AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We took the streetcar to the east end of the city and found my ancient home without any trouble. I wondered what sort of place Conrad lived in as I gazed up at my house. My narrow home was built with red brick and the white paint was peeling off my porch. It wasn’t much, but it was where I felt the safest. I smiled slightly at our bright blue front door.
I had begged Jeremy and Clair to paint it that ridiculous shade when I was eleven. They had finally caved, and it had remained electric blue ever since. I was just about to turn to say goodbye to Conrad when Clair squeezed through the narrow gap between our house and our neighbor’s. She had gardening gloves on and a yellow sundress that matched her short, pale blonde hair. Her grey eyes widened as she noticed us, her delicate laugh lines smoothing out.
“Raven!” She exclaimed, before bursting into one of the most genuine smiles I had ever seen, even on her kind face. “Who is this?” She asked rushing forward and pulling off her soil covered gloves to shake Conrad’s hand. I felt my face heat up at her obvious excitement at the fact that I had been socializing with someone my own age.
Conrad had never mentioned it, but I knew he had noticed how people avoided me on the streets. Pulling his heavily tattooed hands out of his pockets, he took Clair’s outstretched palm in both of his, grinning in his good-natured way.
“Nice to meet yuh Miss…” He trailed off and I realized I hadn’t even mentioned my last name. It was hard for me to believe I had met him just an hour and a half ago. He was so easy to get along with I felt as if I had known him much longer.
“Fisher.” My adoptive mother beamed. “But you must call me Clair.” Conrad nodded easily.
“Clair it is. Mi just met yuh daughter in… class.” He said, not mentioning that the class in question was for people with psychotic rage issues. He needn’t have worried. Clair didn’t have a judgmental bone in her body. “Raven’s been showing mi di city.”
“Well, you must be hungry.” She said, looking at me, still so obviously thrilled that I seemed to have finally made a friend. “Why don’t you two come inside? I have some dinner in the slow cooker.” Before I could make an excuse for Conrad, who probably didn’t want to spend his evening chatting with my mother, he replied,
“Sure, thanks, mi starving!” I gaped at him. How could he possibly be starving? He had eaten half the snack counter at anger management then gorged himself on an extra-large cone of ice cream.
“Perfect!” Clair said as she turned to lead the way up our sinking front steps. “There’s more than enough to go around.” I glanced at Conrad, and he just smiled and gestured for me to follow Clair into the house. He fell easily in step behind me.
As I went through my bright blue front door, I was painfully aware that I had never had anyone over to my house before. I tried to see my home as if it were through his eyes. It’s not like we lived in squalor or anything, but we certainly did not live lavishly.
Between Clair’s double shifts at the hospital and Jeremy’s police job, we had a moderate family income, but living this close to downtown was not cheap. A lot of their money, of course, had gone to the various forms of therapy that I needed and wasn’t covered by OHIP, or either of their benefit plans.
The foyer was small like most inner-city homes, and I kicked off my hideous school shoes before walking up the two wooden steps into the main hallway. Our walls were a simple off-white and garnished with a few family photos. I felt my back tense as Conrad paused behind me to look at a few of them. A small smile bloomed on his face as he examined one of me on my third birthday; covered in my birthday cake and grinning like a fox with a rabbit. When he turned from that happy moment, documented and frozen in time forever, I could have sworn I saw a flicker of sorrow flash in his eyes. I must have been imagining it though because the sadness was gone almost as soon as it had come.
We continued our way into my small scrubbed kitchen that was attached to our living room. Only a half wall separated the two spaces, which made it easy to watch TV while we ate dinner. For now, however, the TV remained off. I winced as I took in our couches. Chesterfields seemed to be a more appropriate term, as their green, floral print screamed that they still belonged in the 80’s. Conrad didn’t seem to mind though as he passed the living room. He flopped down in one of our wooden, country style chairs, looking for all the world like a Pirate Lord ready to captain his ship. I marveled again at how easily he seemed to adapt to his surroundings.
Clair was busy ladling pulled pork out of the slow cooker and onto some buns. She put the sandwiches on three plates with some pre-made salad and deftly carried all three by herself to the table. A skill she had acquired from her many years of waiting tables through nursing school. I sat in my usual spot which put me beside Conrad and across from Clair.
“So.” She began as we all started digging in. “How old are you Conrad?”
“Twenty,” he said in between bites. I mulled this over. He was only about two years older than I was. I was about to turn eighteen in a couple of months. For some reason, he felt so much older. So much more in-tune with the world than I did.
“Well in that case, would you like a beer?” Clair offered and I knew Conrad’s answer before he beamed.
“Well, yuh just stole mi heart Mrs. Fisha.” He said mischievously and she laughed in that open, full-throated way she always did.
Her expression mellowed though as she got up to go get him a beer. She was watching him discreetly, her brows knit together as if she was trying to work out some sort of puzzle.
Conrad met her gaze and there seemed to be a flash of recognition between them for a moment, and Clair’s eyes widened just a bit. Mine, in turn narrowed. The strange moment between the two of them vanished and Clair bustled off to the fridge. Once again, I was left wondering if I was just imagining things.
4
The rest of dinner went by without any more odd instances. Conrad had Clair and I laughing so hard that we had tears in our eyes by the time Jeremy came home.
Jeremy entered the kitchen, looking even more drawn and tired than he had when he dropped me off. Whatever scene he had been at must have been a bad one. In fact, he’d been off to more crime scenes than normal lately, and I wondered if work, coupled with the stress of dealing with my constant fighting, were finally starting to wear down his resolve.
As soon as he noticed Conrad sitting at the table, however, he tensed up. I tried to look at Conrad through Jeremy’s eyes and registered Conrad’s heavily tattooed arms, the easy way he slouched in the chair, drinking one of his beers. I suddenly felt nervous.
“Hey Dad.” I said carefully. “This is my friend Conrad.” I almost choked on the word ‘friend.’ I don’t think I had ever said it out loud before.
“They met in the anger management class.” Clair beamed. She was either oblivious to the tension in the room or was choosing to ignore it. My guess was the latter.
“And what sort of things have you done to land yourself in an anger management class Conrad? ” Jeremy asked tightly. The hypocrisy of it was astounding. I was messed up enough to be in an anger management class and they made excuses for me all the time. Conrad stood up from his chair and ambled over to Jeremy extending his hand politely.
“Oh, I’m not actually enrolled in the program sir. I just come to pick up a friend and ran into your dawta. I’m not from here and she showed me around a little.” The small white lie seemed effortless for Conrad, as if he understood the truth would seem less believable to a man like Jeremy. I also couldn’t help but notice his accent seemed to melt away when he spoke to Jeremy.
“Well, that’s…convenient.” Jeremy said, ignoring Conrad’s outstretched hand. “I hate to put a damper on your evening, but I am very tired.”
