I walk Raf home.
It developed slowly. At first he'd linger in the gym and we'd talk. I'd give him some extra pointers or we'd talk about how he played or a game I just played. Our talks started to grow in length, the gym growing empty and one day we stepped through the doors. We did that for awhile but one night the wind had picked up and to prevent a chill from settling in our bones he pointed up down the street and we fell into step together.
They recently moved into a bigger place, the lower level of a townhouse about six blocks away from the center. Raf tried to downplay it but I remember what it was like when my parents told me the entire room was mine. A room that wasn't cold and dirty and buried under the house. Or the other room, the one that they pretended was mine to keep face for anyone that came to visit.
It was an adjustment, having such a large space to myself, a space that they didn't intrude on. I could close the door, I could have things, I had a place of my own. At first it seemed too big, too clean and perfect. I felt like an imposter sleeping in the bed every night. I kept it as immaculate as I could, carefully reading through the selection of old dusty books that my mom had lined the large built ins with. I studied the spines of those books for the longest time before I was brave enough to pull one down. For a long time I had their order memorized, just to be certain I wouldn't get in trouble for not putting one away correctly. Turns out, my mom didn't even know their order.
"My mom said if I keep my grades up she'd by me the new Xbox." Raf says.
I can always tell when he's trying to hide his excitement. His voice drops a little lower and he clears his throat after like he's trying to shake the excitement from his body. But he doesn't do that now.
"Good motivation."
He shrugs his shoulders, his hands stuffed into his sweatpants as he walks beside me. The streetlights have all clicked on, illuminating the fronts of the old townhouses.
"I guess."
I turn to look at him, studying his profile, the grim look on his face.
"You don't want the new Xbox?" I question.
His dark eyes meet mine and unease trickles through my body at the fear I see that lingers in them. He licks his lips and tries to shrug whatever it is off again.
"My dads out." He confesses. "I think she's seeing him again."
Nausea starts to eat at my insides, the thought of an evil man being brought back into Raf's life torments me. I fear for him but I also fear that I'm not capable of helping him. That my own history with abuse and all the messed up I still am because of it will render me useless.
It's moments like these when memories of Drew come at me hard. All the times when he so effortlessly bridged the social gaps for me. The times when just his presence alone brought me peace and clarity. How he never asked, he never pried, unless you count that day in the locker room when I told him I'd been in juvy. Drew had this amazing ability to know me, to know how to help me, without me ever saying it.
I want to be that way for Raf even though I can't.
"I mean, I don't have proof or anything." Raf backtracks when I can't come up with anything to say. "It's prolly in my head."
There's a whole block by Raf's new house that's empty. The old buildings torn out a few years ago to make way for new urban planning to decrease the amount of squatters and crime in the area. It's desolate, a little eerie considering past that block buildings stand side by side and they continue to grow in mass with each passing block until the sky glows a constant hazy yellow no matter the time of day.
It's then that I find the words. A question I had prayed to be asked for countless years. One I knew I couldn't answer in words but maybe a small shake of the head to an intuitive stranger that saw the fear that shook my body in Austin's presence. But no one ever asked me.
"Are you safe?" I ask Raf.
His Jordan's scrap the pavement as we round the street corner he lives on. The empty block lingers behind us, it's openness makes me feel exposed, there's something comforting about the rows of buildings and homes. That they section me off from prying eyes limiting it to just whoever's on the same street. But that open block makes me feel like a sitting duck causing my discomfort to grow.
"Am I ever safe?" He counters back.
I want to tell him yes but I know better. I've lived in that fear and uncertainty. I understand what it's like. And as long as his dad's out on the streets, I know the answer is no. Because it's the same for me. If Austin gets paroled, I won't be safe anymore.
But I don't get the chance to sort through my thoughts and come up with an answer for Raf. We reach the stoop of the townhouse he lives in and it's like a switch gets flipped. The fear that he's expressed to me is gone, his cool, tough demeanor pulled back on.
And without a second thought he trots down the steps to the front door of his house and says "See ya next week Holt".
I linger on the sidewalk, wondering if I should follow him down and say something. What, I have no idea. My heart starts to beat a little faster as my mind plays out scenarios. My thoughts getting lost in a cycle, leading me down a path that's filled with trauma until my lungs want to seize up right there in my chest as I stand on the sidewalk in a not so great part of town.
Reaching for Blue, I fish my phone out of my pocket because even though I do it, I know he's not there. I won't be granted any comfort. My hands shake as I navigate through my contact list to my dad's number and press it, counting the rings until he picks up.
"Hey bud!" He answers cheerily.
I answer him with "4 blocks to the train".
"Piece of cake." He keeps the same happy, light hearted tone even though he knows I called because I'm anxious and feel a panic attack looming. "Tell me about your day? How's Raf?"
He talks me all the way home.
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Oh Rhett. He's the best.
According to the CDC I'm allowed to go out into the world. But just to be safe we're taking the little humans to get rapid tests on Monday so we can send them back to school. Not that I don't love them but it's been a long two weeks and an even longer week being stuck in the house haha.
That being said Michigan decided to dump a bunch of snow on us and the temperature finally dropped and even though I suck ass at ice skating I'm super excited to break myself on the backyard rink. Will I fall? Oh yes. Will I fuck my back up? Guaranteed. Will it stop me? Fuck no.
Maybe it's just because it's January or maybe I'm just losing my mind but I'm full of false confidence and completely aware ambition, none of that blind ambition shit.
Come at me 2022. I'm feeling spicy.
