Runaway Home: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

         Troy wracked his brain, trying to figure out if he knew where that pedestrian bridge was, without having to get back out on I-480 on foot. It had been dark and he hadn't really been paying attention to where he was at the time. He'd become more familiar with the area once they'd reached the Turnpike overpass because it was closer to home, but he'd found the girl some seven or eight miles prior to that overpass; somewhere in North Olmsted was all he knew, not too far from Great Northern Mall.

         He and Riley had ridden all the way to tollgate number ten, which was at I-71 just south of Cleveland. Then they'd turned around and gotten right back on the Turnpike and headed back to tollgate number eight, which was Elyria. The entire way, Troy kept an eye out for anyone on foot or any vehicles stopped on the side of the road. He'd seen nothing. He knew he should feel some relief; that it was now out of his hands... not that it had been in his hands to begin with. Instead of being able to forget though, or convince himself that he didn't care, he had spiraled down into a completely foul mood. He just couldn't figure it out. It was driving him crazy that for the first time in his life, he had no control over his thoughts. His old man could beat him until he was black and blue, tell him he was lower than whale shit, and still, Troy could push it away. He'd had women call him every name in the book; tell him he was cold, heartless, even soul-less, and he could still walk away without a second thought. Yet here was a girl; a mere kid even, whom he'd met briefly and had even told him off, and he couldn't get her out of his head. For the first time, he couldn't just walk away.

         He would never be able to talk to Riley about it. Riley would give him hell. He'd been giving himself enough hell about it already. She was just a kid. And his girlfriend (or more likely ex-girlfriend now) was a hottie. All of Troy's friends envied him. She was definitely not shy in bed either, but even that had gotten old lately. His friends could be envious if they wanted to, they didn't have to put up with Jenna's constant whining and bitching. He supposed that was part of the appeal of the girl under the bridge. Not only did she not want his help, she got angry with him for trying. Maybe it was intrigue that wouldn't let him go. She had refused to tell him the whole story and he was curious. Whatever it was, it was driving him batty.

         They had ridden the entire way barely speaking and Troy knew Riley was getting impatient with him. He knew he was not acting himself and was not surprised that when Riley finally spoke, he sounded a little timid.

         "So... breakfast anyone? You did promise, remember?" Riley asked with an awkward chuckle.

         Troy only grunted in response, pulling into a little hole in the wall diner that the two frequented often. It was one of the only places around that served grits with breakfast. Grits were one of the only fond memories Troy had of growing up. His mother was from Tennessee originally, and used to make him a piping hot bowl for breakfast on cold winter mornings. She swore that she was going to teach him to eat them the southern way; with gobs of butter and sometimes red-eye gravy when she'd had a few extra dollars for some country ham. She'd told him that yankees ate them with milk and sugar; like Cream of Wheat. A huge bowl of creamy, white grits with steam rising from them always seemed to warm him from the inside out.

         His mother had still been young and beautiful then. Now she just seemed worn out and beaten down. He hated his father for what he'd done to their family, but Troy had learned to take care of himself because of it. He'd learned control over his emotions... maybe too well. Or so he'd thought until about two hours ago.

         Now, he sat in the booth across from his best friend. The only friend that was close enough to really read him.

         "Troy, you're gonna have to talk to me on this one. You're scaring the hell outta me. As long as we've been friends, I've never seen you like this. You look like shit warmed over. And that's saying something because I've seen you after some mad-ass binges. This is something different. You almost seem obsessed with whatever this 'thing' is."

         Troy rubbed his face with his hands and lit another cigarette. He thought for a moment and then said,

         "Riley, you know me better than anyone. You've said over and over that I'm not acting myself. I'm gonna attempt to explain, but if I hear or even sense one little bit of contempt or ridicule from you, I promise I will be myself as I beat your ass."

         "That's cool man. Go ahead. I swear I'll keep my mouth shut," Riley said.

         Just then, their food arrived. Riley had ordered a stack of pancakes with bacon and eggs, while Troy had his usual huge bowl of grits, with toast, bacon and coffee. Riley had long since given up on teasing Troy about his grits. It didn't do any good. The boy had a redneck in the woodpile somewhere. He even listened to country music for pete's sake.

         They ate in silence for some time, and then Troy started trying to tell Riley what had happened. He left nothing out, not even the part about the kiss. Try as he might though, he still just could not adequately explain what it was that was driving him to act this way. He watched Riley's expression while he related his story, but couldn't judge how he'd taken it. He surmised that after so many years of friendship, Riley had learned to keep a poker face in order to not get the crap beaten out of him.

         "So...have I lost my mind completely?" Troy asked, fixing Riley now with that icy blue stare. Riley looked down at his plate, avoiding Troy's eyes. He hated it when Troy stared him down like that.

