by Aria Grace
Dad said she was worried about taking care of her boys, so she socked away every penny she earned to make sure they’d always have what they needed. Unfortunately, what they needed more than their mom’s money in the bank was a mother at home. And when she got sick again last month, she stopped working altogether because she needed a more aggressive treatment this time.
That’s when Joseph started coming around.
I’m not sure if he actually gives a shit about his mom’s health and well-being, but he has taken her to the doctor a few times. At least that’s where I assume they’re going when he screeches to a halt in front of her house and honks until she shuffles out the door. Every time I see him treat her like that, I want to kick his ass. He has no idea how lucky he is to still have a mom. Mine died when I was young, and even now, I’d give anything to have just an hour or two with her.
Which is why seeing what he’s done to her kitchen is infuriating. There are empty beer cans and takeout containers on the counters, and the sink is full of dirty dishes. Obviously, he’s coming around more than I realized, which has me both surprised and concerned.
At the top of the stairs, I’m not sure where to go. “Mrs. Greenly,” I call out. “I have your water.”
“Bring it in, dear.”
Her voice is soft, but it’s easy to distinguish where it’s coming from in the silent house. Her bedroom is on the right side of the small hallway. Standing in the doorway, I do a quick inspection of her room while waiting for her to invite me in. The queen-size bed is neatly made, and Mrs. Greenly is curled up in a recliner by the window that overlooks the backyard.
“Come in, Dodge. Have a seat.”
After placing the vase on a doily on the dresser, I drag the wooden chair on the other side of the room closer to her recliner then have a seat.
I didn’t intend to stay and chat. But she seems so lonely, I just can’t leave her yet. “I hope the smell from the roses isn’t too overpowering.”
“Nonsense.” She looks lovingly at the bouquet. “They’re beautiful. Your father would be proud of you for coming.”
I merely nod. Dad had a heart attack while driving home from work. He died instantly before weaving onto the shoulder, so I never got to say goodbye. Neither did Mrs. Greenly.
“So, Joseph has been helping you out?” I give her a side glance, hoping I haven’t overstepped any boundaries by bringing him up.
Mrs. Greenly sighs heavily. “He’s trying. He’s just so busy that it’s hard for him to get over here. But he’s taking me to my appointments when he can and stopping by to have dinner with me.”
Yeah, I’m sure he is busy being an asshole on the streets downtown. He used to be a parking enforcement officer and seemed to revel in writing parking tickets. I once saw him stand next to a meter that still had a few minutes left on it, leaning against it with a cigarette in his hand, just waiting until it hit zero so he could write a ticket.
I’ve never understood why he was such a dick to everybody, and I never cared. But it pisses me off that he can barely make time for his mother even though he might be about to lose her.
“Well, if you ever need a ride or something from the store, you just let me know.” I pull out my wallet and find a business card for her. “You can call my cell phone anytime if you need anything.”
Mrs. Greenly reaches a frail arm out to me, and I take her hand.
“You’re such a good boy, Dodge. Your father did right by you. I hope you know how lucky you were to have him in your life.”
I nod and clear my throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I only wish my boys had a father like yours. Things could have been so different for them.” She coughs and suddenly looks exhausted.
“Maybe you should get some rest. I can come by later tonight or tomorrow to check on you.”
“Thank you, Dodge.” She closes her eyes and shifts her meager weight in the chair. “That would be nice.”
70
Nathan
There isn’t a direct bus to Boise, so I head to the nearest hub, hoping it will be easier to get home from a big city. I’ve heard Denver is a nice town, but by the time I get off the first bus after a nine-hour ride, all I want is to stretch my legs and find something to eat. Unfortunately, the thin coat I’m wearing isn’t thick enough to fend off the bite of the brisk evening air, so I’m faced with the difficult decision of choosing dinner from a vending machine or a hot dog cart.
Fortunately, I love hot dogs.
I order three with all the fixings and then check the ticket window to find out what my options are. The color-coded map looks like a maze at first glance, but after staring at it for a few seconds, the routes that will get me home seem to jump out at me. It’s almost six in the evening, and there is a bus to Las Vegas that leaves at seven and will get me to Boise by tomorrow night, or I can wait until six in the morning and take a bus straight up. I’ll arrive at around the same time but ten hours less on a bus sounds pretty good. Even if it means I’m spending the night in a bus station.
The first few hours pass quickly. Hundreds of people pass through the station, giving me plenty of opportunity to people watch. There are tired people who look like they’ve been on the road for days and families who look like they’re on an adventure. And then there are the people like me. Those who seem a bit scared and a lot lost as they wander through the station. Sometimes, they stop and buy a ticket to somewhere else. Other times, they just stumble to the exit as if this is as good a place as any to stop for a while.
That’s kind of how I’ve been living for the past few years. I left home without a real destination in mind. I just ran and hitched and eventually stumbled to a stop in front of an Omega House. They provided the shelter and security I needed, but until I face my fears, I’ll never be one of those smiling faces on an adventure. I’ll always be one of the lost boys just stumbling to a stop now and then.
