Shit.
I had to give my head a little shake to remind myself that wasn’t what I was calling about. Then, I said, “Hey, so, Harry, I, uh … I was wondering if you could maybe give me a ride somewhere.”
“Yeah, sure. Where did you have in mind?”
He had agreed before even knowing the destination.
Harry was, as I’d said before, a good friend.
“My mom’s place.”
It was then that he hesitated before saying, “Soldier … son … do I have to remind you how things went last time? I understand she’s your mother, and I get that it’s hard, letting go, but—”
“No, it’s not that. I don’t want to try and fix shit with her.”
“Then, what is it?”
I’d purposely kept the private investigation I’d been conducting to myself to avoid his scrutiny. He knew nothing, and in order for him to agree, he needed the truth. So, in as few words as possible, I told him about the things I’d recently discovered about my mother—the car accident and the boyfriend who had died. I mentioned that I’d met with Billy’s mom to talk about it, and that she’d implied the man could’ve been my dad, and that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to rest again until I knew my mom’s side of the story.
“I don’t know, Soldier …” Harry sounded uncomfortable and unsure. “You realize you don’t know that she’ll actually give you the answers you’re looking for, right?”
“I know. But if I don’t at least try, I’m gonna go crazy. I can’t stop thinking about this shit.”
Harry, to my relief, understood, and the next day, he played hooky from his household chores—I mean, vacation—to pick me up from my house while Ray was at work and Noah was at school.
I didn’t like hiding the excursion from them. But I knew Ray would’ve had something to say about it. I knew she would’ve tried to stop me—or worse, she’d have insisted on coming. It was best to tell her after the fact, and I told Harry just that when he asked why I hadn’t asked my girlfriend to give me a ride instead.
He eyed me with wary skepticism from across the car. “So … are you trying to piss her off by keeping secrets or …”
“I’m trying to protect her,” I countered. “She doesn’t need to get wrapped up in this shit any more than she already is.”
That was half of the truth.
The other half had everything to do with Seth and my insistence that he never see Ray and me together. But not even Ray’s mother knew about the ongoing situation with Seth, and I didn’t feel it was my place to tell Harry.
“You can’t protect everyone, you know,” Harry replied, eyeing me like there was something more on his mind, but wouldn’t say it.
“No,” I agreed. “But I can protect her … and Noah.”
“You must really like her, huh?”
He spoke to me the way I imagined Grampa would’ve had we made it to the point of girlfriends and relationships. And I couldn’t help but wonder if David Stratton would’ve spoken to me that way, too, had he been given the chance to be my father. Had he been allowed to live.
“Something like that,” I muttered, looking out the window and wondering if Ray maybe felt the same way about me—something like like, but … more.
***
“You want me to come up with you?”
Harry pulled into a spot in the parking lot adjacent to the building. It had only been months since I'd been there last, but, man … the grass was longer, the weeds were bowing against the sidewalk, and the paint had chipped more off the windowpanes and front door.
Where the hell was the landlord? At what point had he stopped giving a shit about keeping the place maintained? And why? I knew the guy had been old when I was a kid, and that would only make him older now—if he was even still alive. It was possible that he just couldn't handle the responsibility anymore. But how had nobody in this place stepped up to the plate? How did nobody have any sense of pride in the place they lived in—even if it was a shitty hole-in-the-wall?
Anger and disappointment tugged at the corners of my mouth as my eyes drifted toward my mother's dirty, dingy window. “Nah,” I muttered, answering Harry's question. “I got this.”
“You sure? Because, Soldier, if you need me—”
“Harry,” I interrupted, turning to face him, “you being here is enough. Just wait for me, okay? That's all I'm asking.”
He responded with a gentle nod. “You got it, buddy. And, listen, if you do need me—”
“I know. You're right here.” I patted his shoulder, filled with so much gratitude for this unlikely friend. So thankful to have him in my life, helping me and being there when nobody else was. “Thank you.”
He forced a smile, deepening the lines on his face. Reminding me that he was much older now than he had been when I first met him years ago.
With a deep breath, I left the car and headed for the main entrance of the apartment complex. The place had always lacked in any semblance of security. Since we'd moved in, the main door had never been locked, and there weren't any functioning security cameras on the grounds. So, I wasn't surprised to find it unlocked now, but the fact that the knob no longer turned or clicked shut was disheartening.
“What the fuck?” I muttered, entering the hall and surveying my surroundings.
The overhead bulb, hanging just above the doorway, flickered in response as I walked toward the staircase, stepping over shreds of debris, empty cigarette packs, and the occasional plastic bag. The stairs creaked beneath my feet, and the banister rocked under my grip. Zoning would have a field day in this place, if they gave half a shit. The whole building would likely be condemned, and all of these people—whoever was left—would have to find somewhere else to squirrel away their drugs and whatever else they were up to.
Nothing good—that was for damn sure. Nobody in this building was ever up to anything good.
Three floors up, I found myself at my mother's door. I stared ahead at the slab of steel and its chipped-paint facade, realizing in the matter of a millisecond that I was scared to knock.
Would she answer? Would Levi? And what the hell would I even say? I mean, shit! It had felt so important to be here, to see her, to confront her about the past, and I'd gone over the words a thousand times on the two-hour-long ride while Harry tapped along to some classic rock and told me about his new power washer. But now, facing the worn and weathered door I'd once passed through hundreds of times, my mind was a clean, blank slate.
Go back down, get in Harry's car, and get the hell out of here.
But what about getting answers? Harry would ask if I talked to her. What the fuck would I say?
Tell him nobody was home. Tell him it—
Voices came from the other side of the door. Muffled words, spoken in harsh tones. One of them was my mom—I knew that—but who were the others? There was one—no, two men with her. They spoke brashly, heatedly, as they came closer. Were they fighting, arguing? I couldn't tell, but they were heading toward the kitchen, nearer to where I stood, and when I heard the locks being undone, I bolted. Hurried away toward the stairs, ready to leave.