CHAPTER FIVE
Grayson — 15 years old (Summer before sophomore year)
I watch Naomi play in the sandbox. There’s an excited gleam in her eyes, and I can hear her delighted giggles all the way over here.
It pains me that I can’t hear those giggles every day now.
The woman squats down next to Naomi, and she doesn’t care that her clothes are getting dirty with sand. Her attention is wholly on my sister. She says something to Naomi, which has my little princess laughing even harder.
Naomi hands her the scoop and motions for the woman to start digging, which she does gladly. She doesn’t refuse my sister. In fact, they are both so in tune with each other that they appear to be the perfect image of a mother and her daughter.
Her husband is just three feet away from them, his phone in his hand as he takes their pictures. He’s smiling, and there’s warmth in his eyes. I can see that he cares.
It fucking guts me.
This resemblance of a perfect family.
That’s my sister. And I’m forced to watch from here — the outsider in Naomi’s story.
“She is loved,” Diane finally says, after a while. “And she’s happy.”
But it’s not right. This can’t be right.
It’s not fair that they took her away from me. It’s not fair that my sister is happy with someone else, and I’m watching from afar. It’s not right that we can’t be together anymore.
It’s not right that she has a new family…
Because I am her family. Her only family.
It’s not fucking fair.
I have the bag of sliced white bread under my arm and a carton of milk in my hand as I push past the door. I couldn’t afford any eggs for this week. I guess we’ll just have to make do with bread and whatever butter we have left for now. I just have to make sure Naomi has food, and her belly is full before she goes to bed. That’s all that matters — even if it means that I have to starve so that she has enough.
“Naomi, I’m home,” I announce quietly, so as to let her know who’s entering the trailer. The place is dark, and I squint, trying to see where my sister is. Who turned off the lights?
I set the bread and mild on the table, and reach for the light switch. “Naomi?” I call out again.
The moment the lights are on, I hear a tiny hiccup. A mewling, muffled cry. A sound I’m familiar with. Swiveling toward the noise that’s coming from the mattress, I stalk closer.
My mother is there, on her side. Facing the wall. Her dark curly hair is a mess on her head, and I know she hasn’t brushed it for days. I’m not sure the last time she even got out of bed or took a shower. She eats in bed, barely speaks to Naomi or me, and just sleeps. If she’s not sleeping…She's drinking. If she’s not drinking, she’s yelling.
And if she’s not yelling at us…she’s fucking around somewhere.
My mother is asleep and I find Naomi cuddled close, right up against her body. She has her tiny arms around our mother’s waist and she clings to her. The tiny cries I heard before, came from Naomi.
I squat down next to the mattress. “Hey, princess.” She doesn’t lift her head like she usually does at the sound of my voice. It’s strange, but I don’t hang onto this little detail.
“I got us dinner,” I tell her softly. “How about a warm glass of milk before bed and we let Mommy sleep? I’ll read to you before we go to sleep. Come here, sweetheart.”
I go to grab Naomi and my arm brushes against my mother’s cold face. It’s late spring and the trailer is hot and humid. Sweat is dripping down my back, and my dampened shirt is plastered against my skin. Alarm bells ring in my ears at the feel of my mother’s cool flesh.
Anxiously, I pat her face, but she doesn’t even twitch.
“Mom?” My voice shakes. I don’t remember the last time I talked to her directly.
No…
I don’t remember the last time I called her, ‘mom.’
She hasn’t been my ‘mom’ for years. And I think she even stopped trying or caring at some point.
My fingers grip her shoulders, and I shake her. “Mom? Wake up.”
Naomi’s sniffling grows louder and she hiccups back another cry.
I shake my mom harder. But her flesh is so cold to the touch, this can’t be normal. She has no more warmth left in her body.
This…can’t…be happening.
“Mom!” I speak louder, my voice desperate. Chill runs down my spine and desperation courses through my veins. Fear locks itself inside me, clawing right under the surface.
But I can't’ lose my shit right now. I can’t. I have Naomi; I need to focus on her.
With shaky breaths, I reach forward and place my finger right under her nose. Waiting for any sign of life.
Hopelessly, I check her pulse. Even though I know it’s no use.
The only thing that’s left here is my mother’s cold, dead body.
I wait for the anguish or misery that I’m supposed to feel — but I feel nothing.
Grabbing Naomi, I try to detangle her from our mother. She clings harder, refusing to let go. “Naomi, let go.” My voice sounds unusually harsh, not like me at all. The world is spinning, but I still feel… nothing.
“N-n-oo.”
My breath stutters.
And my heart shatters.