I pound another cup of coffee to stay awake then head to the men’s room for the tenth time. Traffic in the station has finally started to die down. Buses still pull in every twenty or thirty minutes, but only a few people get off, and even fewer linger inside. They all seem to disappear as suddenly as they appear.
The bathroom is long and dingy with small tiles covering every surface except the toilets. I go to the last urinal on the wall and unzip my pants, uncomfortable with the way every sound vibrates off the wall, causing an echo. Before I finish pissing, someone walks inside. I don’t bother looking at whoever has entered. They’re there for the same reason I am, so I shake twice and tuck back into my pants.
I’m just about to zip up my pants when a deep voice startles me. “What’s the big hurry? I know you’re stuck here for a while too. We might as well have some fun while we wait.”
I slowly glance over my shoulder and see an older man with a thick beard and a leather jacket coming at me. I noticed him out in the main lobby earlier. He was also waiting in one of the hard-plastic chairs. “Thanks, but I’m not interested.” I step away from the urinal and try to bypass him, not even bothering to stop at the sink.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He reaches out and grabs my arm, stopping me just a few feet short of the door. “I’m sure we can work something out. We’re both men with needs. And I’ve got a couple bucks I can throw your way if that will sweeten the pot.”
I have to swallow back the bile rising in my throat. If he thinks there’s anything sweet about his pot, he is highly delusional. I shake my head and try to get out of his grip, even though he’s much stronger than me. “I have an alpha. He’s picking me up soon.”
The guy laughs, sending a shiver to run down my spine. “I don’t think so, kid.” He takes a few steps, dragging me toward one of the stalls. I’m about to scream when the door opens, and a janitor with a cleaning cart pushes through it.
We all look at each other for a second as the janitor pieces together what he’s seeing. It only takes a moment for him to figure out exactly what he’s walked in on. I’m terrifi
ed he’s going to back away silently and leave us alone, but he surprises me when he pulls out a mop handle and holds it up like a staff. “Whatever’s going on in here needs to stop. Both of you, get on out of here.”
I yank out of the man’s grip and run out the door, wishing I had a group of friends to blend in with for safety. But I’m all alone here. The best I can do is sit in one of the empty seats in clear view of the ticket booth and directly beneath one of the surveillance cameras. It’s not exactly safe, but it’ll have to do for a few hours. As soon as morning comes, the station will be full again, and I’ll be just another lonely stranger trying to get from one place to another.
I’ll be away from the predator who is probably still watching me from afar, waiting for his chance to pounce again. Although, even then I won’t be in a safe place. I’ll be heading toward a different predator at sixty miles per hour. I’ll be escaping an unknown threat to face the one I’ve been hiding from for years. The one who I’ve felt as deeply on the outside of my skin as on the inside of my body.
The monster who lived under my roof, always ready to pounce without fear of interruption.
The monster who shares my DNA.
71
Dodge
“Maryam!” I read the memo on my desk for the third time while I wait for my incompetent assistant to come in. “What is this?”
“It’s a memo, sir. The proposal meeting has been moved to tomorrow.”
I hold up the sheet of paper then crumple it in my fists. “I know what it says, but why is it on a piece of paper on my desk? When did we start sending paper memos?”
She shrugs. “Well, I thought it would be neat. I’ve been watching this TV show about an ad agency from the fifties, and they typed everything…with typewriters. I just thought it would be a fun change.”
I toss my head back and pinch the bridge of my nose to ward off the headache I can already feel building in my brain. “Mad Men? That’s what you’re doing? You’re trying to throw back to the fifties by ignoring our technology?”
“Is that okay?” Her voice is quivering, and I know she’s about to break down in tears. I really don’t want her to cry, but this kind of ignorance can’t be overlooked.
“Not really.” I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to find a calm tone to speak to her in. “I work at home at least half the week. I can’t actually see a memo that’s printed on paper and sitting on my desk. That’s why we have email…and online calendars. If you want to feel like you’re back in the fifties, wear a dress every day and set up a wet bar in my office. But no more paper. Everything must be online, so it’s not only documented and saved, but so it’s accessible to everyone…not just the people who happen to walk past it.”
“Yes, sir.” She flicks a tear off her cheek and looks at the ground. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“It’s okay, Maryam. Just make sure my calendar is up to date and get Victor in here. We’ll need to finalize the proposal today, so I can finish my drawings tonight at home.”
“Right away, sir.”
For the rest of the day, I pore over numbers and competitive projects to build the perfect proposal that our client can’t turn down. The university is building a new genetics lab, and my firm specializes in science and medical architecture. I’ve won several awards for innovative design, but every project is unique and requires a pitch that pulls at both their heart and their purse strings. Our clients usually have millions in grant dollars to spend on facilities, so the bidding process isn’t about coming in cheapest or even fastest. It’s all about offering a laboratory they can show off and use to recruit the most talented researchers and scientists in the world.
