See In Him

6

  Kennith had always liked car rides, mostly because they were soothing, especially at night. It wasn't as soothing with Jesse in the driver's seat, but Micheal sipping his coffee quietly in shotgun comforted him. The cup in his own hand was cold. An iced tea suited him better on hot days. He didn't find himself needing the caffeine, either, although he would have preferred a hot cup over the condensation dripping onto his fingers at that moment.

  "This is you?" Jesse asked. The car stopped. Grey building filled Kennith's vision, blending into the sidewalk until they were one in the same. "Yes. Thank you, Jesse. Kennith, do you want shotgun now?"

  "Sure."

  Both exited the car. Suddenly, Kennith felt a little overwhelmed by the noise of the city. The only comfort he found was a hand on his shoulder. It was a silent goodbye from his father, dismissed when they both turned away and the front car door was slammed. Once again, the air turned quiet. Kennith refused to look at Jesse. He was content on keeping his drink gripped tightly and his collapsed cane pressed against his leg.

  "Alright. Let's pray I don't get lost."

  Kennith didn't reply. He took a drink. Jesse silently continued to drive.

  Surprisingly, Kennith wasn't actually all that scared to drive with Jesse, as much as he told his mother so. He'd grown up in cars with learning drivers like his brothers and sisters, just to tag along and enjoy the ride. Riding with Jesse wasn't so different. Just awkward. Kennith could feel that it hurt Jesse to stay so quiet for so long. The realization amused Kennith.

  "So, about the washing machine."

  "Yeah, mom said you fucked up big time." Kennith's reply was practiced and smooth. It was a lie, sure, but it would only bring him closer to his goal. "Of course. It was my fault; your parents understood. I'm still getting used to your guys' washing machine. I just wanted to let you know that one of your shirts might not make it out alive."

Again, silence, for a solid five seconds. The car stopped at a red light, although he couldn't register the red and instead saw a faint brownish glow in the haze. Then the car drove under it when it flashed to faded green.

  "What?"

  "I know. I'm sorry. It might fit a toddler now. It was nice, too, a band shirt."

  This knowledge suddenly made Kennith so impossibly angry, he pondered the idea of grabbing the wheel and swinging them into traffic. The only band shirts he wore were ones he stole from his older brother's vintage stash, just to piss him off. But those shirts were special to him, too, not only because they kept him close to one of his only friends, but also because they were one of the things he loved most. He was never one for the heavy metal and classic rock his brother enjoyed, but every year or so, they would make sure they went to a concert of some kind together and add to the collection. That shirt was a memory lost.

  "Here it is," Jesse said, the car swerving to align with the curb. Without any words, Kennith slammed his drink into the tray he blindly felt for, got out of the car, and slammed the door so hard he was almost worried that the window would crack. He'd been to the optometrist's enough times to know that the big baby-blue blur marked the left door. After a second of searching blindly, while trying to keep his rage in check and the tears away, he finally found the handle and swung the door open with a growl.

  "Kennith. Hi. You're early today."

  Janet knew Kennith. Everybody in the office did; he once tried to punch the doctor when he called him 'blind as a freaking bat'. Since, he'd been replaced by a kind little lady that spoke to him like he was a human who could see perfectly fine. It was annoying, but tolerable. She didn't try to force answers from him or make small talk. All he had to do was flash his insurance card, wait, and get the nearly painless exam over with.