Her tiny, fragile broken voice decimates me. And I don’t think I will ever be the same again. The sound of her voice, the only time I have ever heard it, has ruined me.
Naomi finally lets go, and I fall back with her in my arms. I cradle her against my chest as she cries quietly. She knows.
She’s only four, but she knows.
Naomi cries, but I don’t.
I don’t because the only thing that echoes in my head is her voice.
I don’t cry because I feel nothing.
I don’t feel…because I can’t allow myself to.
Naomi needs me whole.
My sister needs me to be strong. For her.
I’m her older brother.
And now, I am all she has.
The day I pulled my baby sister from around the waist of our dead mother, I knew nothing would ever be fair in life again. Nothing would ever be right.
The only time my sister has ever spoken to me…was when I pulled her away from our mother’s dead body.
“You and Naomi were forced to grow up too fast,” Diane, our Jamaican social worker, says softly. “She’s still so young, and she needs a family. Someone who can be a mother and father figure to her.”
“I was both of them for her. I raised her,” I croak, my voice trembling. I changed her diaper as a baby, I made sure to feed her, I clothed her, I stayed up all night with her when she was sick, I read to her…I was everything she needed me to be.
I am the only person who can love her the way I do…because she is a part of me.
“And you shouldn’t have had to. You were — are a child yourself.”
I shake my head, tears burning the backs of my eyes. I didn’t cry when our mother died. They already separated Naomi from me. Foster care is a cruel system. But if they permanently take her away from me…I don’t think I’ll survive that. “She needs me. I am her only biological family left and you want to take that away from her? She belongs with me.”
Diane sighs, and I can hear the remorse in it. “Naomi needs a stable home and this is her chance.”
“But I told you,” I snap, hating the way Diane makes it seem like these strangers can love her more than me, better than me, “I was planning to adopt her once I turn eighteen.”
“Adoption has many strict requirements, Grayson. You can’t just adopt her once you turn eighteen. That’s not how it works. It might even take you years to prove that you can properly take care of her. Adoption is not an easy system to work with. She has a chance to have a permanent family right now, instead of staying in foster care.”
“And it’s not like I have a fucking choice,” I grit out, anger and hopelessness coursing through my body. “It’s not like you’re asking for my permission. She’ll get adopted, even if I don’t want it.”
Sibling separation is a sad reality of the foster care system.
Diane turns to face me. Her dark brown eyes are kind and full of sympathy. “Think of what’s best for her.”
“ I am what’s best for her.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Are you? Stop being stubborn for one second and think. What does Naomi need, other than you and the love that you can give her?”
She needs me.
But she also needs a stable home.
She needs me.
But she needs a family who can provide for her. Clothes and toys. Big birthdays and big Christmases.
She needs me.
But she shouldn’t have to worry about her next meal.
She needs me.
But she also needs adults who can be a mother and father to her.
She needs me…
But she needs more than what I can offer her.
Naomi deserves more.
She deserves what I couldn’t have…and what I can’t have.
A family that’s whole. A place she can call home. A family she’s proud of.
“It’s not fair,” I whisper brokenly. “She’s all I have left.”
Diane reaches forward and her arms curl around my shoulders, pulling me into her embrace. “What do I do if I don’t have her? Who am I if I’m not her older brother? I need her.”
More than she needs me.
The dam breaks and it feels like my soul has been wrecked by a hurricane. I am left broken and empty…
Tears slide down my cheeks and I silently cry in Diane’s arms. The mere idea of losing Naomi scares me. It guts me and the pain is tragically unbearable.
“Mikael and Rehya are wonderful people,” Diane tells me, as she rubs my back. Her touch is almost soothing, but nothing can calm the storm in my heart. “Mikael is my brother, and I know…trust me, I know they love Naomi as their own. She’s the missing piece of their family. They didn’t know they had been waiting for her, but the moment Rehya laid eyes on Naomi, she just knew. She said it’s an undeniable connection. Naomi gets along great with them, while they are fostering her. Adopting her is the final step of giving your sister the life she deserves. Mikael and Rehya are willing to keep you updated on Naomi as she grows up. Pictures and videos. We might even be able to schedule for you to visit her.”
My whole body shakes. “It’s her birthday today.”
“I know. They have made it official and will tell her today. A birthday surprise,” she explains.
A family for Naomi.
I let the tears continue to flow. My sister deserves this. Naomi has seen too much in her young life. And I don’t want her innocence to be more corrupted than it already has. She’s worthy of this kind of love. A family.
Her family.
I pull away from Diane’s hug.
And me? I guess…I will have to walk this path alone.