         "Sounds to me like Cupid's hit his mark," Riley said, still not looking up.

         "...What?!" Troy said, almost choking on a mouthful of grits.

         "I said...," Riley started, but Troy cut him off.

         "I heard you the first time numbnuts. Now you're the one who's lost it," he said.

         Riley dropped his fork into his plate and looked up at Troy.

         "Look... first you tell me to keep my mouth shut, then you ask my opinion. So which is it Troy? 'Cause if you ask me again, I'll tell you again. You're stuck on the girl for whatever reason."

         Troy looked at Riley in disbelief. This possibility had not crossed his mind.

         "Man, you're nuts. She's just a kid. A spoiled rotten, snot-nosed brat. My God; with a woman like Jenna, why would I want this kid?"

         "Because you have a woman like Jenna. She's a bitch and everyone knows it. She's been bitching and whining at you for 6 months now. Get mad and hit me if you want to, but it's the truth and you know it."

         Troy considered getting angry, still staring Riley down, then changed his mind. He had to respect Riley for being direct and honest. He was right. He let Riley think he was in deep shit for a moment longer, then sighed and turned to look out the window.

         "Yeah well, as far as Jenna goes, as of last night she probably won't have me back anyway," Troy said, still staring out the window.

         "Why? What happened?"

         Troy shrugged. "Nothing that hasn't been coming since the day I met her."

         Riley didn't probe for more.

         "So what are you gonna do about the other thing?" Riley asked him.

         "Nothing, I guess. It was crazy anyway. I'd probably just get arrested if I hung around with her anyway. I just hope she chickened out and didn't go through with it. Hell, I don't even know if she had any money. She wouldn't tell me anything," Troy said, shaking his head as if trying to clear his mind.

         "If you ask me, I think that pisses you off more than anything; the fact that she wouldn't tell you anything or accept your help. You're pretty used to having women fall at your feet," Riley said, and immediately held up his handss in self-defense when Troy shot him an angry look.

         "It's true," Riley continued. "I've watched it for years. I can't figure it out. Between the two of us, you're always the one that ends up with the girl you want. This is the first I've known a female to snub you, and I think you're pissed."

         "You know Riley, if it were anyone else besides you, I'd have stomped your ass already. She did not snub me. She was just a snot-nosed, spoiled rotten brat. That's all," Troy said, grabbing the bill and sliding from the booth.

         Riley shook his head and followed Troy out the door.

         Troy had considered going back to Riley's place to crash, but changed his mind. He needed to shower, catch a quick nap and get his car somewhere to be fixed before he ended up spending the money in his pocket. He wouldn't have admitted it if asked, but he wanted to be alone anyway, just to think. He had gotten so accustomed to pushing any kind of emotion away, that this feeling he was having was almost foreign to him. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

         After stopping at a convenience store to buy Riley the promised carton of cigarettes, Riley drove him home. Troy lived in a fairly rural area, in a run down two-bedroom trailer. Every time he saw it, he swore to himself that once he got out, he would never live like that again.

         Riley dropped him off at the end of the gravel driveway. He'd once told Troy, long ago, that he vowed to never again set foot inside Troy's house, or even his yard for that matter. This decision had come after Troy's father had chased Riley out of the trailer with a baseball bat when he'd made the innocent mistake of answering a question that hadn't been meant to be answered. That had been 4 years ago, and Troy realized as he climbed out of Riley's car, that so far, he'd been able to keep that promise.

         "Call me later dude," Riley said through the open car window. "Emily's going to her Mom's this afternoon, so I'll be free."

         Troy didn't answer, just threw up a hand to indicate he'd heard, and continued up the driveway. He heard Riley pull away.

         Instead of going through the front door, he decided to go around back, intending to check on his car. As he rounded the corner though, he found his mother's car parked outside the back door. She should have been at work hours ago. Fear crept into his belly like a black snake and lay there, coiled and ready to strike. Troy worried about his mother constantly. His father had put her in the hospital from a vicious beating several years before, but she had refused to leave him. She kept saying that he was really a decent man, and if he could just quit drinking, things would turn around. Troy was almost convinced that one day he would come home to find her dead, and his father passed out with an empty fifth of whiskey by his head.

         Forgetting his car for the moment, he opened the back door and walked in with great trepidation. He was totally confused to find his mother sitting at the kitchen table with reddened eyes, and the neighbor from across the street, Mrs. McAllister, at the stove making a pot of coffee.

         "Mom, you alright?" he asked, rushing to her side and quickly looking her over for fresh bruises.

         "Oh Troy, I'm so sorry. I've been trying to call you all morning. I never got an answer and I didn't want to leave a message," she said.

         Troy pulled out his cell phone and looked at it, noticing that he had indeed missed three calls. Then he remembered that he had left it in the car when they'd gone in to eat. He looked back at his mother questioningly.

