Page 81 of The Serpent King

Mrs. Bohannon stepped inside and smoothed her hair as Dill closed the door behind her. “No—no, actually it was you I came to see.”

“Oh. Okay. You wanna sit down?” Dill hurried to the couch and moved his guitar.

“Maybe just for a minute. I really can’t stay long.” She sat down and took a deep breath. “How are you, Dill?”

“I’m…” Dill started to say that he was okay. But he couldn’t. There was something in Mrs. Bohannon’s eyes that was too raw and wounded to lie to. “I’m not okay. I’m not good. I haven’t been good for…since Travis.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She gazed off while she blinked fast. She looked back at Dill. “Me neither. I just needed to talk to someone tonight who knew him. And I wanted to see how you were. And I wanted to thank you again for being such a good friend to him. I know he didn’t have very many friends. Children are cruel to people who are different, and he was different. I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Dill began to choke up.

Mrs. Bohannon let out an involuntary sob and covered her mouth. “I did the best I could to be a good mother to him.”

“I know. He said you were a good mother.”

She bowed her head and covered her eyes with her hand while she gathered herself. When she lifted her head, mascara ran in inky streaks down her face. “One time—Travis must have been about six—we drove to visit my sister in Louisville. And we passed a shoe lying on the highway. Travis goes ‘Mama, won’t that shoe be lonely?’ He got himself so worked up about it, he started to cry. Well, of course Clint and Matt thought that was just the funniest thing they’d ever heard. They laughed and laughed. Not in an ugly way. Clint was nicer then. They just didn’t understand. But that was my Travis. I have so many stories like that living in me.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes.

“That sounds like Travis.”

“I always thought Matt was the brave and strong one and Travis was the sweet and gentle one. In the end, it turned out that Travis was sweet, gentle, brave, and strong.” She paused. “But they’re both gone now. I’m not a mother anymore.”

Dill and Mrs. Bohannon gazed at each other silently. Then they hugged for what seemed like an hour while they both cried some more.

Mrs. Bohannon took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. She glanced at her watch. “I’d better go. Thank you, Dill. For tonight. And for everything. I figure this is where Travis stayed for the time that—”

Dill nodded. “You’re welcome.” He walked her to the door.

Mrs. Bohannon started down the front walk. In the porch light, Dill noticed that her car was filled haphazardly with bags, clothes, and belongings. And he understood.

“Mrs. Bohannon?”

She turned, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m not going to see you again, am I?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Then there’s something you need.” Dill went back inside, went to his room, and grabbed Travis’s staff.

Mrs. Bohannon was still wiping away tears when he got back outside. Enough of her makeup had smeared away that he could see the bruises.

He handed her Travis’s staff. She hefted it and smiled through her tears. She tried to thank him, but she couldn’t speak. She touched his face and then put her hand over her heart.

“Good luck, Mrs. Bohannon.”

“Thank you, Dill,” she whispered. “Good luck to you too.” She carefully laid the staff across the front passenger seat, got in, and drove away.

Dill lay awake that night, thinking about exits and escape from pain. He envied Mrs. Bohannon.

The next morning, Dill couldn’t get out of bed. Not that he tried.

He heard the knock at his door, but he couldn’t summon the energy to speak. A moment or two later, his mother pushed her way in.

“Dillard?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you up yet? You have school.”