I got in the front seat, placing my backpack in my lap. Having my knife and knuckles close to me seemed to be the only comfort I could find. And I needed it. The little car’s engine igniting punched me in the gut. This was happening. I was officially homeless and utterly alone.
Staring at the little home under the trees fade from sight, I ignored the vicious death claws trying to rip apart my composure, anger replacing the sorrow and grief because it was easier. No, I wasn’t rude to Kristen a third time, but I did stay quiet, stewing in my need for justice, vengeance, and to reap hell on my enemies.
Someday, I would spill blood for the blood I lost. An eye for an eye.
The first part of the drive took nearly thirty minutes, bringing me to the next town over from where I stayed with Noma. No longer as far up in the mountains, I still saw the Cali redwoods that had become a welcome and familiar sight. I knew it wouldn’t take long to get my bearings if this were to be the area where I’d be staying. I wasn’t sure because Kristen wasn’t talking much. She just groaned every time she read a text, then she made a call. “Hey, I’m headed there now, but sounds like I might need assistance…”
Once off the phone, she grimaced at me. “Sorry, this next stop shouldn’t be done with you in the car, but—well, if a kid needs me, I have to drop everything and get to them.”
For real, that earned her some mad respect. “No problem.”
She gently warned, “Especially if you stay in the car. Got it?”
If you only knew how well I understand dangerous situations. “Got it.”
The car picked up speed, and layered silence hung between us. It was almost as if not only the engine was revving, but Kristen’s energy was building as if prepping for a fight.
And she was.
With the car locked and parked in front of a mid-sized home, I watched out the passenger window as police arrived, and a man was escorted away. I don’t know what happened inside, and was never told, but there was lots of yelling and a little girl crying. I couldn’t help but feel grateful I was bigger and stronger than her. What it must have been like to be even more vulnerable than I already was. That little girl needed someone to look after her. Be the iron fist she lacked the strength to muster.
I tightened my hold on the backpack, thankful for Noma’s Life Date gifts. I should never have bitched at that woman. Not fucking once.
Kristen rushed back to the car moments later, but not for me. She opened the rear door and reached inside, rummaging through items on the back seat that I never noticed until now: a case of water, a box full of folded clothes that appeared to have different sizes, a pillow, several new blankets, and another box—this one full of toys. As my gaze swept over the rest, I saw a paper grocery bag full of granola bars and fruit snacks. And the last item? A first aid kit. I shuddered to think how often she needed it. “Give me a minute, Johnny.”
Knowing she kept these things for the kids who might need them, I felt a twinge in my chest. A spark of hope that the little girl at this house and maybe other children like her wouldn’t have a life like mine where they had to live with a fake name and no one to claim them.
Hours later, once the mayhem had ended, hours later, it was completely dark. The sun had taken all the warmth with it as a cool breeze swept through the trees. Even the moon hid behind clouds, too mournful to cast any light. The only bright point in the evening was a family member coming to rescue the little girl.
Shamefully, I was jealous.
Kristen slid into the car, appearing wiped. Mascara smeared under her eyes if she’d been sweating, and her ponytail not so tight. Loose hairs framed her face as she exhaled, staring out the front windshield. “Some people shouldn’t have babies.”
I didn’t miss the unshed tears in her eyes. Maybe they are why my left hand let go of my backpack and rested on her shoulder. I didn’t say anything, but I think that was okay.
Kristen looked at me, then offered a little tired smile. “There’s the boy that woman adores.”
Slowly, my hand retracted. “Don’t you mean past tense?”
Firmly, she denied my pity party. “Nope. I mean that woman loves you so much I’m sure she still is, even from afar.”
In the hospital, the day Dad died, Noma and I exchanged the words in blood and heart. Lips twisting to not cry, I looked back out the passenger window, hoping to God Kristen was right.
I was surprised to eventually pull into a diner’s parking lot, but Kristen said, “Sorry, if I don’t eat, I may faint.” She eyed me as if already knowing the answer to her next question. “Can I buy you a late dinner?”
She didn’t appear shocked when I shook my head.
Inside the cold diner, she ordered food. While we waited for its arrival, Kristen cleared her throat. “The funeral is tomorrow afternoon.”
“So soon?” The words were out before I could stop them, ending on a voice crack that made me cringe inwardly.
“Yes.” She chewed her bottom lip as if hating disappointing another child tonight. “I’ll pick you up at three and take you.”
Less than half a day. How the fuck would I be ready by then to bury my Noma? Better yet, in such a short amount of time, how would I find the strength to not leap into her grave, hoping for dirt to bury me alive?
Panic almost clawed at my throat. I clutched my backpack, ready to run.
She laid a hand on the table between us. “And I’ll stay with you.”
