“Get the fuck out, Clayton.” When he doesn’t move, I take a step back and slam the door. I run to my bed and throw myself onto it, burying my face in my pillow.
A moment later, muffled voices come from the hall, then footsteps go down the stairs, followed by the front door closing. I release my vice grip on my pillow and look out the window. My eyes don’t leave Clayton as the palms of his hands brush against his cheeks. Snatching his shirt off the ground, he yanks it on over his head as he climbs into his truck, and his engine roars to life.
A light knock raps on my door as my mom peeks her head inside. My bottom lip quivers, and her expression softens as she crosses the room and envelopes me in her warm embrace. I sob into her shoulder, wanting to forget what just happened. She shushes me and strokes my hair. I can’t help but feel like I lost my best friend, and he didn’t even feel like I deserved to know he was choosing a different path.
I wake up the next day to my mom’s voice. “Sweetie, you’re going to be late for school,” my mom says, as she lightly knocks on my door.
“I’m not going.” I pull the pillow on top of my head, burying myself deeper into my bed.
Mom opens the door, and my bed sinks as she sits on the edge. “I’m sorry you’re fighting with Clayton.” She sighs. “I think this is the first real fight you two have ever had. I have no doubt you will work it out, but you can’t miss school.” She pulls my pillow away from my face. “You can drive to school in my car. Okay?”
Her saying I have to drive myself makes fresh tears spring into my eyes. Clay has always driven me to school. It’s another reminder that we’re fighting and that he broke my heart, and now, I can’t stop my brain from thinking about the possibility of something happening to him. I shake my head because I can’t do it. “No. I’m not going.”
She strokes my hair, moving strands out of my face. There is understanding in her expression as she looks at me, and I know her heart is hurting too. She loves Clayton like a son and would never want anything bad to happen to him. She’s always been the one to hold space for me to feel whatever I need to feel in the moment, but she’s also quick to help me move forward. “I’ll make your breakfast while you get dressed.” A small smile curves the corners of her lips, and she leans down and kisses the top of my head before leaving my room.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. I know it’s going to be a long and awful day, but I also know that there’s no way for me to avoid him for the last two months of school. I’m going to have to face him at some point. But as far as I’m concerned, I have nothing left to say to him. He ended our friendship a month ago when he enlisted and lied to me.
26
CLAYTON: THEN
Clayton:18 years old
“Renegades” by X Ambassadors plays in my earbuds as I run through the woods around my house. My eyes scan the fenceline as my pace slows, hoping to find Rylee outside somewhere. She won’t answer my calls or texts and won’t see me when I knock on their door. Don’t get me started on school, it’s been hell on earth. She has somehow gotten help from all the girls in our class to keep me away from her. She’s completely giving me the cold shoulder and won’t let me talk to her for even a second. During lunch, we always run together, and it’s been so long that I can’t remember a day we haven’t done that. My mind wouldn’t quiet, even when I pushed myself harder with each lap. When I get home, I get out of my truck only to start running again.
Slowing to a jog, I break through the trees toward the house. My dad isn’t home, but ever since my parents decided on a divorce, he doesn’t stay here most nights. There’s a white truck in our driveway, though. I speed up, wanting to catch Mr. Thompson before he leaves. Maybe he will give me a clue as tohow to talk to Rylee. Skipping a few stair treads going up the front porch, I open the front door.
“It will be okay. Janet and I will make sure you, Clay, and the twins are taken care of,” Mr. Thompson says in the living room.
I stand frozen in the entryway where they can’t see me around the corner.
“I can’t let you do that, Mike,” my mom declines.
“You can because you need a good lawyer.” His voice is firmer this time. “You can’t let him take your home, Mae. He’s already said he wants the house for the baby. The girl lives in a cheap apartment building.”
My eyebrows furrow as I step forward. “What baby?”
My mom jumps at my interruption. “Clayton, I didn’t hear you come in.” She looks to Mr. Thompson, then back to me. “Um. Why don’t you go get cleaned up for dinner? Mr. Thompson was just leaving.”
I shake my head, then turn to the man who has always been a second father to me. My gaze is firm. “What baby?” I ask the question, but the deep dread settling in my stomach already tells me the answer I don’t want to believe. I force myself to ask because I have to hear the answer aloud, otherwise, it’d be easy to sweep it under the rug and act like it’s not actually happening. I stare harder at the man I’ve known most of my life because out of all the people in my life, he’d be the one who’s completely honest with me.
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, son. It’s not my place.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes, then turns to my mom. “Just remember what I said.” The sadness in his eyes confirms what I already suspected to be true.
She nods, and I move out of his way. “Mom.”
“I mean it. Go clean up.” She turns, heading into the kitchen.
I follow her. “Does this have anything to do with why I found Dad seeing a woman before work in the downtown area?” I never wanted to tell my mom what I saw, mostly because I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want to hurt her, and I was just hoping what I saw was a one time fluke.
My mom whirls around. “What?”
I shake my head and pace the floor. My thoughts run rampant, and I need to focus on something else while I piece it together. “I was running one morning when I couldn’t sleep, and I saw Dad leave earlier than normal. So I—” I turn to look at my mom. “I followed him, and he went to this apartment downtown.” It was horrible watching my father embrace a woman who isn’t my mother.
Tears well in my mom’s eyes, and my shoulders slump as I wrap my arms around her. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.” She sniffles, pushes me back, and grabs my shoulders. “She’s pregnant.”
My hands ball into fists, but instead of releasing the tension, I hold them tighter as my anger grows.
How could he do this?
