| |
The summer was quickly drawing to an end and I still hadn’t figured out what I was going to do with the rest of my life. My high school diploma was tucked away in a drawer to keep it out of sight. It seemed to stare back at me whenever I laid eyes on it, taunting me with my crippling indecision of what to do next. Most of the people in my class were preparing to head off to college. Some of them had already started at trade schools, while others had found decent jobs they planned to keep for a while. I don’t know how they figured it out. I wasn’t even sure what my options were, much less what I actually wanted to do for a living. Every night I laid in bed, tossing and turning, torn apart by the choices that would need to be made soon, whether I wanted to or not.
The only thing I was sure of, at the moment, was that I regretted not applying for college with one of the guys. Kevin had of course graduated valedictorian and was offered a full ride at a prestigious college out east in New York. His parents had already rented him an apartment in a high rise and he’d moved out there in early July. It was sad to see him go, representing the first sign of the old gang falling apart. Chris, on the other hand, was so busy delivering harder and harder drugs that he had little time for much else. He’d come out of a few close scrapes with bruises and cuts, but so far had managed to remain mostly intact. I wondered how much longer he could keep it up. It already seemed like he wasn’t part of the group anymore.
Kit, like most of the others in our class, had been accepted to a public university downstate with a decent scholarship. I’d promised to help him move down to his dorm in the coming weeks. He was excited to go, but nervous at the same time. This would be the first time he’d been off on his own, but he had been ready to get out of his father’s house for a long time. His Dad had become the token town drunk in the past few years and Kit was tired of it. I was thrilled he was finally getting out of there, but I didn’t want him to leave. Once he was gone, there wouldn’t be anyone left.
Somehow I had convinced my father to let me stay at home for the winter, taking a much needed break from school. He had been wholeheartedly disappointed that I hadn’t gotten a full ride on a football scholarship. I’m not sure how he expected me to get one when I rarely ever played. Still he made sure to raise his voice and call me lazy and pathetic, like he did every chance he got. Mom, as usual, stood by and said nothing, not daring to utter a syllable in my defense. So instead of staying home to be further abused, I’d run away to Kit’s house, only coming home when I needed more clothes or something from my room.
“I have no goddamn clue what to do,” I said for the hundredth time that week. “I need to get out of that fucking house though. That asshole is gonna wind up dead if he tries to hit me again.”
Kit, as always, was a great listener. “Please don’t kill your Dad. He’s not worth the jail time.”
“I suppose I could always just break his legs by accident or something,” I sighed. “Mom’s no fucking help. He could be coming after me with a gun and she’d just stand there.”
“She’s probably scared.”
“Of what?”
“You can’t be that dense Ry. If he beats the snot out of you, what do you think he does to her behind closed doors?”
The thought struck me like a blade between my ribs. “I–I never thought about that,” I muttered, my face flushing in anger.
All those years I’d been blaming her for never standing up to him. She just stood by and let him do whatever he wanted, no matter how horrible. I’d never thought that she could be the one he practiced on.
“I’ve never seen a mark on her...”
“Of course you haven’t,” Kit sighed. “That’s what concealer is for.”
“Should I do something?”
“You should get out of there,” Kit said, placing his hand on my shoulder. “She’s scared to death to leave and she’s not going to, you already know that. You have to take care of yourself. I wish you’d just move down with me and call it good.”
“Kit, we’ve been over this.” I tossed my hands in the air and fell backwards onto the bed, my head landing on his thigh. “I can’t just up and leave! My truck barely runs and I’d have nothing. And it’s not like I could live in your dorm. I’d be homeless.”
“We can figure it out as we go.” Kit dropped his gaze to me.
“I really appreciate it,” I sighed, “but I think helping you move is the best I’m going to be able to do. I need to find a school so I can get out of here. I don’t think there’s any other safe way out.”
“What about trade school?” Kit added. “It doesn’t take that long and it pays well. You could get a job while you’re taking classes and get an apartment or something.”
“Then I can be a blue-collar nobody for the rest of my life,” I scoffed.
“Well sitting here shooting down every suggestion I come up with isn’t helping you get anywhere Ry,” Kit replied with a sharpness in his voice.
