a sign of things to come.
***
I brought my plate down to the kitchen after consuming the spinach omelet and tater tots that Janice had brought up, and cringed as the smell of burnt coffee and cold grease assailed my nostrils. I washed my plate, adding to the others that sat in the rack, and headed to the living room, surprised to find that no one was there; the blanket and pillows I had given to Graham had been put away, and Graham’s backpack was nowhere to be seen.
“Graham?” I called out, half expecting him to jump out from some corner just to hear me yelp, but nothing came of my call. I walked over to the front door and turned the handle, pulling the door open to the crisp, morning air. The last morning of the year.
“Graham?” I called out again, and looked for the familiar green vehicle parked on the street. It wasn’t there. “Where’d you go so early?” I asked myself aloud, and looked at the driveway fronting his house.
There was a white truck sitting there which meant that Richard was home. Following some stupid need to see if he was alright, I walked towards the house. The front door was locked. I bent down to lift the mat that sat in front of the door and grabbed the key hidden there, unlocking the door with it. The smell was even worse now than it was last night; I lifted the neck hem of my shirt above my face to block out the odor. “Mr. Hasselbeck?” I called out, my call muffled by the thin fabric.
I heard the sound of voices just beyond the entranceway, and I made my way towards the living room. The television was on, a home movie playing on the screen. I recognized it right away as Graham’s tenth birthday. It had the prerequisite balloons and cake, but there had also been a very belligerent clown that taught us several new words that we had yet to learn but had a great deal of fun putting to use.
I watched the screen as ten year old Graham blew out his candles amid the cheers of everyone around him, including his mother who had been wielding the camera. I smiled as he called out my name and pulled the mousy creature that I recognized as nine year old me from the back of the crowd of kids. “You get first slice, Grace,” he said cheerfully, and handed me one of the pre-sliced pieces on a character covered paper plate.
“Why did we invite Grace?” I heard whispered from behind the camera. The voice was slurred, and the way the camera shifted to the side a bit, I knew that its owner probably reeked of some alcoholic beverage or another. “She’s a freak, Ivy. She doesn’t belong here with the normal kids.”
I recognized the voice as that of the clown, and wondered how close he was to Graham’s mother to refer to her by first name. “She’s Graham’s best friend. He would have been miserable if she weren’t here, and you know it. I don’t care what other people say about her or the accident, Richard. She’s a good friend to our son, and she deserves the benefit of the doubt, just like anyone else would want. Now go over there and start acting like a clown and less like a damn drunk.”
I watched in muted shock as the belligerent clown suddenly appeared in front of the camera and started honking on a horn he pulled out of his pocket. “Hey hey, kids! It’s joke time! Wanna hear about the three guys who walked into the bar…”
The image started to fast forward and it was only then that I noticed Graham’s father sitting on the sofa, a bottle of beer in one hand, the remote in the other. He was staring at me, no remorse or embarrassment on his face at having his opinion of me exposed like that. “What are you doing in my house, Grace?” he rasped, his eyes red and unfocused, his skin ruddy and blotched from intoxication still visible beneath the days worth of growth that now made up a thin, salt and pepper beard.
“I came to see how you were doing, Mr. Hasselbeck,” I answered
***
I brought my plate down to the kitchen after consuming the spinach omelet and tater tots that Janice had brought up, and cringed as the smell of burnt coffee and cold grease assailed my nostrils. I washed my plate, adding to the others that sat in the rack, and headed to the living room, surprised to find that no one was there; the blanket and pillows I had given to Graham had been put away, and Graham’s backpack was nowhere to be seen.
“Graham?” I called out, half expecting him to jump out from some corner just to hear me yelp, but nothing came of my call. I walked over to the front door and turned the handle, pulling the door open to the crisp, morning air. The last morning of the year.
“Graham?” I called out again, and looked for the familiar green vehicle parked on the street. It wasn’t there. “Where’d you go so early?” I asked myself aloud, and looked at the driveway fronting his house.
There was a white truck sitting there which meant that Richard was home. Following some stupid need to see if he was alright, I walked towards the house. The front door was locked. I bent down to lift the mat that sat in front of the door and grabbed the key hidden there, unlocking the door with it. The smell was even worse now than it was last night; I lifted the neck hem of my shirt above my face to block out the odor. “Mr. Hasselbeck?” I called out, my call muffled by the thin fabric.
I heard the sound of voices just beyond the entranceway, and I made my way towards the living room. The television was on, a home movie playing on the screen. I recognized it right away as Graham’s tenth birthday. It had the prerequisite balloons and cake, but there had also been a very belligerent clown that taught us several new words that we had yet to learn but had a great deal of fun putting to use.
I watched the screen as ten year old Graham blew out his candles amid the cheers of everyone around him, including his mother who had been wielding the camera. I smiled as he called out my name and pulled the mousy creature that I recognized as nine year old me from the back of the crowd of kids. “You get first slice, Grace,” he said cheerfully, and handed me one of the pre-sliced pieces on a character covered paper plate.
“Why did we invite Grace?” I heard whispered from behind the camera. The voice was slurred, and the way the camera shifted to the side a bit, I knew that its owner probably reeked of some alcoholic beverage or another. “She’s a freak, Ivy. She doesn’t belong here with the normal kids.”
I recognized the voice as that of the clown, and wondered how close he was to Graham’s mother to refer to her by first name. “She’s Graham’s best friend. He would have been miserable if she weren’t here, and you know it. I don’t care what other people say about her or the accident, Richard. She’s a good friend to our son, and she deserves the benefit of the doubt, just like anyone else would want. Now go over there and start acting like a clown and less like a damn drunk.”
I watched in muted shock as the belligerent clown suddenly appeared in front of the camera and started honking on a horn he pulled out of his pocket. “Hey hey, kids! It’s joke time! Wanna hear about the three guys who walked into the bar…”
The image started to fast forward and it was only then that I noticed Graham’s father sitting on the sofa, a bottle of beer in one hand, the remote in the other. He was staring at me, no remorse or embarrassment on his face at having his opinion of me exposed like that. “What are you doing in my house, Grace?” he rasped, his eyes red and unfocused, his skin ruddy and blotched from intoxication still visible beneath the days worth of growth that now made up a thin, salt and pepper beard.
“I came to see how you were doing, Mr. Hasselbeck,” I answered
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