Reclaiming the Sand

That was some heavy shit. And it wasn’t something I could vocalize. Hell, I could barely admit in the quiet safety of my head the truth of it. So there was no way in hell I could ever tell him.

So I shrugged. “I’ve been busy,” I told him; ru

“This is the cleanest car I have ever seen,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“It was my mom’s. She bought it just six months before she died. So now it’s mine,” he explained in that short, succinct way of his. No need for extraneous details from Fly

“Oh.” I wanted to ask how his mother died. She had been a nice woman even if she had never trusted me. She had loved her son but she wasn’t blind to who he was. So she had of course been wary of our friendship.

I’m sure the multicolored hair and multiple facial piercings hadn’t helped matters either. But she had been civil, despite her very obvious displeasure at finding me in her home.

I often wondered if she started counting the silver as soon as I walked out the door.

It hadn’t been the first time I had experienced disapproval. Not many people liked me and those that did weren’t the type to be indiscriminate.

But Ms. Hendrick’s mistrust had hurt. I had wanted her to like me. I envied the relationship Fly

Aside from enjoying Fly

After Fly

“She had lung cancer. It was already stage four by the time the doctor’s found it. One day she was there. The next she wasn’t.” He told his story as emotionless as he said everything but even I could hear the quivering emotion beneath the surface.

“Why did you come back to Wellsburg?” I asked him.

Fly

The minutes passed and my skin froze from the strength of the air coming out of the vents. It wasn’t until Fly

“I hated this house when we moved here. It was ugly. It smelled fu

Nothing.

“But it’s mom’s house. She bought it for me. To start over.” I still didn’t understand the reasoning of that. If it had been me I would never have come back. No amount of sentimental nostalgia could have made me enter the town limits ever again.

“I painted it. I fixed the buildings. And now it’s not so ugly. I wanted to live here again.”

And that was that. He stopped the car and turned off the engine. He opened the door and got out, heading toward the front door, leaving me alone. I couldn’t even be a

This house meant something to not just him. This was the only place in Wellsburg I could ever remember being truly happy. And seeing Fly

I gathered the bags of food from the floor and slowly walked towards the house.

Images flashed through my mind like a movie. I had been Fly

I had been a horrible person.

I was still a horrible person.

The steps creaked beneath my feet as I walked up the porch. Another image flashed in my mind. One of smoke and flames and ru

Handcuffs. Interrogation. Anger and Hatred. Those had been my consequences. And I had borne them bitterly. Until now.

Because it had been no more than I deserved.

I pushed open the front door and was surprised to smell the lingering scent of banana bread in the air.

I knew my way to the kitchen. I had walked over these floorboards enough times to find it. The décor was the same it had been seven years ago. Nothing had changed. Yes there was fresh paint on the walls and new doors hung from the jams, but it was still the same.

It was almost jarring.

But I should have known Fly

How I envied him.

Fly

“Where do you keep the plates?” I asked him.

Fly

“I always liked the flowered ones your mom had. As far as plates go, they were pretty nice,” I said, trying to fill the suddenly uncomfortable silence.

“They were ruined in the fire,” Fly

But before I could freak out and run away, Fly

“Come, eat,” he urged, sitting down and carefully opening the box containing Dania’s cheeseburger.

I sat down across from him and took the other box but didn’t open it. I watched as he lifted the bun and scrapped off the lettuce and tomato with a fork and then wrapped the discarded condiments in a napkin before throwing it away. He pushed the French fries off to the side, making sure they didn’t touch anything before picking up the burger with both hands and taking a small bite.

“Stop watching me,” Fly

I blinked and looked away, flushing at having been caught. I flipped open the box and started picking at my sandwich. My appetite still hadn’t come back but I couldn’t just sit there doing nothing.

Fly

I tried not to stare. But his eating habits were so ritualistic that it was fascinating.

“I told you to stop looking at me. I hate it when people look at me,” he mumbled, taking a drink of water.

“Why do you hate people looking at you?” I asked him. Though I could hazard a guess why.

“Because people aren’t very nice when they look at me.” He reached over and speared one of my French fries that I had yet to eat and dipped it in his ketchup.

Then without asking, he claimed a few more from my plate.

“Uh, you wa

“Don’t cuss,” he said crossly, wiggling his hand beneath mine, trying to pull away.