         "Troy, it's your Dad."

         "What Mom? What is it? Did he hurt you again? 'Cause if he did, I swear I'll..." he started, but his mom cut him off.

         "He's gone Troy," she said softly.

         "Gone? Where'd he go?" Troy said, still confused.

         "Troy, he's gone. He passed away this morning."

         Troy's eyebrows shot up in complete surprise as his mind tried to grasp what she'd said.

         "You're kidding me! When... how? What happened?" he stuttered.

         "I don't know. He never came to bed last night. He'd been drinking and I figured he'd just passed out in his chair. I found him there this morning as I was leaving for work. He was cold," she said, her eyes tearing up again.

         "I'll be damned. I figured the son of a bitch was too mean to die," he said, and then realized his mother was crying again. He hugged her close.

         "Aw Mom, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to find him like that and I'm sorry I wasn't here. Where is he now and what do you need me to do?" he asked. From behind them, Mrs. McAllister spoke up.

         "He's at Williams Mortuary. Since it appeared natural, there'll be no autopsy. You and your Mother need to go down there sometime this afternoon though, to take care of some things. I'd be happy to come along with you if you need me to," she volunteered.

         Troy looked at his mother to see if that was what she wanted.

         "Evelyn, you've done so much already. I'm sure you have things to do. I hate to burden you anymore," she said.

         "It's no problem, Teri. Just give me a call when you're ready to go. Since Troy's here now, I'll scoot on home. You need anything at all, you call me. Okay Troy?" she said as she started out the back door.

         "Alright. Thank you," he replied. His mind was spinning.

         "Can I get you anything Mom?"

         "I'm fine honey. I'm just glad you're home. I guess this was for the best. I swear though Troy, as mean as he was, I truly loved your father," she said, fixing him with her own crystal blue eyes. Troy was reminded of where he'd gotten his blue eyes every time she looked at him that way.

         "I know Mom," he answered.

         He knew in his heart though, that he would not cry. He felt nothing but relief. Relief that he wouldn't have to worry about her quite as much, relief that he wouldn't have to avoid his own home any longer and relief that things would never escalate to the point where he would have to physically confront his father. He knew that had it ever come to that, he probably would have killed the man.

         He went to the stove and poured them both a cup of fresh coffee, adding two spoonfuls of sugar to hers, and cream to his. Walking back over to the table, he set her cup down in front of her, sat down, and lit a cigarette, offering it to her. She took it from him and took a long drag, looking at him sideways. Ordinarily, she didn't ask anymore, but he looked so disheveled that she couldn't help it.

         "So good lookin', where ya' been? Jenna's?"

         "Yeah," Troy replied sarcastically.

         "Why do you say it like that?" she asked with surprise. "I thought you two were pretty tight."

         "She was nothing but a whiner. Nothing was ever good enough for her. I got a little irritated with her last night and my mouth ran away on me. It wasn't pretty. I ended up walking home... or most of the way home. Riley came and got me and we went to breakfast. I had left my phone in his car and that's why I didn't get your calls," he explained.

         He didn't go into the rest; the part about the girl. He had always been close to his mom and she was a great listener. But now was not the time. Maybe later, if it was still bugging him.

         "Troy, you look exhausted. I get the feeling that you're not telling me the whole story. You look... distracted or something. Why don't you go take a shower and lay down for a while? I'm fine, and there's nothing more to be done right now," she said. He started to protest but she wouldn't hear of it.

         "Hush boy. Just go. I'm fine, I promise," she reassured him.

         Troy stood and stretched, then leaned over and kissed her on top of the head, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

         "I'm really sorry Mom. I know you're hurting. I can't honestly say that I feel the same, but I'm sorry for you. I love you."

         "I know son, I know," she said quietly.

         Troy walked back to his bedroom, consciously having to remind himself that he no longer needed to move quietly. Now, there was no reason to avoid making too much noise. He cringed as he accidentally closed the door to his bedroom too hard, subconsciously waiting for the drunken rage that normally would've begun from the other end of the trailer. It was eerily quiet.

         Stripping down to his boxers, he headed to the shower. He stood under the steaming hot water for what seemed like hours, relishing the fact that there was no one pounding on the bathroom door, reminding him that he didn't pay the damn water bill around here. He knew he should've been more upset about his father dying, but he just couldn't find it in himself to feel anything other than relief.

         He finished his shower and opening the bathroom door, peered down the hall to the kitchen. His mother was still sitting at the table, staring out the window, her hands cupped around her coffee mug.

         "Still okay Mom?" he called down the hall.

         "Yes, Troy. I'm really okay. Go to bed," she replied without turning.

         With that, he retreated to his bedroom, turned on the stereo and climbed into bed. He had intended to mull over his dilemma and think more about the girl, but within minutes, he was fast asleep.