“Stop it.” I spat. “I work so hard for him. You have no idea.”
He couldn’t know what I’d been through to keep the trailer. To keep money for groceries and heat. He had no clue.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t, Ford. Don’t say you do when you have no idea what it’s like for me. Like I can just fix it by working harder to change myself.”
My voice was rising again. I grabbed my old stuffed bear from my bed and hugged it to me. I didn’t care if it was childish. Lately, I’d been letting myself imagine a different life; a life outside the G-Spot, where I wasn’t up till three a.m. most days. Where maybe I was more than a dancer, even. Those thoughts were dangerous though.
“I do understand. Maybe not exactly. But well enough.” He tugged at his collar. “I was born in a town almost exactly the size of Green Valley. A few hours south of here.”
I blinked. There was no way. “Yeah, right.”
“Really.” He sighed and rubbed his palm against his beard. “I had ten people in my graduating class. Not that I graduated. I was already moving with a fast crowd by junior year and dropped out.”
This had me sitting up. With a sniff, I asked, “No shit? I dropped out junior year too.”
“Yeah. I…well, I was headed on a very different path. But that’s my whole point. I changed who I was. I believed I could and here I am.”
“That simple, huh?” I snapped with extra saltiness.
“No. Not simple at all.” He lifted his chin and his eyes got a sort of faraway look. “I had a teacher who believed in me. After I dropped out, she tracked me down. Found out I was mixed in with the local gang. We were just kids, but we were desperate to prove something. This teacher told me to get my shit together and she’d give me a real job. She was moving and so I went with her.”
I didn’t like the way that sounded. “Were you supposed to sleep with her or something?”
He looked genuinely appalled. “What? God. No. Why would you—” He stopped short, looked me in the eyes so hard that I had to look away and then went on. “No, she was married. Happily. She and her husband sort of took me in as a foster kid through the system. They did that with a lot of kids who needed a chance. Jack too.”
I must’ve made a face because he shook his head. “Nothing weird.”
“What about your parents? Weren’t they worried?”
“No.” His face grew dark. “They weren’t concerned.”
“Your parents didn’t care that you left home?”
“Suzie, my birth parents only cared about their next fix. I think by the time I hit puberty they forgot that I was kin.” His nostrils flared. There was a story there. A story I wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear. “My foster parents are the only parents I acknowledge now. They’re my mom and dad. To Jack, too.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t help but pick at the invisible wall he had built up around him. I wanted to know more. I knew my daddy had his troubles but deep down he loved me and didn’t want me to leave. “Your birth parents were addicted to drugs your whole life?”
I couldn’t imagine.
“No.” He cleared his throat and then picked up the raggedy blanket on the end of the bed. “When I was young I think I was lower middle class. I have memories of a bigger house. Cleaner. My mom and dad were always partiers though. They always drank and had people over that I didn’t know. It was a revolving door of strangers.” He frowned. “My dad worked in a machinery factory. They made giant machine parts for tractors and stuff. One day he got hurt. The doctor gave him opiates for the pain. He got hooked. Got my mom hooked. Then when they realized they could get the same high for a fraction of the price, they switched to heroin.”
“Jesus.”
He had started fussing with the end of the blanket, running his fingers through the fringe, avoiding my eyes as he spoke. “It’s actually an appallingly common story. I found all this out later from my foster mom. Heroin is an epidemic in small communities right now. She also told me when they found my parents.” He stopped here. His face didn’t change. He just stared like he was focusing. “They OD’ed together on some filthy mattress in a crack house. Bad heroin.”
My hand covered my mouth. How does somebody survive that? How does a child lose both parents? I thought of his coldness in a totally different light now. A child alone in the world. My throat was tight as tears blurred my vision. It was a sickening, horrible thing. I couldn’t believe this was Ford’s life. I couldn’t believe somebody could come back from that. I didn’t know how to act.
He’d shared with me. So I’d give him what he needed.
I scooted closer to him on the old mattress. The action had us sort of falling together. “That’s absolutely horrible.” I wrapped my arms around his middle and rested my head on his chest. His heart thumped like crazy against my ear.
He was stiff as I hugged him. That was okay. I’d give him all the hugs. He didn’t have to hug back.
I swallowed. “Is this why you do the work you do?”
He hummed a yes. “If I could help kids from growing up like I did… But these towns have to change. All these small towns are dying. People are searching for something to escape; major changes need to be made. It’s not like I think I’m capable of changing the world. But if I could save just one kid from the childhood I had, it would be worth everything. Every child deserves to have one person believe in them, to have the access and opportunity to want more for themselves.” His eyes grew dark and I could almost hear his internal counting. “I don’t like to talk about my past.”
