the entire thirty-minute car ride, but we never even gave her a clue. I slipped my flip-flops off, propped my feet up on the seat in front of me, and listened to the old bluegrass Momma always played on the radio. When we pulled up outside of the animal shelter, Lori screeched so loudly that I nearly jumped out of my seat.
“Oh my God, are we adopting a pet? We are! Aren’t we? Aunt Jessi, can I get a dog and a cat? I’m so excited!” Lori was literally bouncing in her seat.
Momma turned around and looked at us. “You may get one pet, Loralie. One. Is that understood?”
Lori nodded.
Momma continued. “I would prefer if we got a kitten since they are a little bit easier to take care of and I work so much. But this animal will be your responsibility. You will care for it, feed it, and love it, and in return, it will love you because you deserve that. If you don’t give this animal your love and devotion, you don’t deserve it back. Do you understand what I am trying to say, baby girl?” My mom looked at her beseechingly.
