If I Save You

Chapter Seven-Scumbag

                  

I can see the worries buried deep beneath the cold surface of his icy blue eyes. The way his lips are pressed together tightly, the way his forehead creases.

But no matter how worried he looked, something about him made me feel calm. I don't know what. Maybe it's the fact that I finally have a friend. Or, an acquaintance. I honestly have no idea if Ethan even considers me his friend.

And why would he?

"I'm hungry" he suddenly proclaims, and starts to dig around in his backpack, squirming around in our small seats, startling me out of my cruel thoughts.

The train is a bit different than the subway trains. For one, the seats are actually comfortable, and me and Ethan have a smooth wooden table with so much gum stuck underneath it I don't want to think about it.

Buildings, trees and people whizz by us in an unrecognizable blur of colors and shapes. I don't look too much out the window, though, because I'll start to get nauseous. Instead, I stare over at Ethan, who was gnawing on a chocolate-chip granola bar.

"So, what do you think your Dad will be like?" I ask him casually. I thread my fingers through my knotted, messy hair as I wait for him to answer.

He swallows, and then sighs heavily. "Probably a scumbag"

I raise my eyebrows. "Well, then"

"He is a scumbag" Ethan defends himself. "He left me and my mom when it was convenient for him. If it wasn't for the fact that we need money for my mom's surgery, I would never have wanted to see his face again"

"So, you've met him before?"

"Not really. I was like three when he left" Ethan's eyes flicked over to an empty row of seats and tables, as if he could see the memory being played out before him, his face darkening by the second.

"I know what it's like, if that helps" I offer quietly. His eyes flick back to mine, and he takes another bite of the granola bar. "My Mom left and never returned, too. Except she died"

My face felt numb as I remember what happened to my mother. Me and Callum never, ever talk about it, mostly because its like an speed button for my depression, if that makes any sense at all, and even though Callum never admits it, talking about Mom makes him cry.

Callum is one of those overly-strong people that never lets you see them cry. He was like that even as a kid. I don't think that I ever saw him cry before. I guess I used to be like that, too. But I stopped caring about who saw me cry a long time ago.

We don't say anything much after that.

A lady who works on the train offered us our lunch, which were peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cut in perfect straight lines, an orange and a fruit-punch juice box.

For dinner we had cardboard-like pasta, a glass of water and a chocolate chip cookie that actually didn't taste so bad.

At around seven, as the sky outside darkened, my eyelids started to feel heavy. I tried not to sleep, and so did Ethan, who would smack his forehead every time he always dozed off, because our train stops at our station at nine. And I don't want that awkward moment where somebody on the train pokes you and tells you to wake up.

Ethan's hood was flipped over his head, and he was leaning back comfortably into his seat.

I lean back, too, and stuff my hands in my pockets. Maybe a little sleep wouldn't kill me...

Hey! Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked this short chapter. I've been super busy, but I wanted to write a small chapter. And, happy Thanksgiving to anybody living in Canada <3