“Do you have to leave?” Declan asked.
Allie smiled. “Don’t worry, Declan. I’ll see you soon. Actually, do you want to drive me down to get my car?”
“Oh, that’s right. Your car is still there. Sure, why don’t we do that. And we can stop and get an ice cream on the way back, Declan,” I said, knowing that the promise of an ice cream cone would distract him from the fact that Allie was going back to her own house.
That Sunday, my parents showed up early afternoon and took Declan to the playground. I went for a ride, though it was very humid, and I was drenched in sweat before I’d even gone a few miles. I rode for maybe an hour, but then cut the ride short, went home, and took a cold shower.
I was just getting out when I heard my parents and Declan come back. I could tell the heat had tired Declan out, too, so I brought him up to his room and put him down for a nap, the fan pointed straight on him. When I went back downstairs, my parents were sitting out on the deck, under the umbrella, drinking glasses of lemonade.
“He’s tuckered out,” I said, sitting down with them. There was a slight breeze, which, while not entirely refreshing, at least moved the warm air around a little.
“He had a good time. We made sure he stayed hydrated,” my mother said. She set her glass down. “Declan said his teacher stayed over here the other night?”
“His teacher, our neighbor,” I said. I nodded in the direction of Allie’s house. “There was a bit of an incident at the fundraiser, and I thought she should stay over, just to be on the safe side.”
“Is everything all right?”
“They let someone ride one of the jet skis who shouldn’t have been on it, and she ended up colliding with Allie, and she hit her head. But she’s fine.”
“Oh, my.” My mother shook her head. “Those things can be very dangerous.”
“Not if you know how to use them properly, which this person didn’t. Everyone is lucky that nothing more serious happened.”
“That was nice of you to let her stay here like that.” My mother sighed and rubbed her eyes.
“Everything okay?” I asked. “You’ve seemed kind of... I don’t know, like something’s been bothering you.”
My mother pursed her lips and frowned, a sure sign that something was not actually okay.
“We saw Sam today,” she said softly. “At the grocery store. He works there now. The one over in Wakeby. We had just stopped on our way over to get some of those cookies that Declan likes.”
I nodded. “How’s he doing?”
“I didn’t talk to him,” she said, shaking her head. “No, we didn’t talk to him. He was bagging groceries in another line, and I happened to see him so we just went and did the self-checkout. I think your father wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.” She shook her head again. “I didn’t think he’d be able to work. Even something like bagging groceries. That surprised me.”
Sam Powell had been my little sister Marissa’s boyfriend, a kid from the wrong side of the tracks if there ever was one. He’d gotten the shit kicked out of him not long before my sister got sent away, effectively ending their relationship. The beating he took had caused him permanent brain damage, though I had a feeling that if she were alive today, none of that would have mattered to Marissa, and she’d still be with him.
“Do you think I should have talked with him?”
“Only if you wanted to,” I said.
She gave a short, strangled-sounding laugh. “Wanted to? What would I have said to him? That’s what I said to your father when we were finally out in the car—what exactly was it that he was planning to say?”
“I don’t know, Mom,” I said. I rubbed a hand over my eyes. This wasn’t the conversation I wanted to be having right now. Or ever, really.
I was saved, though, when my father asked me how the practice was going, and we started to talk about that, instead. The conversation then moved on to the weather, to sports, to how Declan was doing in school. And then Declan was up from his nap, a little bleary-eyed at first, his hair sticking up on one side of his head.
“What do you feel like doing for the rest of the day, buddy?” I asked.
“Can we get ice cream?”
“I did promise him we could get ice cream,” my mother said. “We were going to stop on the way home, but I could tell that he was too tired.”
“Too tired for ice cream?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I’m not too tired anymore! Look how much energy I have!”
And Declan shot off my father’s lap and started racing around the backyard like a pinball.