Here Comes the Sun | ✓

Chapter One - Liam

Chapter One. Liam

I was fourteen when they left me and Jere.

It wasn't foreshadowed either; everything was as normal as it could have been. But maybe it was never normal. On the kitchen table was each of our breakfasts; Dad with his burnt-to-a-crisp toast and brewing coffee, Mom and her fried eggs and sweet iced tea, Jere with his baby formula, and me with my Captain Crunch, no milk. It was traditional, nothing out of the ordinary.

Dad had one of Jere's Power Ranger band-aids taped to the bottom of his freshly-shaven chin, and his light brown hair that I had inherited was carefully combed back. It took me extra long to get downstairs that day; Jere had woken up at three in the morning, refusing to go back to sleep unless he was sleeping in bed with me. Just like every other night.

Mom had to wake me up that morning, tapping me on the shoulder and whispering that breakfast was ready downstairs. Groggy from sleep, I grunted half-heartedly in acceptance and sighed, wondering why in the world I couldn't just go back to sleep. But then Jere squirmed by my side and I cringed, remembering the agreement I'd made with Mom and Dad when they finally accepted that Rose was having my baby.

Sighing one more time, I carefully crawled out of bed and tucked Jere deep into the blankets, checking several times he's in the middle of the bed so he won't fall out accidentally. He's only six months old.

But when I got back home from school that day, my mind muddled with sleepiness, they were both gone. After scanning the kitchen counters for a note and checking the voicemail on our home phone for any missed calls, I decided they were probably at the grocery store and had forgotten to tell me. Walking up the stairs of our two-story apartment, I gingerly took Jere out of his crib and tucked him into my side when I laid down in bed.

Even then, ten minutes after I got home, I could feel that something was wrong.

When night came and they still hadn't come, I dismissed it as bad traffic and cooked myself Ramen - my (only) specialty. I lied to myself for a week before I finally faced the truth: they weren't coming back. They left me here to take care of my baby by myself. My tiny, but huge mistake.

It's been five years since that day.

Five years since they left me to raise Jere by myself.

Five years I've been the grown up.

Five years of being the abandoned child.

Five years of being 'that kid who got that junior pregnant.'

Five years of watching my kid grow without anyone taking him away from me.

And we're just fine.

... That was another lie.

__

"C'mon, kid, I've got a wife to get home to."

And I've got a son to get home to, I think begrudgingly, but putting a little extra umph into my elbow as I mop up the floors. Bentley's standing in front of the store's open glass door, his key in hand and his foot replacing the doorstop. After one more wipe across the tile, I drop the mop into the sopping bucket and roll it into the supply closet where all of my cleaning supplies is kept.

"Ready, son?" his gravelly, husky voice calls. I swing my backpack over my shoulder and walk out of the closet, closing the door behind me with one solid click. I walk out of the shop without a word, my fingers twitching toward my back pocket. Bentley doesn't miss it. "Got something' on your mind, son?"

I stop and turn around, watching him lock the shop door behind him. I shake my head no. He glances up at me and chuckles halfheartedly, shaking his head and slipping his fingers underneath where his glasses sit on his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "Alright, boy. I won't bother you tonight." He drops his keys deep inside his front pants pocket and lets out a loud, grumbling sigh, clapping me on the shoulder as he walks pass me. "Night."