The Boy in the Gray Hoodie

28...

28…

            “Marley, where’s Chris?” I repeated. She didn’t answer. Instead, she wrapped her pepper colored sweater tighter around her tiny midsection and stared in Roy’s direction.

            Roy was still standing up against the wall. He looked completely shocked, his features as frozen as his rigid shoulders.

            “It’s…it’s you,” Marley whispered. “H-how—why—” she shook her head, not making any sense at all.

            Roy still hadn’t moved, and his gaze never left Marley’s face. I’d seen the recognition flash in his eyes the moment she walked in the room.

            The hair on the back of my neck stood up. They knew each other? But, that must mean that…

            I shot Marley a look. “What is going on here?” I demanded, stepping in front of Roy protectively. “Where is Chris?”

            “H-he’s at home, with Caleb,” Marley answered hesitantly.

            “Caleb…your son…” I heard Roy say softly. I glanced up at him, and he returned my look with a nervous one of his own.

            Marley nodded, her normally dark skin turning pale. “That’s right. You remembered.”

            I shook my head, feeling utterly lost. “Somebody explain what’s going on,” I ordered, too confused to be angry.

            “I-I don’t think I can do that yet,” Marley said. Her long, curly hair bounced against her shoulders as she shook her head. “Not here. Not…not until I can explain to him first.” She waved her hand at Roy.

            “He has a name, you know.” I snapped defensively.

            Marley shook her head. “No, he doesn’t.”

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The house was very spacious and warm. That’s the first thing that I noticed when we walked in. Not just the temperature, but the atmosphere. The furniture and the knick-knacks, it was all very cluttered and claustrophobic. There were kid’s toys everywhere, and tiny handprints on the windows and television screen. To me, it looked every bit like a real home.

The walls of the living room were painted a pale yellow, like the color of butter. Two sets of large windows looked out on a green backyard covered in fallen leaves. The property line ended at the river. Fur and maple trees lined the banks, their greens and oranges mimicked in the colors of the throw pillows on Marley’s sofa set.

Two recliners sat in front of the window and a loveseat separated the living room from the dining room area, with a dark wood coffee table covered in miscellaneous toys planted in the center of the room.

            I sat rigid on the edge of a black leather loveseat next to Roy, who hadn’t laid a finger on me since we got in Marley’s car half an hour ago.

            Chewing my lip, I looked over at Roy. He was staring at his feet. “Are you okay?” I asked him quietly. Marley and Chris were in the kitchen getting us something warm to drink, and I didn’t want them to overhear.

            Roy shook his head wordlessly.

            “I know,” I nodded. “I’m not either.” He sent me a worried look. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” I took his hand and smiled reassuringly. He squeezed my fingers in response.