The burley sheriff, slowly, dauntingly, made his way over to me. He looped his thumbs through the loops over his belt, and his mustache was so dark and thick, I couldn't see even a hint of his lips. He had eaten one too many donuts, and he was sweating through his uniform.
My stomach hurt. I knew I had gone too far. I should have stayed on foot and gone as far as I could, leaving Montley that way. I knew I would be reported and sent back to the hell house.
I had two choices. I could remain silent and sweat it out, or I could tell the sheriff exactly why I was running away. At ten years old, I didn't think being honest would lead to a good outcome, but staying silent seemed like a worse idea. It turned out; the truth set me free. Dale and Giana lost their license to foster children, and I was sent back to another group home.
The grass isn't always greener on the other side.
May arrived within ten minutes as she estimated. She must have been crashing for the night when I called her because she's in flannel pajama bottoms and a matching top. She crosses her arms over her chest, fighting off the brisk nip in the air, and runs over to us in flip-flops. "God, almighty. I don't know what in the world has gotten into her." She spots her lying in the same place she was when I made the call.
"Death can have a different effect on all of us, I guess."
"She's lost her damn mind, though. August doesn't even drink. Did she tell you that?"
"No, ma'am, she did not. We haven't talked a whole lot. I've spent a lot of time in that bar y'all were at the other night. I'm friends with the owner, and he feeds me after work. I'm not a big drinker myself. Anyway, August has been visiting each night for the last week, and I got the feeling she was going through a rough time."
"Oh, I remember you now. You were sitting a few seats away from us, right?"
"Yes, ma'am." I feel uncomfortable, and the short cough into my hand probably tells her so. "I ran into her at the funeral, too. I was acquainted with Keegan."
"Dear God. She told me she wasn't going to that funeral. I would have gone with her if I had known. She is so stubborn, Chance. She's nearly impossible. It's like she's in a little bubble and isn't considering the consequences of her actions sometimes."
I got the feeling the other night, May was likely the younger sister who didn't always think everything through. Of course, I'm sure both sisters believe they are the smarter, more responsible one of the two.
"Stress can do that to a person," I defend August. I'm not sure why I'm protecting her because I think it's dumb how she's handling her pain, but who am I to tell someone how to go about their business? I've known her for about five seconds, and I'm nothing more than a bystander, who she tried to kiss.
"It's stress she shouldn't have endured. Keegan was no good. He took advantage of her and wasted so many years of her life that she'll never get back."
"Everything in life is meant to teach us a lesson, though. What's the point of life if the universe doesn't send us challenges, right?"
"I think that's silly," May says. "We should find happiness and be carefree. That's the good part of life. I don't see the purpose of wasting time on the other stuff." I can tell there is no use in arguing the fundamentals of life with May, so I decide not to respond.
She crouches down in front of August and sweeps the hair that has fallen over her face. "Auggie, come on. You need to get up so we can go home." May tries shaking her shoulder a few times, but August hardly moves an inch. All she gets out of her is a quiet groan.
"I can get her into your car," I offer.
"That would be great. Thank you," May says.
I take the same position May took a minute ago, but I scoop my arms under her side and around her neck, carefully cradling her into my arms. She weighs hardly anything, even in dead weight. She's on the shorter side and slim—easy to carry to May's yellow Mini-Coop. I ease August into the passenger seat and pull the seatbelt across her body until it's secured tightly. Her head falls to the side, forcing her to breathe loudly through her nose. She's breathing at least.
"Is there someone at home who can help you get her out of the car?"
"Yes, sir. My boyfriend is there. He can help."
"All right then. Why don't I give you my number just in case you need help with her again?"
"Really?" May asks. "That's so kind of you. Do you like my sister or something? Is that what this is all about?"
May is freezing at this point, shivering and questioning me in front of the driver's side door. "I think your sister needs a friend. Not that I'm sure you aren't trying, but you know how family members can be assertive and sometimes a little too opinionated. Some may not respond to that ..."
"Like August, you mean?"
"Precisely," I respond with a smirk. "I couldn't help but overhear some of y'alls conversation the other night. I commend you for trying. August sure sounds like she's a bit of a handful right now."
"You got that right. Well, thank you for being a good guy and honest. The world needs more people like you."
I tip my head with gratitude and back up so she can get into the car. "Take care, May. Tell August I hope she feels better when she gets up."
"Will do. Good night, Chance."
