Page 22 of On Your Life

My feet move before my brain can catch up. I run toward the house, staring at the bright red door standing wide open.

He’s going to come outside any moment now. He’ll be standing there flipping me off with that shit eating grin probably pissed that I left without him.

Instead, a man in a suit steps through the doorway. I stop halfway up the front steps. Someone says something to me but the words barely make it through the ringing in my ears. Heads turn in my direction as I stand there panting, trying to force words out of my mouth and finding nothing but incoherent thoughts.

Conner’s mom spots me through the front door. She stands from her place on the couch and walks toward me. Someone’s hand lands on my shoulder but I don’t care enough to see who it belongs to.

His mom stops right in front of me on the threshold. Her face is streaked with tears and she looks at me with a kind of care I have never known from her.

“Believe me now Fox?”

***

PRESENT DAY

I wake up covered in sweat. The nightmares continue no matter how many sleeping pills I take. Shadow’s yawn tells me he has heard enough to know that I’m up for the day.

I tried to pick up at work tonight but the captain said they were well staffed, and Riggs was happy to take B pod for the night.

Whatever, maybe the brief intermission from my presence will make her comfortable enough to let her guard down.

I scald my skin in the shower, hoping the heat will wash the thought of her out of my head. I have too much to get done today to have her ruin it.

The drive over is like second nature. I have made it so many times that I don’t have to think about doing it anymore. My hands know the turns before I consciously register them.

I haven’t been here since it happened. Crime scene tape is still around the trunks of nearby trees, faded and weather beaten now. A ghostly reminder of what happened here.

The creek runs in the distance, water slipping over the rocks in a rhythm that almost sounds peaceful. Until I remember what was found here.

I never saw his body, I couldn’t. I begged and pleaded with every officer I could just to be able to see my best friend. I didn’t believe it was real. I thought if I could see him somehow it would make sense. They wouldn’t let me step foot near the crime scene. Looking back, I’m grateful they didn’t. I don’t want my last image of Conner to be something terrible that I’ll never forget.

Wind blows harshly against my back as I make my way toward his house. His mom has decided to stay here for the time being. I don’t know if it’s the grief clouding my judgement or if she genuinely seems like she’s turned over a new leaf.

Impeccable timing Tina.

She has called me nearly everyday to check in. Even if it’s just a quick hello she makes sure she speaks to me. The thick voice she carried in her heroin induced state hasn’t made its appearance yet and it makes me happy, in a way.

It’s also fucking sad that this is what it took for her to stop being a constant leech on her own son.

A loud creak from the back door is the only thing announcing my entrance into the home. Dishes clink together in the kitchen.

I make my way around the dining room table and find her standing at the sink, washing dishes and humming a tune she used to hum when we were kids. Grief is fucking weird.

The house smells of floral candles and cleaning products. The woman hasn’t cleaned her own home in ages but she decides to start now. Maybe she needs to pretend everything is normal.

If it wasn’t for the pure fact that Conner took care of her I wouldn’t even be around her. But a small part of me is glad I am, she’s a small piece of him. I’m not ready to let go of every piece yet.

I also know he would want me to at least make sure she’s managing okay without him.

“Good morning Tina,” I say.

She turns from the sink with a huge grin at the sound of my voice. Bright yellow gloves contrast her dark blue shirt. She drops them onto the counter with a wet smack before coming across the kitchen to pull me into a hug.

“How are you doing this morning, sweetie? I wasn’t expecting you to stop by. I would have made you breakfast,” she says.

I answer with a shrug.

“Just passing through and thought I’d check in. Don’t worry about breakfast.”