I watch Rehya and Naomi together. They are wearing matching braids and their smiles are so genuine — I know, in Naomi’s world, this is what’s right. This is her fairy tale, the one she deserves.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask, my gaze never wavering from the pair. “To show me this…and to tell me all of this?”
“Because I need you to see your sister happy. This is closure I think you need, so that now you can focus on yourself .”
Myself? What does that even mean?
Almost as if Diane can read my mind, she places a hand on my knee and gives me a gentle pat. “You are a good guy, Grayson. Despite who your parents are, despite your situation and how you grew up. You have a good heart. You’re smart and you’re strong. But right now, you’re still a child. Focus on your studies. Focus on your future. Focus on building yourself . You’re not your mother’s or your father’s son. Become the man your sister will one day be proud of. Prove everyone wrong.”
My father is simply a sperm donor at this point. Diane told me that he’s been in jail multiple times over the last decade, and right now, he’s serving a two-year sentence for illegal possession of firearms and drugs.
My mother was a drug addict and alcoholic.
My father is a convicted felon.
And me…?
Become the man your sister will one day be proud of. Prove everyone wrong.
Naomi rubs her eyes, sleepily, and then yawns. I fight the urge to get up and grab her like I always do when she’s sleepy. She’d fall asleep in my arms, as I read and rock her gently. Mikael moves forward before I can and he picks up my sister. He holds her on his hip, smiling.
My heart aches as I watch Naomi lay her head on his shoulder and close her eyes. There’s just something blissful to this moment, but it pains me. My body goes from cold to hot, then back to cold again. I feel feverish, but I’m also trembling from the inside. Rehya and Mikael look at each other with shocking gratification. As if gaining my sister’s trust is a blessing for them. And indeed, it is.
I see it now — what Diane has been trying to tell me.
Picking up the packet of pink marshmallows from beside me, I give it to Diane. “Can you give this to her? It’s her favorite and I bought it for her birthday.”
I smile, my heart beating in my throat. My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I refuse to spill any more. “It’s all I have.”
The marshmallows are all I have to give her.
Diane takes it from me, and then pulls me in her arms again. She gives me a tight hug before letting go. “You’re a good guy, Grayson. And I know, one day, you will grow up to be a fine gentleman.”
I can barely focus on her words.
I don’t know what to do with what she has just said.
A good guy? A fine gentleman? What is that even supposed to mean?
How can I be anything …when I just lost the sole purpose I had in my life?
***
Three weeks later
The sun has just set, and this place is already loud, sweaty and crowded. I walk deeper into the dark alley. The air is hot and musky, and the smell is almost pungent. But I don’t let it deter me. This place is a shit-hole, but it’s my only solace.
The only thing that feels right at the moment, even though I know it’s all wrong.
Flexing my fingers, I open and close my fist. I move past the crowd and stalk toward Roan. He has his messy blond hair in a man bun tonight. Roan sees me coming, and the smirk on his face is almost instant. “Put your name down for tonight?”
“Put me first,” I say, my voice harsher than usual.
I need this.
To feel human.
To feel alive again.
Roan nods, and then clasps my shoulder in a friendly manner I don’t like. I shake his hold on me, my jaw tightening. I don’t want anyone touching me. “You know, you’re too young to be here,” he says, eyebrows raised. “But no one knows that except me.”
“Does it matter? Does anyone care?”
He shrugs, his smile widening. “Nope. It’s all about the money. And you fight good.”
I know I fight good. I’m six foot two and still growing, and I weigh almost 190 pounds. I’m taller and bigger than most guys my age. No, I’m taller and bigger than most adult men.
The crowd parts for me, and the roars grow louder, like thunder to my ears. The sound vibrates through my chest, and I feel it with each intake of breath.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I don’t belong here, but it’s the only place where I feel alive. They say that pain is how our body tells us that something is wrong. But for me, physical pain reminds me that I’m not dead. I’m chasing something that I know is wrong: a compulsion that’s pulling me down a reckless path— but it feels so right.
I step into the middle of the fighting pit, waiting for my opponent. I’ve never lost a fight in the three weeks I’ve been here. I ignore the way the girls fan themselves as I take off my shirt. I’m not here for that.
A tall, bulky black man joins me in the center and the crowd goes crazy. We’re about the same height, but while I’m lean with muscles, this man is huge. I hear the bell, and then he’s lunging for me. My brain shuts down, and my body surges forward on its own.
We move in circles around each other, and I allow him to hit me twice before I jab my fist into his ribs. He grunts and his dark glare is sharp.
I ignore the roar of the audience.