“I know, Kit,” I sighed, letting my arms fall to my sides. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Kit punched me lightly. “Make a plan and stick to it.”
“You’re right.”
“I know.”
Most of our nights consisted of the same conversations. Somehow Kit remained patient through all of them, slowly helping me piece together the beginnings of a plan. I never thought about how worried he must be to be going off on his own. I’m not sure if I ever asked what his plans even were. I was always too focused on myself.
That Monday night, as we were laying on his bed playing video games and working our way through bags of junk food to keep up with our teenage metabolisms, we both heard a car pull into the driveway. Glancing out the window, I saw Chris stepping out of his old rusty Cadillac. He had a bag slung over his hunched shoulders. Even at that distance I could make out the dark circles under his eyes. We hadn’t seen him in over a month, he’d been so busy. As he made his way across the driveway to the house, I saw that his gait had changed, like he was limping. I thought maybe he was just tired until he stepped into Kit’s bedroom.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I cried out as he walked through the door, closing it slowly behind him.
There was blood soaked into his right pant leg below the knee. What I had previously mistaken for dark circles under his eyes was actually fresh, growing bruises. Chris dropped the tattered canvas knapsack on the floor and flopped into the old plastic chair next to the desk. He cried out softly in pain as he stretched his legs out, slumping down in the chair.
“Motherfucker jumped me.”
Kit immediately jumped off his bed and headed out the door. Returning a moment later with a small box and a bottle of iodine, he knelt down on the floor next to Chris.
“Just leave it, I’m fine,” Chris grumbled.
“Shut the fuck up,” Kit commanded, gingerly pulling of Chris’s right shoe. Gently as he could, he rolled up the bloody pant leg, revealing a large gash down Chris’s calf. “That is gonna need stitches.”
“Well I can guarantee you that’s not going to happen,” Chris scoffed, not daring to look down at his leg.
“Yeah we get it dumbass, you’re so macho,” Kit sneered, a look of disgust on his face. “Hope you got as much balls as you like to pretend because this is gonna hurt like hell.”
For the next ten minutes Chris did everything he could to stay still as Kit cleaned the wound thoroughly. With much cursing and carrying on from Chris, Kit finished wrapping the bandage around his leg and pulled the pant leg back down.
“You’re going to keep that clean and change the bandages everyday. And you’re going to stay off it until it heals,” Kit commanded, his finger waving in front of Chris’s face. “Understood?”
“Yes Mom.”
His amusement was short lived as Kit reached down and smacked the newly bandaged leg. “Good boy.”
“I swear to fuck...” Chris hissed through gritted teeth. “If I didn’t like you so much...”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Kit waved him off. “You don’t scare me Christopher.”
As terribly entertaining as I found this exchange, I was dying of curiosity.
“So what happened?” I asked, scooching forward on the edge of the bed.
“I told you,” Chris replied, pulling his glare away from Kit. “Some asshole jumped me. I was on a drop in the city and this guy just came out of nowhere. I don’t even know who he was, but he knew what I had and he wanted it. He got in a couple good swings and pulled a knife after I clocked him. Somehow I got the knife away from him, but he didn’t give up until I stuck it through his arm. Then he ran off.”
My mouth hung open in disbelief. If I hadn’t seen what kind of shape he was in, I would never have believed it. Chris was always one to tell tall tales, but not this time. Between the look on his face and the bruises deepening on his face, I knew he was telling the truth.
“I’m done doing all this.”
“You’ve said that before,” Kit replied, going back to his controller.
“I know, but I mean it this time. I’m done.”
“What are you gonna do now?” I asked, hoping maybe Chris would inspire a new direction for me as well.
“First I’m gonna go home and get some sleep,” Chris groaned, pushing himself up from the chair. “Then I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Gesturing down at the canvas bag he’d dropped on the floor he said, “That stuff is for you guys. It’s the last of my stash. I’m done with it.”
Chris waved as he limped out the door and down the creaky wooden stairs. A few moments later I heard the car door slam and the engine roar into life. I glanced out the window as the dirty Cadillac drove away, a trail of smoke behind it.
“Maybe I should be a drug dealer...” I whispered.
“Ryan... no.”