Abandon

Chapter Thirty

Nine Years Ago

I try not to cry as I ride my bike back to Grandma’s house – my house – but I can’t fight the tears. I don’t know what I just did to that girl, but I know I hurt her; and I know that neither of us will ever be the same.

I keep my hoodie pulled low over my face despite the fact that it’s a ferociously humid afternoon in the middle of September. Sweat drips down my face and neck. It even drips down my forearms and my hands begin to slip on the handgrips of my bike. But I’m hopeful that if anyone sees me crying on the corner of Avent Ferry and Gorman, they’ll think it’s just the unbearable heat that’s reddened my eyes and moistened my cheeks.

I make it home a few minutes past three in the afternoon. Letting my bike drop onto the parched lawn, I race up the porch steps and throw open the front door without regard as to whether anyone is standing on the other side. The tiny air-conditioning unit that juts through the half-open window has done a pretty successful job of keeping the house cool and I quickly peel off my hoodie to let the cool air wash over my overheated skin.

“Tristan! You’re soaking wet!” Grandma cries as she enters the living room from the kitchen, wringing her hands on a damp towel that hangs loosely from the pocket of her apron. “And you’re red as a lobster! We’re you riding your bike in this heat? What – what’s that on your T-shirt? Is that … blood? Are you hurt? Did your mother hurt you?”

For the briefest of seconds, I consider telling her everything. Then I think of that shotgun in my face, and the look on Grandma’s face if she ever finds out what I’ve done, and I know I’ll never tell.

“Got a bloody nose on the way over here,” I reply, smiling for the first time in weeks. “I’m okay now.”

She tilts her head as she reaches up and brushes my sweaty hair away from my face. “You’re not going back there, are you?”

I shake my head, too afraid that if I speak something may slip out.

“Good.” She pulls the towel out of her apron pocket and drapes it over her shoulder. “I just made some of your favorite lemon cookies and I’ll make you a sandwich. You must be hungry. Go on and take a shower and get changed.”

She looks at me for a moment and I have a feeling she wants to say something too. Maybe Noah’s mom has been here and she wants to reprimand me. Or maybe she somehow knows what happened at Elaine’s. Either way, she doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry, Grandma.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you.”

Something about these words gets to her and she bats her eyelashes to blink back the tears. “You go on and get clean.” I turn to head for the bathroom, but she grabs my arm. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?” I nod and she responds with a nod. “Go on now.”

As I make my way to the restroom, I peek into Grandma’s bedroom to get a glimpse of Molly. She’s sitting on Grandma’s bed watching The Lion King 2, but she whips her head around at the sound of the door creaking open.

Her smile beams as she shouts my name four times in a row. “I’m watching Simba. Wanna watch?”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“No, don’t go away,” she cries as I begin to close the bedroom door.

I open the door and she smiles again. “Come on. You can watch Simba,” she says, patting the mattress for me to sit down. “You can stay.”

I chuckle as I take a seat next to her and she wiggles with excitement. “Thanks,” I whisper. I think that’s all I needed to hear.