I allow the fear, the anger at being separated from Naomi, and the unfairness of my existence fuel me. Violence surges through me, a blazing inferno. I let it all out and onto my opponent. His fist jams into my face, and pain explodes through my skull.
The agony keeps me going.
My muscles are tense, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My opponent is relentless in his assault, but so am I. The sound of fists making contact with flesh echoes in my ears. He pounces forward, and my gaze zeroes in on his vulnerable neck. Before he can hit me, I’m quick on my feet and circle away from his fists. He twists around, snarling. Without thinking, I jab two fingers into the side of his neck and he doubles over, choking. My knee comes up, slamming into his face. I hear a crack and then he goes down, his body limp.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His breathing is ragged. He’s not dead. But he won’t be able to move for some time.
My body is hurting everywhere. He got me good. I can barely walk without flinching, and my knuckles are bleeding. But I don’t think anything is broken.
I stalk away from the center, and some of the girls try to reach forward and touch me. But they stop when I direct my glare at them. Their sultry eyes and smiles do nothing for me. I don’t want anyone touching me. I hate it.
Roan hands me a stack of cash and I take it, before limping away from the crowd and the pit. I walk a few blocks away, until my body gives out on me. Moving into another dark alley, I slide down against the rough wall and sit on my ass. The fight has left me completely battered. Fuck.
My head throbs and my body is literally shaking in agony. Every twitch of my muscles has me wincing and sucking in a pained breath.
But it’s nothing compared to the harrowing feeling in my chest, and the absolute misery of my heart. I wonder if Naomi would be scared of this version of me.
Would she hate me?
Does it even matter now…?
She’s gone.
I lost her.
I lost the only family I had. The only family that mattered.
Leaning my head back, I close my eyes. I drift in and out of consciousness. I wonder how much trouble I will get in if I run away from foster care. I hate that place. I hate the feeling of being trapped, where I don’t belong. They’ve already moved me twice since I entered foster care.
Time passes, the hot summer temperature eventually turns into a cool night breeze. I don’t know how long I sit here, but I snap awake when I hear footsteps approaching me. There’s urgency in the sound of the person’s footfall. Whoever it is, is running as if someone is chasing them, and I blink, trying to see in the dark.
My gaze falls on a womanly figure, but I can only see the shape of her body in the shadows. She’s a few feet away from me, leaning against the wall. Her hand flutters to her chest and her breathing is ragged. I can hear it from here. She fumbles with something and then I see a light. She’s using her phone as a flashlight.
“Shit,” she swears softly under my breath, speaking to herself. I don’t think she even realizes that I’m here. “I almost got caught.”
I drop my head low, and my hood gives me the perfect cover. She can’t see my face like this. She brings her phone up, as if to give light to the alley. And that’s when she finally notices there’s another person present, other than her. Me.
She lets out a squeak in response. “Oh, double shit.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I grunt out. The last thing I need is for a random girl to think I’m some kind of rapist, who is lying in wait in a dark alley for his next victim.
Yeah, hard no.
I’m a loser and worthless.
But I’ll die before I harm a woman.
“Uhm,” she drags out. After a long second of silence, she takes a tentative step forward. “I think you’re bleeding. Are you hurt?”
I clear my throat and straighten my back, but the small movement has my muscles protesting. “No.”
I try to hide my bruised, bleeding knuckles, but it’s too late. She’s already seen them. “You are hurt,” she whispers. “They look swollen and possibly broken.”
“Leave,” I bark out loudly. The last thing I want is pity from a random girl.
Miss Stranger makes a frightened sound in the back of her throat. She scrambles back, and then leaves. I chuckle humorlessly. Of course, she’ll leave.
I lick my dry, cracked lips. “This is not a place for you,” I whisper to her retreating form.
There’s no response, not that I expect one. She’s gone when I blink again.
My eyes close and I allow myself a brief repose. It’s late, and I should probably get back to the house. Amanda is gonna be pissed when she finds out I sneaked out. But maybe her daughter will cover for me again. Zoey, Amanda’s only biological daughter, thinks of the fosters as her strays. She has a thing for taking in injured animals and caring for them Apparently, the kids that her parents foster fit in the same category. Zoey is weird like that, but I think she’s alright.
I only think she’s alright because she’s covered for me anytime I sneak out to come here, to the fight pit. She says it’s a friend-with-benefits convenience. It suits us both. She needs a guy to practice kissing, and I need someone to hide my tracks.
But damn it, if Amanda catches me tonight — she'll probably have Diane move me to another foster home. I don’t blame her though. I’ve broken her only rule multiple times. But I guess it doesn’t matter if I’m living under Amanda’s roof or someone else’s. It’s the same shit.
