Burning Desire

05

2014

Tristan walked away from his home, escaping the sound of bottles breaking and his dad's yelling. He knew that his mom would be okay, and if she wasn't, she chose not to leave the house so it was her fault.

It hurt Tristan to think that his mother could be dealing with abuse in his absence, but he'd begged her to leave the house with him in the past, just to get away for a few hours, but Tia always refused.

Tristan was only fourteen as he walked down the street in the small town where he'd grown up. He had a five dollar bill in his palm, which was enough to buy two milkshakes at their local pharmacy that also sold milkshakes at the bar.

He entered the store, keeping his hood on, and sat on one of the stools.

"What can I get for you, sugar?" the old, fat lady behind the counter asked as she dried a fancy glass cup made for ice cream.

Tristan shrugged. "Can I have your milkshake menu?" he asked in a small voice.

The lady handed him the laminated sheet with all of the flavors, telling him to take all the time she needed and offering ice cream samples if he wanted to try any.

"Can I get a peanut butter and chocolate shake?" Tristan asked, his mouth salivating at the idea of drinking the shake filled with peanut butter swirls and yummy chocolate.

"Of course, sugar," the lady said, making him the shake and filling a cup, pouring the remainder of the shake in a metal cup for him. "That's two fifty, doll."

Tristan handed her the crumpled five dollar bill, and she took one look at the money and handed it back to him.

"You're that Raymond boy, aren't ya?" she asked, looking under Tristan's hood and seeing the bruise on his cheek.

"Yes, ma'am," Tristan said, but his focus was more on his milkshake than the heavy weight hanging over the room.

She sighed. "Your daddy was a good lil' boy, till he got his hands on alcohol and decided that his fists were his best gift," she said, rolling her eyes. "Didn't realize lil' Tia was the best gift. Your momma doin' well, honey?"

Tristan sighed. "Yeah," he said, thinking about the bruises that still covered his mom's body and her delusions convincing her that his dad loved her. "She says she's fine."

"You don't believe her, do you?"

Tristan chose to ignore her at that point, sipping on his milkshake.

"I gotcha, sorry for poking, darling," the lady said, turning away from him and washing stuff up. "You hold onto that money, got it? And if you ever need anything, you come back here."

Tristan just nodded, finishing the tall shake glass and moving onto the metal cup, pleased to find that it had even more shake than the first cup. He finished quick, ignoring the sharp brain freeze pains, and thanked the lady, leaving the pharmacy.

Since he still had five dollars, Tristan decided to go to the super market and grabbed a bottle of pop and some snacks.

"That's five fifty," the cashier said.

Tristan sighed. "I only have five dollars."

"Too bad."

Well, this man was nothing like the sweet lady at the pharmacy.

As Tristan was bout to leave without buying anything, someone laid their hand on his shoulder and handed the cashier their debit card.

"I got you, kid," a boy who looked to be at least five years older than Tristan said, smirking at the fourteen year old.