29. Nash
29
NASH
1979
16 years old.
“ C ome on, Nash. Are you sure you can’t hang out for a little longer? Ashley and Nicole said their parents are away this weekend, which means they will have the house to themselves,” Hudson says from beside me, his voice whinier than usual. “I know how into each other you and Ashley are.”
I exhale sharply and jump off my skateboard when my house comes into view. The blue paint on the exterior is starting to chip in spots and the bushes in the front garden are getting so big they almost cover the view of the porch. Thick vines curl up the side of the house like a spiderweb and I’m sure in a few years they’ll reach the roof.
I turn to Hudson. “Hud, you know I can’t stay out too late. What if my parents come home early?”
He jumps off his skateboard, hoists it under his armpit, and flicks the blonde locks hanging from his head over his shoulder. The red paint on the underside of his board is flaking away in some spots, making it appear older when in reality, Hudson’s parents bought it for him three weeks ago. He rides that thing to death. “We both know your parents don’t care either way if you stay out late or not because they don’t care what you do.”
“That’s not the point.” I hate that he’s right. It’s not that I don’t want to go to Ashley and Nicole’s house because believe me, I do. I just don’t want to risk angering my parents if they do catch me out late. “You go and have fun with Luca and Axel, but I want to hear all about it at school on Monday.”
Hudson looks like he wants to say more but he doesn’t. He nods and drops his skateboard on the ground in front of him. “I’m sure Ashley will be disappointed, but I’ll make sure she knows how much you wanted to come but had other plans.”
I smile and walk backward toward the front gate. “And this is why you’re my best friend.”
“Just know that I’ll be thinking about you,” he calls out after me. When I spin around, he shoots me a wink and pretends to kiss the air in front of him. That bastard.
I flip him off, but he just laughs and hops onto his skateboard. I can’t help but laugh too as I watch Hudson ride away on his skateboard down the street and around the corner.
When he disappears out of sight, I turn and unlock the rusted metal gate. It creaks open and slams shut behind me. My eyes watch my sneakers as I walk along the pathway and up the steps to the porch. The front door is unlocked as usual, and when I step inside, I could hear a pin drop with how quiet it is.
Let me guess, Mom is at work and Dad is down at the bar with his friends.
Same old, same old.
With the house all to myself, I can sit in my room and listen to music. Axel gave me a new record from his father since he works in a record store, so I know what I’m doing until I need to go to the kitchen and find something for dinner.
We never have much in the fridge since my parents are never home. My dinners usually consist of white bread and maybe some butter if I’m lucky, or stale chips and cereal. But on really good days, there might be leftovers from a meal Dad cooked the day before. Although, those lucky days are usually rare.
I trudge up the stairs and into my bedroom. Despite being the only one home, I close the door behind me. It’s just a habit at this point.
My backpack lands on the old mattress with a soft thud and I rummage through it to find the record. I smile at the image on the cover of one of my favorite rock bands—Poison. I have been dying to listen to their new record. My dad first introduced me to them when I was eight and would play their songs every chance he got. Rock music is the only thing we have in common.
I waste no time setting up my record player and seconds later, a guitar riff blasts across my room, making me smile. With no one home, I can have the volume as loud as I want.
As each song cycles through, I find myself bopping my head along to the beat and pacing the floor, listening intently to the lyrics and instrumental. It’s a good way for me to learn all I can about the genre so that one day I can have my own music out in the world.
Once the entire record has played through, I smile to myself and flop down on my bed. The springs dig into my back, but I don’t care. Tiredness trickles into my body, and instead of fighting it, I close my eyes and dream about a life where I’m on the cover of a record, and my voice and lyrics are blasting through another kid's record player.
Feet pounding up the staircase jolts me awake. My room is pitch black aside from the moonlight streaming in through the open window, the beige curtains blowing in the slight breeze. My mind is fuzzy as I rub at my temples and sit up on the bed.
What the hell is going on? How long was I asleep?
My eyes snap to the bedroom door at the sound of shuffling feet. Frowning, I stand from the bed and gaze at the chipped door. Then, a sharp knock sounds across the quiet room.
“Nash Beck! Are you in there?” The voice is deep and authoritative.
What the hell…
“Y-yes,” I manage to call out after the words refused to leave my tongue. “Who are you?”
