Page 109 of Absolution

I blink into awareness, the dim buzz of activity filtering into the crowded room. A man stands awkwardly near our cot.

“It’s fine, Doug,” Kyle says, sitting up slightly.

It’s not like we have a door to knock on. We’re literally sleeping in a room full of people in the same boat.

Doug scratches the back of his head. “Just wanted to let you know the main roads are starting to clear. Thought you would want to know.”

“Oh. Thanks, man,” Kyle says, stretching.

Doug gives him a nod, then glances at me. “You’ve got a good one,” he says, then walks off.

I turn to Kyle, raising an eyebrow. “What wasthatabout?”

Kyle shrugs, looking suspiciously sheepish. “Oh, nothing. I just helped write some names down last night.”

“You’ve been herethis whole time?” I ask, frowning.

He shrugs again, cheeks going pink. “It’s not like I was out rescuing babies or anything. I just… helped organize the list of evacuees. Passed info over the radio. Nothing big.”

I stare at him for a second, then smile, tired, but genuine. “That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

He looks away, embarrassed, and mutters, “Still. It helped me not lose my mind.”

We decide it’s time to leave Kerr. There’s nothing left to wait for. Kyle walks me to the monstrous silver SUV parked outside, rain still misting down from the grey sky.

He helps me up into the passenger seat. When he gets in and starts the engine, I glance around the spacious interior. “When’d you buy this?”

“I didn’t,” he says. “It’s my dad’s. Well, his rental.”

“Your dad ishere?”

“Yeah,” he says, flicking on the wipers, then glancing at me before focusing on the road. “Both my parents are. They’re, uh… getting a divorce.”

“Wow,” I say, quietly. “How do you feel about that?”

He’s quiet a second, then shrugs. “I don’t know. But… I’m happy for my mom.”

I turn to look at him. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

He gives me a small, self-deprecating smile. “Turns out I had the whole thing wrong.”

And then, without being prompted, he starts talking.

About his mom. His grandparents. How the stories he’d believed his whole life were wrong.

“I think my mom stayed, even after I was an adult, because she was scared she’d never see me again. And the sad thing is, she would’ve been right.” He swallows. “If it wasn’t for me thinking I had a heart attack, I might’ve never seen the truth.”

“What?” I ask, turning toward him fully.

“That trip I took with the kids to New York? I thought I was having a heart attack. I wasn’t, but it scared the hell out of me. Made me confront a lot of shit. I finally stood up to my dad. Realized I needed help.”

I shift in my seat, suddenly tense. “When you went to New York, huh?”

He glances at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me,” he says, tone sharpening just slightly.

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