I feel myself slipping out of consciousness again, but a soft touch on my hand has my whole body freezing on the spot. My muscles go rigid and I hold my breath.
“Oh wow,” she whispers, the familiar voice from earlier, “you’re really banged up. Did you get jumped or something?”
She’s back…
I open my eyes, and the first thing I see is silky blonde hair.
Her phone is on the ground beside us, and her flashlight is on. It gives me enough light to take in the girl kneeling in front of me. She’s young, maybe around my age.
Why is she back?
She grabs my hand in hers, and I flinch. My knuckles are bleeding, the skin torn apart. Miss Stranger takes a bunch of stuff out from the plastic bag she has, and that’s when I realize why she returned. She left earlier to go to the pharmacy, and now she’s back with a few first-aid items. I can’t bring myself to move as she uses the antiseptic wipes to clean my hands. It stings at first, but I barely even notice it.
Dazed and confused, my brain stutters. My body locked tight, against my own accord.
She’s touching me so naturally, as if she has every right to. And I can’t move.
My heartbeat echoes in my ears. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Maybe it’s the way she’s so gentle, cleaning my wounds with utmost care, that stops me from snapping at her for touching me so easily. Without my permission.
She has a round face, and her eyes are a darker shade of gray. There are tiny freckles on her nose, and there’s a mole above the right corner of her upper lip.
Why is she here? Why is she touching me? Why is she bandaging my wounded hands? Who is this girl? I have so many questions, but I can’t fucking speak. My tongue is heavy in my mouth and it feels like my throat has swelled up.
But when she reaches for my face, I flinch away and keep my head low. Miss Stranger sighs and goes back to my bruised hand.
“Out of all the moments I can rebel, this is when I decide to do it. Helping a random stranger in a dark alley. I’m practically begging to get killed at this point,” she mutters under her breath.
I’m confused. Is she talking to me or herself? “I can hear you.”
“I know.” She’s gentle as she puts a band-aid over the cut on my arm. “There, all done. You’re welcome. I did what I could, but you should probably get checked out by a doctor. And here are some meds you can use. It’s probably going to hurt worse tomorrow.”
The sound of distant voices approaching snaps me out of whatever daze I was in. I push myself up, and stand on my two feet. Miss Stranger does the same. Now that she’s this close to me, I can see her better. She’s lithe and has to be around five foot seven. She’s tall, but still petite compared to my height and build. Everything about her screams expensive. The way her silky blonde hair is done, her shiny nails, her tight dress and her pretty heels.
What is she doing here? All alone, at night? In a dark alley, with me? Does she not realize how dangerous this is?
Footsteps grow closer and then I hear a man’s voice, rough and desperate. “She has to be somewhere around here. We’re so fucked if we don’t find her.”
She releases another oath under her breath. “Ah, hell. They’ve already caught up to me.”
Is she running away from someone?
Frantically, she flips her phone over and turns off the flashlight. We’re instantly sucked into the darkness once again. She wobbles unsteadily on her heels and leans into my body.
My muscles tense. “Excuse me?” I croak, my voice grumpy and filled with uncertainty.
She takes me by utter surprise when her hand comes up and she slaps it over my mouth. “Shh!”
The audacity, what in the world is wrong with this girl?
My gaze lingers over her face. I can’t see much in the darkness, but I know the moment our eyes meet for the first time. I feel it.
Time stands still for a mere second.
One breathless moment.
Her chest heaves, and her breathing stutters.
Her fingers twitch over my mouth, but she doesn’t remove her hand. She’s too close, I don’t like people touching me. But why can’t I fucking move ? Miss Stranger scrambles away from me. Her hand flutters to her chest, and then she scratches her neck. The lines of her bodies are riddled with signs of nervousness. “I’m sorry,” she grumbles. Her head moves to the end of the alley, where those men have disappeared. Her eyes search for something and then she grimaces. “Uhm, I have to go.”
I watch as she stalks away, her heels clacking against the uneven ground. She looks back over her shoulder, and our eyes meet for a second time tonight. There’s a slight twitch of her lips, and I almost miss the tiniest smile.
Her shadow disappears and with it, the stranger who was kind to me for a minute.
I’m never going to see her again.
We belong to two opposite sides. She’s rich, probably Daddy’s little princess.
I’m the guy who will stay forgotten in foster care.
The underserved and worthless loser.
Miss Stranger and I don’t belong in the same axis. In the same damn world.
But I’ll probably never forget her one act of bold kindness.