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I go over to Grandfather, put
my hand on his cheek. “I’ll be back.”
He refuses to meet my eyes.
I’ll be right here, waiting.
WHEN I OPEN THE DOOR
I’m surprised to see the car
parked at the curb. It’s a late
model Cadillac. White. Pin
neat. Wait. This can’t be Trey’s.
Suddenly I understand how
little I really know about him.
Am I making an awful mistake?
Wasn’t he in prison for grand
theft auto, among other things?
“Uh. Nice car. Whose is it?”
He pulls the key from his
pocket, waves it in the air,
pushes a button that opens
the trunk, puts my suitcase
inside. Actually, it’s my mom’s.
Get in. He waits for me to
make up my mind. It takes all
of two minutes before he says,
Well? Are you coming or what?
He starts the car. Exactly
the motivation I need. I slink
into the front passenger seat,
fingers tingling. Plush white leather
sucks me in. The stereo plays
metal and my heart drums along.