So Victor, my best account manager, and I give them what they want. The promise of a beautiful space with all the most modern amenities with plenty of room to grow as science changes. I just have to finish drawing the mock-up we’re pitching before my meeting at ten a.m.
* * *
After picking up a pizza and eating half of it on the drive home, I trudge inside my house for a shower before getting back to work. I could do everything on the computer, but that’s not my style. I like to do most of my presentation material by hand on a drafting table. For me, it’s faster and makes the client feel like they’re getting something special.
Something personalized by my hands.
Holding a pen between my fingers, I dive into the drawing I’ve been working on for days. The basic structure is complete, but I want to add in some of the custom workstations the client has requested. Of course, everything I do with pen and paper will be recreated by my online drafters for precise blueprints, but at this stage, they just want to see that I am offering something different. Something they haven’t seen before.
I’m rolling up the finished drawing and about to put it into a case when I hear a car pull up out front. It doesn’t sound like Joseph’s loud diesel engine, so I glance out the window to see who the visitor is. A white Camry is in front of Mrs. Greenly’s house, and there are several ridesharing stickers in the back window.
With a quick pull to the string on the lamp in front of the window, I turn out the light so it’s not so obvious that I’m peeping at Mrs. Greenly’s visitor. It would be embarrassing to be caught creeping on her home, especially when I see who climbs out of the back of the car.
I can’t believe it.
Nathan Greenly, the quiet boy who disappeared when he was only sixteen years old, is back…and all grown-up. He hasn’t changed that much since I last saw him. He’s grown a few inches, maybe hitting 5’10” or 5’11” now. And he has a few more pounds on him than I remember. But his uncertain stance and nervous bounce are still there as he stands in front of the front door of his childhood home. He hasn’t knocked or announced his presence in any way. In fact, it looks like he’s slowly inching away from the door instead of getting closer.
A window of an upstairs bedroom glows as a curtain is pulled back. Mrs. Greenly looks down at the son she lost so many years ago in shock. She stares for a moment before her hand covers her mouth and her shoulders shake. My gaze shifts to Nathan as he squares up his shoulders and steps up to the door, knocking several times before waiting for her to let him in.
I consider running out there to tell him it’s hard for her to get down the stairs, but by the time I make the decision, the door opens and Mrs. Greenly is falling into her son’s arms. It’s a sweet moment between a mother and son, and I feel like an intruder watching it.
They deserve some privacy, so I step back from my window and let the curtain fall into place.
72
Nathan
The woman in the doorway looks like my mom, but older. And not just a few years older, but much, much older. I don’t really understand since it’s only been four years. I expected a few more wrinkles or a bit more gray, but the woman in front of me looks tiny and frail and…weak.
Mom never seemed old before. She worked all the time and was stronger than most men I knew, definitely stronger than me, even when I was sixteen years old. She was healthy and active, not sickly and barely able to move. “Nathan, is it really you?”
Before I can even answer, she is pressed against my chest, holding on to me with more strength than her skinny arms seem capable of possessing. “Mom?”
“Oh, Nathan. I worried so much about you over the years. Why did you leave?”
I pull away and look down at her, still not completely convinced this is my mother. Is it possible I have a grandmother I never knew about? “Mom, you’ve changed so much…”
She sighs heavily and nods, still holding on to one of my hands. “Come inside, dear. We should talk.”
I allow her to pull me through the door, but I stop short once I’m a few steps inside and take a look around. “What is going on here? Were you robbed?” Her house is in shambles. Trash is all over the floor, and there are random boxes everywhere. Some are empty and some full, but there doesn’t seem to be any organization to how they’re spread throughou
t the entryway and living room.
She shakes her head. “No, your brother stays here sometimes, and he’s still as messy as he ever was.” She actually chuckles as she walks to the couch and wipes a pile of potato chip crumbs off the cushion and into the empty bag that was on the floor. “Come, sit with me.”
Just the mention of my brother has my stomach clenching. The whole reason I’m here is to confront him, but I’m not quite ready yet. First, I need some answers from my mother. “So, Joseph is still around?”
Her eyes narrow like she’s going to scold me. “Yes, Nathan. Joseph never left me.”
I throw my hand out, gesturing to the mess of her house. “Well, you probably would have been better off if he did. Look at this place. Why do you let him destroy your house like this?”
“It’s not usually like this.” She folds her hands in her lap then looks into the empty fireplace. “He’s just been coming around more often over the past few weeks…to help me.”
My mother was never the type to ask for or accept help from anyone. That’s when I really start to worry about what’s going on with her. Upon closer inspection, it’s obvious something is wrong. “Help you with what?”
After several moments pass, she tears her gaze away from the fireplace and looks me in the eye.
“I’m sick, Nathan. It’s bad. I’m not sure I’ll be able to fight it this time.”
“What do you mean? How sick are you?” I slide onto the couch beside her, ignoring the crunch of crumbs under my ass as I do. “And what do you mean by this time?”