Page 55 of Absolution

What do I know about a kid his age? What do they like? Dislike? My lack of childhood was seriously hindering my communication skills right now.

I study his face up close, and notice how similar his features are to mine. His tousled curls are like dark tendrils on the top of his head. The deep brown hues of his eyes match the lightly tanned color of his skin. Even the slight upturn of his nose, reminds me of myself. I didn’t need the results from my DNA test to know that he is my brother.

“Are you really my sister?” he nervously stutters.

“I am.”

“Why didn’t mama tell me about you if you’re my sister?” he asks, looking into my eyes with sadness clearly painted in their dark hues.

“Mom and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things. I hadn’t spoken to her in a long time.”

“Oh,” he adds. “Mama could be like that sometimes.”

“Yeah, she could. I may not have good memories of her, but I bet you do,” I state, in hopes of him giving me a glimpse into his relationship with her.

“Mama was always busy,” he offers. “I spent a lot of time alone.”

Those few words shatter my heart. My mother’s parenting skills had obviously not improved the second go around. I observe him for a few moments as silence settles between us again, looking for signs of further abuse by our mother. The skin on his arms, neck, face, and hands are unmarred. I let out a breath of relief.

“Can you tell me a little about yourself?” I hopefully inquire. “Do you have any hobbies?”

“I guess so,” he answers. “I like to watch Marvel movies and play video games. And I like to watch WWE, when my foster dad lets me.”

The mention of my father in that capacity sends an instant coil of rage into my hands. I try my damnedest to keep it at bay in front of Asher.

“I like watching wrestling, too. Who is your favorite wrestler?”

“I like John Cena. He’s pretty cool,” he offers with a flicker of promise in his eyes.

“I like Roman Reigns.”

Asher’s eyes light up, when he realizes that my interest in something he likes isn’t fake. Like me, I could see a fraud from a mile away.

“He’s kind of a jerk. How could you like him?” he protests. “John Cena is a good guy, you should be rooting for him.”

“Why don’t you tell me more about him? Maybe you can convince me to change my mind.”

Asher smiles, and starts in on all of the wrestler’s attributes that should make me like him, including his hot girlfriend. I could only smile back as his animated reasoning for liking a man portraying a fictional character; it also helped drop his guard. For nearly two hours, we talk about wrestling and some video game that I could barely follow his explanations about. I didn’t care that our small talk was about silly things because I was here with him.

Before long, we were laughing at the jokes he started to tell me. His silliness was a breath of fresh air in my life. His smile and laugh were addicting, and each second I was able to listen to him chatter on or laugh was a blessing. But like all good things, it had to come to an end.

“It’s time to go, Asher.” She tells him, and his frown returns. He looks to me, and my heart sinks. The time we were given was far too short, and I didn’t want it to end.

Nicole waves for him to get up, and I follow suit. We start for our respective vehicles, but Asher stops and runs back to me. His small arms encircle my waist as he grips me as hard as he can. Nicole watches from the background, and taps her watch impatiently.

“Hey Asher,” I whisper to him, pulling him away from me. “This is just the beginning. How about next time we play that video game you were talking about? Maybe you could let me win.”

He smiles up at me and nods. Without another word, he pivots and goes toward Nicole. I watch as they pull away from me. The piece of my heart that wasn’t with Ratchet was now attached to Asher, and I was forced to watch it drive away from me.

“Soon,” I whisper to the world around me. “Soon we’ll be together again.”

Gathering all my strength, I force myself into the truck and head home. My mind remains focused on every single thing Asher said to me to the point that I don’t even notice the flashing red and blue lights behind me.

“Shit.” I exclaim, pulling over to the side of the road. “Don’t tell me that I spaced a stop sign.”

The officer pulls up behind me, and walks to the driver’s side of my car. He taps on the glass, and I hand crank down the window.

“Can I help you, officer?” I politely offer. “Was I speeding?”

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