On this timeline though, sometimes—all the time—I extend it to the right. I write years that haven’t started and won’t for a long time, and I plan things out. I wasn’t supposed to see him again until next year, which would have been five years later, because that was going to be the year that I was finally over him. The year I didn’t miss him anymore and didn’t get sad because he’s not next to me in bed.
But then I’d cross that out and make it the year he came back to me. So, technically, he’s early. And I suppose I should be happy about it. Iamhappy about it, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make him work for this—for us.
CHAPTER 4
Christian
In desperation, I’ve come to use the bathroom and brush my teeth at the gas station. It really is the cleanest and best smelling gas station I’ve ever encountered and it’s because Terrance, the owner, is a clean freak. Always has been since I was a kid, when I used to come in here with sticky fingers from ice cream, looking for candy.
I would touch the candy displayed beneath the counter, searching for one I really wanted, and when I handed it to him, he cringed. Every time. It was father-like, truly. He’d wipe my hands, the candy, then the counter with a wipe. I’ve seen him scrub at the floor on his knees several times.
Terrance is a hard working man and one I’ve admired since I was old enough to understand what it meant to have a job. But he isn’t too happy with me these days.
I step into the mini mart with my small bag of toiletries, the bell above announcing my arrival obnoxiously loudly. His head snaps up and his eyes narrow.
“Calloway,” he says.
“Mr. Holt.”
Terrance sighs. “Here for more candy before you run off again?”
“I deserve that,” I rasp, leaning on the counter. “I just need to use your bathroom.”
I wait patiently for his answer while he inspects every inch of me. I do the same. There are more white streaks in his hair, which he’s grown out into a short afro, and the crows feet around his eyes are more prominent. It suits him.
“I’ve lost the keys.” He shrugs.
My eyes flit to the keys on the counter with a tag that reads,bathroom. “They’re right there.”
Mr. Holt groans. “Fine.”
I take the keys, relieved that maybe I can trim this stubble before it gets too long and brush my teeth. “Thank you. And I’m sorry,” I say. “For whatever…I did.”
“It wasn’t to me.”
“I know.”
“That girl stayed here, suffering in silence,” Terrance says, tapping his pointer finger onto the counter. “She loved you more than anything and all she wanted was for you to be happy and healthy. She wanted you to get help.”
My eyes drop to my feet and I kick the tile with the toe of my shoe. “I know.”
“And get out of that suit, boy,” Terrance laughs. “You look ridiculous.”
I laugh with him and finally meet his eyes. “This is all I have.”
“You have money,” he states. “Go shopping. And go brush your teeth, your breath stinks.”
“Missed you too, Terrance.”
He grunts and waves me off.
The suit is still on but with no jacket—I’m just glad I got to brush my teeth and shave. My sleeves are rolled up and the top buttons are undone, and I’m sweating through this shirt.
The air conditioning in my car is at its highest as I drive and ruminate on a plan to get her back. Or at least get her to believe me when I say I’m staying for good—when I say there is nothing more important than her and us. I need a plan thatworkseven though I have done nothing to prove myself yet. If I were her, I probably wouldn’t be able to look at me. I can barely stand my reflection most days as is.
I should not have allowed my mother to dictate my life the way she did by forcing me out of Willow Springs and into New York after my father died. A father she allowed to beat me and a father she begged me to give half my liver to.
My family was complicated and despicable. Everything they did, they did it for their money and for the company that is now mine. I was simply an after thought—even as I was hauled to New York, and even when I nearly died. Finally, I set boundaries between my mother and I by telling her what she needed to hear.
