Page 28 of Bad to the Bone

“It’s gonna be great for you, Aunt Kim.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “It’ll be great to be running towards something instead of just running away.”

The smile fades from her face as soon as the words land.

“Not talking about it doesn’t make it not true, right? We aren’t moving on. We’re escaping a burning building.” Saying the words out loud makes the pain a little more manageable.

“And?”

“And your mom was a terrible sister, and a miserable human being.”

She winces a little at that, but doesn’t back down.

“And?”

“And I love Zayne Turner, even if that does turn the family tree into a circle. And, I am going to miss him.”

By this point we both have tears in our eyes. This is the end of this chapter at least. From here on out we are both moving in unknown directions. Neither one of us knows what the future will hold. Looking around the house at all of the half full boxes triggers an unexpected bout of nostalgia. I know I’m not alone in my thoughts as I catch a glimpse of the wistful look on Shannon’s face.

“Remember when we first moved in?”

“Yeah,” she says, her too blue eyes sweeping around the room.

“We really made it, didn’t we? I mean, we became a family, a real family.”

“We were always family, Aunt Kim.”

“Yeah, but not like this. After your mom and what’s-his-face died, I think it just blew a hole right through the middle of everything. I wasn’t really sure I could hold it together. I’m so lucky to have you around.”

“Me too.”

We stand shoulder to shoulder in silence, both of us caught up in our reflections of that moment. Both of us had suffered a devastating blow and we were both just trying to find a new normal, something that we could live with and rely on. Neither one of us had been sure that this was the right decision. I just barely managed to convince the court that I was a better option than foster care. In a way, this moment isn’t all that different from that one. Whether we meet success or failure, we are moving forward, together.

Just the two of us.

“Okay, that’s enough of that. I’m going to sign this and run it out to the post office. I want to fax it and then send the paper copy certified. You, my dear, have the night off. Order us some delivery. Make it nice and fattening. This is a celebration after all!”

I grab a pen from the drawer and sign the contract using big, loopy letters, just the way Mia taught me. The ink glides across the paper effortlessly, and dries a little slower that I’m used to, sinking into the paper itself rather than floating on top. I look down at the pen in my hand and realize why. It’s not mine. It’s Zayne’s. A fountain pen his grandfather left him. The old fashioned kind with the shiny nib and sharp tip.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“When you see him in school, do me a favor and give this back to him,” I hand the keepsake to Shannon.

“I should keep it. Technically, he was my grandpa too,” Shannon says with a wicked smile.

“You two work that out. I’m not getting in between siblings.”

“The jury is still out on that one,” she says, hopefully.

“Honey, we both know that DNA testing is just a technicality.” I stuff the contract into my satchel and swing the strap over my shoulder. I’m not a purse carrying kind of girl, but a good, sturdy, workbag is like chainmail and armor for me. These days I carry it everywhere, no matter what I am doing. It’s always better to look like you are dashing into the grocery store between important meetings than to let everybody know you spent the last three hours crying and you’re here to empty the frozen food aisle of every variation of chocolate froyo on display.

I try to keep my head in the game as I drive through town. I’m going to have to find a new place to live in a new city. I saw the generous moving allowance and can’t decide if its generous or if the cost of living is just way higher in the city.

I chew my bottom lip as I sit at a red light. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge and I glance around, looking for the source of my response. That’s when I see him.

He is as tall and strong as I remember, but his face is gaunt, as if he hasn’t slept in weeks. His skin is pale and his shoulders slump forward as he walks. He keeps his eyes and head down, so there is no chance of him seeing me, and I allow myself the luxury of looking at him openly.

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