Tears and Dirt #3
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.”
I didn’t want to seem pathetic, but couldn’t stop my relieved nod that wouldn’t end.
Once delivered, Kristen ate her dinner in silence, giving me time to grapple with her revelation.
Back in the car, the drive was rather short. Short enough to tell me Kristen had taken me to dinner not for her, but for me. I needed as much time as possible to adjust to this life shift that was consuming me.
Parking her car in a dirt driveway, I didn’t even know how to look up and see where I was now. Where I was now supposed to live… without Noma.
“I swear I did right by you, Johnny,” Kristen promised.
It’s amazing the shifts that transpire during such times. One second, I felt like a man, ready to battle anyone in my way. The next, a terrified child.
Staring at my backpack, again, I was nodding, over and over, gripping the straps so tight.
I think I was trying to believe in all that Noma had instilled in me.
To grasp on to her hope and promise and find the strength to get out of the car.
I was trying to deal with conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm and suffocate me.
But I couldn’t sit here forever. I didn’t have that luxury.
Once I slid out of the car, Kristen grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and headed toward the front of a house.
It loomed in the darkness like a giant creature with wings held close to its body, watching, vigilant, almost as if it guarded the inhabitants.
Only two windows held light on the second floor, and the amber glow added to the feeling that this beast never slept since the eyes remained open.
A porch light flicked on as Kristen approached the door.
Knowing it was time to follow her lead, I swung my backpack over my shoulders and grabbed the duffel bag, all along battling anger, resentment, and frustration with every movement and step. By the time my feet reached the door, they felt heavier than lead.