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The kid is like a wounded animal, and sometimes I feel like I’m taking baby steps. Then there are other times when I feel like I’m right back at square one.
I wonder if I was like this with others when I was his age. Maybe that’s why I never had many friends around here.
I park the truck and we both hop out. I grab a cart, and Noah trudges along behind me.
“What are your favorite foods?” I ask him. “Anything you’re allergic to?”
“No.”
“What are your favorite snacks?” I ask him as we head down the chip aisle.
“I like Doritos,” he tells me, and it feels like a victory.
Getting information out of Noah is like pulling teeth and each new piece feels huge. He’s starting to let me in, even if it’s only letting me know what kind of chips he likes best.
“Me too. Are you a Nacho Cheese or Cool Ranch guy?” I ask him, holding up both bags.
“Cool Ranch,” he mumbles, but I can see a small smile playing around his lips.
“Me too.”
I toss a bag into the cart and we continue on. I pay close attention to Noah as we make our way around the store. Anytime I see him lick his lips or stare longingly at something, I toss it into the cart.
I try to stay away from perishable items since I’m not sure what his house is like. Our electricity got cut off from lack of payment quite a bit when I was younger, and I don’t want the food to go to waste if it’s the same for Noah. Crackers, soups, microwavable mac and cheese, granola bars, Pop-Tarts, and applesauce are all good options. Easy things he can make for himself or grab on the go.
We add a case of water to the cart and I throw in some gummy bears and a bag of apples before we make our way up to the registers.
“Remington!” Calls a voice behind me, and I turn to see Asher Mayson headed my way.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. Just picking up a few things for the wife,” he says.
His eyes shift over to Noah, and I clear my throat.
“Noah, this is my friend, Asher. Asher, this is my Little Brother, Noah.”
“Little Brother?” he asks, shocked, and I smile.
“I’ve been volunteering with the Big Brothers Big Sisters program,” I explain, and he nods.
“That’s great! It’s nice to meet you,” he tells Noah, and Noah nods.
He seems a little uncomfortable, and I wonder if Asher’s dad, the Sheriff for Murfreesboro, Tennessee, has been by his house before. Or maybe he’s always anxious around strangers.
Murfreesboro is a pretty small town and the chances of Noah not at least seeing the Mayson brothers or family around are slim, so I’m thinking that Sheriff Mayson has been by Noah’s place before for something.
The person in front of me moves up in line, and Asher smiles.
“I’ll let you two check out. I’ll see you later though. We need to catch up. Maybe we can grab a beer or something on Thursday?”
“Yeah, I’ll text you,” I tell him, and he nods, clapping me on the shoulder before he heads over to the produce section.
“Help me put everything on the belt?” I ask Noah, and he nods.
He seems deep in thought as we check out and I leave him alone as I pay and place the bags back into the cart. We load up my truck and I climb behind the wheel.
“Can you give me directions to your house? Or should I just drop you off back at the Big Brothers Big Sister center?” I ask him.