“I’m Jason Gideon with the LAPD. Can you come out and talk to us, please?”
My eyes widen. Why is a police officer in my house in the middle of the night?
Are my parents home?
Are they okay?
So many questions race through my mind at a mile a second, but I can’t just stand here with a policeman on the other side of the door.
As I walk across the small room to the door, my feet feel like they’re filled with lead, making each step more challenging. I’m afraid of what I might hear once I open the door. From what I’ve seen in movies and television shows, it’s not a good sign to have police barge into your house in the middle of the night.
It can only mean bad news.
I hope it has nothing to do with my parents or even my friends. The thought of something bad happening to them makes my stomach churn uncomfortably.
The door knob twists painfully slow, and the rusted hinges creak loudly as I pull the door open. Two policemen stand in front of me, looking down with hard eyes. One of them is tall with buzzed blonde hair, and the other is slightly older with slightly longer gray hair. Each of them have hard and focused eyes that pierce right through me. They’re both wearing black suits and the light shining in through the upstairs window allows me to see their gun holsters attached to their hip.
These men are the real deal.
“Nash?” the older man with gray hair says. “I’m officer Jason Gideon, and this is officer Spencer Walker. We have something we would like to talk to you about. Maybe it might be a good idea if we go downstairs first.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask as I follow them down the hallway and the staircase. The lights are on in the kitchen, but I don’t see either of my parents. “How did you get in my house?”
“The front door was unlocked,” Officer Walker replies as he steps off the last step and walks to the wooden dining table that can only seat four people. He pulls out a chair for me and I sit down gingerly, watching the men as they sit across from me. “When no one answered the door, we decided to come in and check for anyone home. It’s well after midnight, so we wanted to check to make sure everything was okay.”
“After midnight?” I ask with surprise. I don’t know when I shut my eyes after listening to the Poison record, but I must have been tired if I fell asleep fully clothed on top of the sheets and didn’t hear knocking at the front door. “Officers, is everything okay? Where are my parents?”
Jason Gideon exhales a long breath and clasps his hands together on the table. “Kid, how old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
He nods, licking his bottom lip slowly. “And where is your father at this hour?”
I shrug. “He’s usually at the bar down the street with his friends.”
Jason whispers something in Spencer’s ear before the younger man walks over to the landline in the kitchen. I want to ask him who he’s calling, but Jason pulls my attention back to him by clearing his throat.
“Nash,” he begins quietly, shifting in his seat, “this isn’t going to be easy to hear, but I am obligated to tell you since your father isn’t present. If he’s been drinking tonight then he isn’t the right person to explain the situation correctly to you.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I try to swallow it down but it’s firmly lodged in place. Just like the movies and television shows, a police officer needing to tell you something important with a quiet voice is never a good sign.
“W-what’s going on?” My voice is barely above a whisper and my entire body is wracked with nervous energy, my limbs vibrating as I attempt to prepare myself for what I’m about to hear.
“Nash, your mother passed away tonight.”
My heart stills in my chest. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. “What do you mean? What happened to her?”
Jason scratches the back of his neck and turns to his partner who is still on the phone. They share a long stare before Spencer says something into the phone and hangs up. The room is dead silent as he joins us at the table again, his eyes unable to meet mine.
“I’m sorry, Nash,” Spencer says as he finally lifts his pale blue eyes to meet mine. “Your mother was found murdered earlier this evening. I promise you that we’re going to find the person who did this.”
My heart hammers in my throat as I gaze at the photo of my mother hanging on the wall beside the run-down refrigerator. The wooden frame is slightly lopsided, but her bright smile still penetrates my soul either way. She’s holding me as a baby, with so much happiness spread across her face.
I don’t know what happened to make her resent me.
Was it something I did or said?
Did Dad ask her to hate me simply because he does?
Now that she is gone, I will never know. She took that piece of knowledge with her, forcing me to play the never-ending guessing game of what if. But she also took with her the nasty comments she would throw my way and the hateful glares she so often liked to give me each morning before she left for the day.
At that moment, my life has been changed forever. It’ll never be the same. I feel like I’m standing in the eye of a hurricane, but instead of chaos and destruction consuming me, I feel… relieved .
So much relief.