Page 5 of Almost Him

This time is different. I know it from the second Mrs. Stokes follows her husband into the yard. “You can’t do this to us! Think about the kids, Max, my god.”

She sobs while he shoves an armful of things—clothing, it looks like—into the backseat of his car. He stalks past her, keeping his head down until he gets back into the house. She’s right behind him when he goes in and comes back out. He balances two large boxes that get deposited into the trunk.

She grabs his arm, hanging onto him for dear life, but he shakes her off like a gnat. “Max, please, tell me what I can do! You can’t leave us. What will we do? Please, I love you.”

Oh no. It finally clicks what I’m witnessing.

She continues to plead with him while he carries two more loads out to his car. My heart breaks when I see Oliver and Alden come outside. Are they going with him? Surely not.

Oliver grabs his father, and I can hear him crying. He’s begging him to stay. Whatever Mr. Stokes tells him isn’t anything he wants to hear.

What do I do? I want to go over there and comfort my friends. But it’s such a shocking, raw moment, I don’t know whether I should. Dad always says you keep family business private. Is it intruding on someone’s family business if it’s happening for the whole neighborhood to see?

Because I’m not the only one outside now. Tori gives me an uncertain wave from her front step, and Adam Underwood, who lives next door to them, has a front row seat.

I hover at my top step, unsure about what to do. If anything.

When Mr. Stokes has his last box loaded and starts toward the car, Mrs. Stokes’ behavior takes a sharp turn. She lets out a loud screech that stops him in his tracks.

“Go to your fucking whore then! Go and show everyone what a piece of shit you are! Abandoning your wife and kids for some bar slut! You cheating, heartless bastard! I hope your dick rots off!”

“Oh my god,” Tori whispers, joining me.

“We should do something.”

Tori shakes her head. “Mom told me to stay away. She’s watching from the front window.”

It’s the only parental advice available so I should take it. Tori sits beside me on the top step and slips her hand into mine while we watch our best friends’ family explode.

Oliver runs out to his father, who stops long enough to hug him and say something that we can’t hear from this far away. Rain starts to fall harder. The dejected expression on Oliver’s face and the droop of his shoulders when he walks back to the porch is heartbreaking.

Through all of this, Alden hasn’t said a word. He’s stood the whole time at the edge of the driveway, glaring at his dad. Mr. Stokes turns toward him and holds his arms out, an invite for a good-bye hug.

I can’t imagine how they’re feeling. A lump rises in my throat when I try to put myself in their shoes. If my dad suddenly decided to leave us, if my mom was begging him to stay, I couldn’t handle it.

After a moment of hesitation, Alden walks across the yard, swiping his wet hair out of his eyes. His dad says something and reaches to hug him.

Alden pulls back his fist and punches him in the mouth.

Tori grabs my arm, our shocked gasps loud in the sudden silence. Alden has grown a couple of inches since he turned thirteen, but his dad still towers over him. My lungs scream while I hold my breath, waiting to see if he’s going to hit him back.

He doesn’t. Mr. Stokes only tries to hug him again. Alden lands another punch, this time to his nose, before Oliver wraps an arm around him from behind and pulls him back.

Mr. Stokes shakes his head like he’s disappointed, then gets into his car. As soon as he pulls away, Alden turns and runs toward the woods.

“Alden! Get your ass back here!” his mother shouts, but he pays no attention. She bursts into tears and rushes back into the house.

Oliver seems torn over whether to chase after Alden or comfort his mother. I leap to my feet and wave at Oliver. “I’ll go check on him!”

Oliver nods and goes inside.

When we step off the porch into the yard, Tori’s mom calls out to her to get home. “It’s okay,” I tell Tori. “He’s probably at the treehouse. I’ll go find him.”

“Call me later.”

The rain has no mercy, but the trees help protect me when I run into the woods. It’s a good thing I’ve left a couple of flashlights in the treehouse because it’s going to be dark soon. The smell of wet trees is thick. The sound of the drops on the leaves chase me down the trail.

I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, but I know I don’t want him to be alone. The wooden ladder is slick under my hands and feet. I’m careful not to fall while I scramble up and poke my head into the treehouse.

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