mind if I stop for gas?” he asked, quickly glancing at me.
“No,” I responded quickly.
He looked over at me suspiciously. I regretted answering so quickly. He probably thought I liked him or something now.
“I, er, don’t really want to go home yet,” I explained, fiddling with my fingers. “No one is ever home, so it’s boring, you know?”
“I see,” Mr. Heywood responded, his eyes on the road again. “Where are your parents?”
“My dad died about two years ago,” I said, looking out the window. “Some car hit and killed him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What about your mom?”
“She’s alive,” I told him. “And she works her butt off to support the two of us. She’s got this crazy idea in her head that I need to live in a big house and wear brand name clothing like all the kids at school. But I don’t really like taking money from my mom. It feels weird.”
“I know what you mean,” Mr. Heywood responded.
I stared curiously at him. “You do?”
He nodded. “I never had a good relationship with my parents. It was always weird asking them for money. I felt like a moocher or something since I never really saw them.”
I realized he was speaking in past tense. “They’re dead?”
He nodded. “Both of them died in a car crash . . . about two years ago,” he started slowly. “They hit a man in the street, and my dad, who was driving, veered to the right, straight into a telephone pole which killed them both.”
My mouth went dry. I remembered my mom telling me that the couple in the car that had hit my dad had died as well. I swallowed, licking my lips. Did this mean what I thought it meant? “April,” I started, my voice coming out quiet and unsure.
“Eleventh? Yeah,” he responded, confirming my thoughts.
His parents really did kill my dad.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized out loud, hanging my head in shame. “I’m sorry, Mr. Heywood, I just thought something really bad.”
He chuckled. “I said call me Chris. And I’m sure I just had the same thought as you.”
“Your parents killed my dad?” I whispered, staring at him.
“Your dad killed my parents,” he responded, rolling his eyes. “But I promise you that’s not what I think. The thought just popped into my head.”
“Same with me!” I told him quickly. “I couldn’t help it.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s weird though,” I said, looking out the window again. “When I thought about the other two people in the car crash, I never thought about if they had a kid or anything. I just thought ‘those people killed my dad.’”
“That is what’s normal to think,” Mr. Heywood responded. “I thought the same thing. I never thought about you or your mom. It’s in the human nature only to think of yourself.”
“I still feel guilty.”
Mr. Heywood raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re an interesting person, you know?”
“Why do you think that?” I responded, staring at him.
He chuckled. “No reason.”
“Okay . . .”
“ It’s a small world, no?” he suddenly said, his lips twitching.
For some reason, it sounded like Mr. Heywood had a double meaning to his words. Some kind of inside joke only he got. I pushed the thought aside and nodded in agreement, glad for the change of subject. “Yeah.”
I stared at him thoughtfully. So he had gone through the same grievance as I did as the same time I did. Except while I only lost one parent, he had lost both of his. I couldn’t imagine what I had gone through being doubled. The thought of losing my mom was horrible. But losing both my parents at the same time? I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Mr. Heywood had been through. To my surprise, tears were starting to form in my eyes. I tired to subtly wipe them away.
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Heywood asked, glancing over at me.
I blushed, embarrassed I had been caught. “Nothing, I was just thinking . . .”
He smiled gently at me. “It’s all in the past now, so don’t worry,
“No,” I responded quickly.
He looked over at me suspiciously. I regretted answering so quickly. He probably thought I liked him or something now.
“I, er, don’t really want to go home yet,” I explained, fiddling with my fingers. “No one is ever home, so it’s boring, you know?”
“I see,” Mr. Heywood responded, his eyes on the road again. “Where are your parents?”
“My dad died about two years ago,” I said, looking out the window. “Some car hit and killed him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What about your mom?”
“She’s alive,” I told him. “And she works her butt off to support the two of us. She’s got this crazy idea in her head that I need to live in a big house and wear brand name clothing like all the kids at school. But I don’t really like taking money from my mom. It feels weird.”
“I know what you mean,” Mr. Heywood responded.
I stared curiously at him. “You do?”
He nodded. “I never had a good relationship with my parents. It was always weird asking them for money. I felt like a moocher or something since I never really saw them.”
I realized he was speaking in past tense. “They’re dead?”
He nodded. “Both of them died in a car crash . . . about two years ago,” he started slowly. “They hit a man in the street, and my dad, who was driving, veered to the right, straight into a telephone pole which killed them both.”
My mouth went dry. I remembered my mom telling me that the couple in the car that had hit my dad had died as well. I swallowed, licking my lips. Did this mean what I thought it meant? “April,” I started, my voice coming out quiet and unsure.
“Eleventh? Yeah,” he responded, confirming my thoughts.
His parents really did kill my dad.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized out loud, hanging my head in shame. “I’m sorry, Mr. Heywood, I just thought something really bad.”
He chuckled. “I said call me Chris. And I’m sure I just had the same thought as you.”
“Your parents killed my dad?” I whispered, staring at him.
“Your dad killed my parents,” he responded, rolling his eyes. “But I promise you that’s not what I think. The thought just popped into my head.”
“Same with me!” I told him quickly. “I couldn’t help it.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s weird though,” I said, looking out the window again. “When I thought about the other two people in the car crash, I never thought about if they had a kid or anything. I just thought ‘those people killed my dad.’”
“That is what’s normal to think,” Mr. Heywood responded. “I thought the same thing. I never thought about you or your mom. It’s in the human nature only to think of yourself.”
“I still feel guilty.”
Mr. Heywood raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re an interesting person, you know?”
“Why do you think that?” I responded, staring at him.
He chuckled. “No reason.”
“Okay . . .”
“ It’s a small world, no?” he suddenly said, his lips twitching.
For some reason, it sounded like Mr. Heywood had a double meaning to his words. Some kind of inside joke only he got. I pushed the thought aside and nodded in agreement, glad for the change of subject. “Yeah.”
I stared at him thoughtfully. So he had gone through the same grievance as I did as the same time I did. Except while I only lost one parent, he had lost both of his. I couldn’t imagine what I had gone through being doubled. The thought of losing my mom was horrible. But losing both my parents at the same time? I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Mr. Heywood had been through. To my surprise, tears were starting to form in my eyes. I tired to subtly wipe them away.
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Heywood asked, glancing over at me.
I blushed, embarrassed I had been caught. “Nothing, I was just thinking . . .”
He smiled gently at me. “It’s all in the past now, so don’t worry,
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