Page 12 of The Grief We Hold

Water pours down the neck of my coat. Fen begins to cry.

Tears sting my eyes, and I feel like crying too.

I drop to my knees in front of Fen and hug him to me, his little hands grabbing at my shoulders. “Can we go home, Momma?”

I know which home he means.

I cup his cheeks. “I’m sorry, but we can’t. It isn’t safe. But it doesn’t mean this is permanent. Better weather is coming. And in time, we can move if we really don’t like it. We can find somewhere else.”

My stomach roils again. I need a bathroom.

“You know what we need?” I ask. “Some dry towels and then a movie in bed to get warm.”

I don’t know if I’m trying to cheer him up or myself.

Maybe both.

Fen manages a weak smile. “Okay.”

I’m just about to cross to the other side of the street when a second truck looks as though it’s going to drive through the puddle. In an attempt to move us both out of the way, I trip over something. A curb maybe. The hard dirt does little to break my fall, and a sharp pain runs up my arm, causing my breath to catch. Fen and I end up on the ground in a tangled mess. I try toopen my eyes but can’t because of the rain. Somehow, the tears manage to escape anyway.

I don’t know how to break the cycle I’m in.

The truck pulls to a gentle stop without creating a wave, but I don’t have it in me to care. It’s shiny and black. A truck door slams, and it takes a minute for me to realize the driver is walking toward me.

“What the fuck are you doing out in this rain?” someone shouts in a gruff voice.

I sit, helping Fen to stand, then look up. Wraith looms over me, the rain soaking his blond curls and leather jacket.

Of course it had to be Margie’s son.

He reaches for me, unbidden, and manhandles me to my feet as if I weigh nothing.

With nowhere to channel all the emotions I have, I choose to aim my anger at him. “What the hell do youthinkI’m doing? I’m walking home after the politest reaming out from the principal of Fen’s school. We both got soaked by some dick who raced through the ginormous puddle your truck is currently sitting in. And I assumed you were about to do the same. In trying to move out of the way, I fell. So, if you’re done asking obvious questions, I’m going to get my son home.”

I grab Fen’s hand and start walking.

“Get in the truck, Raven,” Wraith shouts from behind me.

I turn and look at him. With his hair slicked back by the rain, he looks like one of those wild heroes with knife’s-edge cheekbones and a menacing glare. “I don’t need your help.”

“Can we go with him, Momma?” Fen pleads.

I shake my head. I’m sure he’s confused as to why I’m crying and why I’m turning down the opportunity for a ride when we’re both clearly soaked. I’ll explain when I get home and then?—

The vomit hits the pavement with a splash. My stomach revolts, cramping tight, as I throw up what little food I ate today.

My head spins, and the ground shifts in and out of focus. I try to push Fen back out of the way. He doesn’t need to see me like this. Even with the cold, I feel the prickle of sweat forming on my brow.

“For fuck’s sake,” Wraith curses. “I’m putting this guy in the truck. I’ll be back for you.”

I want to object. I don’t want to owe this man anything. The price he might ask in return is too high to pay.

“Is Momma okay?” Fen nervously asks.

Wraith’s reply is drowned out by the storm, but I pray to God it’s kind and age appropriate.

I watch miserably as Fen gets lifted into the large black truck that looks warm and dry inside. I take a step toward it, uncertain whether I’m going to climb in after Fen or tug him out so we can resume the miserable crawl home.

---