Mr. Ward told us, “Them boys need some manners. And if their mamas nor the school are gonna give ‘em any, I’m glad I have you two to get the job done.”
Everyone went quiet as I sat motionless, staring at the huge, juicy piece of meat on my plate. Delilah’s voice rung in my ear, “Kenny, what’s wrong with your steak?”
My throat tightened with gratitude. “Never had one before.”
Mr. Ward had a special way of taking unwanted attention off me. He lifted his chin and said, “Never too late to have one, I always say.”
I did have my first steak that night, and I was fed every time I was over—which became more and more often. Bones. My exposed bones began to disappear, and the shape of a young man took the skeleton’s place.
From the Captain’s Chair, Art sighed. “You guys must have been tight, all three of you knowing what it’s like to lose a family member and all.”
It was true, Delilah and Tucker had lost their mama to cancer when they were young, but, at the time, I was lost to Art’s meaning about me. “I haven’t lost anyone close to me.”
His eyes widened slightly before he recovered, asking, “Tell me more about the trio.”
My chest loosened as I thought about my friends. “Seventh grade ended, and so did middle school for the united trio. Tucker was heading to high school for his freshman year, leaving Delilah and me behind…”
Delilah and I became much closer with her childhood friends. Cole, Hu, and Bryce didn’t seem to have tragic stories like Delilah and me. Nor did they seem to be damaged goods, not like me. It was relaxing to be around free souls.
Jazebelle was a trip. She had lots of energy and was always looking forward to her next adventure with a smile. Viola and I never saw eye to eye. She always watched me as if I was up to something. I ignored her and lived my life. I was up to nothing, nothing but having Delilah’s back… which slowly but surely became a little bit of a fascination. Where one saw Delilah, they saw me.
By ninth grade, having Delilah close to me became more of a need then a duty. When I was not by her side, I missed her. I craved her. Her every detail became a lullaby to me, like the way her long fingers would grip and twist the lock on her locker. Sounds like a simple task, but when Delilah did it, it became art in itself. One of my favorite things to watch her do was brush her hair. Her thick mane would dance as the brush bristles caressed her the way I would have loved to. And her smile? If Picasso would have been alive, he would have created another masterpiece by painting Delilah.
Somehow, everything I felt for her became locked into place during my junior year, the night my home phone rang. I remember it so well because I was shocked it was actually in service. Not expecting it to ring, I jumped. Lying in my bed, I was too distracted for some reason to answer the phone. It didn’t matter. My bedroom door swung open at the same time, colliding into the wall. Rick, my mom’s present asshole boyfriend, pounced on me, screaming, “I said to take out the fucking trash!” When the bed violently bounced, a pillow knocked the receiver free. The phone fell to the floor.
Not thinking my memory lapse was deserving of his rage, I yelled, “Rick! Get the fuck off me!” But my body’s reactions seemed so delayed as if I was just waking from a deep slumber.
Not able to fight back, each blow to my face made me feel lonelier. My mom didn’t come to help me anymore. By that hour of a night, she was too drugged up. Eventually, I was huddled in a corner, too beaten to raise my fists in an attempt to block the hits any longer.
It is eerie to watch your own blood splatter to a wall. The crimson dripping down was a sadistic representation of the tears in my heart.
More angered skin smashed down, hurting my flesh… hurting me. It caused me to give up the fight to try anymore. There was no reason to have hope, so that hope slipped further and further away, even while paramedics worked on me. It had been Tuck calling me when the pillow knocked the receiver free. Tuck and his dad had heard the fight. Now, Tuck and his dad were in my bedroom, packing my shit.
They were almost too late.
The hope that had been beaten out of me was almost completely extinguished, until Delilah appeared in my doorway. It was like seeing an angel. I reached out to the angelic one, hoping she could put me back together again.
It was an unfair request. I see that now.
Mr. Ward tried to stop her, but she was suddenly kneeling in front of me, wiping tears from my eyes. I watched her. I watched her be so kind to me when I was as broken as they came. Her hand caressed my face so gently, I believe she thought I would fracture in her palm. What she didn’t know was the fracture had already taken place. Irreversible damage had already been done.
Still in his blue chair, Art stared at me with a blank expression on his face. Was it shock? Maybe. Or maybe it was a reminder of his own past…
Art’s cell ringing made us both jump. He fumbled to pull it from his pocket. “Uh, hello?” He listened. “What?” He took a gander at his watch before his eyes popped from his head. “Shit. Yeah, we’ll be ready.” After hanging up, he quickly stood. “Ready to meet your new family?”
I had talked for two hours, and now it was time to move on to the next chapter of my life. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to let go of my old one.
In the silver SUV, I sat in the back seat, my hoody tucked over my head. I leaned against the door, hoping it would burst open so my body could hit the freeway pavement and all this could be over.
It didn’t happen.
I had to live.
So, for the many hours it took to get to Austin, I thought of my old life…
My mom hadn’t put up a struggle when Mr. Ward explained he was taking me for a while. I knew she wouldn’t, but a son could hope. With garbage bags packed, I was taken from a home of violence and given a home of love.
The first home I had met the Wards in was not as luxurious as the one they now lived in. Mr. Ward’s construction business had really taken off. He sat me down and told me he didn’t expect me to tell my life story, but if I was willing to share it, he was more than willing to listen. Mr. Ward also told me I was welcome to stay as long as I liked, but said he truly hoped I would at least stay until I finished high school. Pride should have made me say no, but I had none. It had been beaten out of me and stolen, so I agreed.
I clung to Delilah for a while. She soothed my fears. She helped fill a void I was now stuck with. Once I finally started separating myself from her, attempting to stand on my own, I began to have reoccurring nightmares. I would be running in the dark, in the rain, with a little girl…
“Kenny. Kenny. Wake up. Are you okay?”
In my dark bedroom, relief flowed through me as I reached for her. No, Delilah wasn’t a little girl, but the love I had for her felt the same as the one from my nightmare. I took hold of her hand. “I was looking for you.”
Confused, rightfully so, Delilah asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Just breathing her in, I mumbled relief, “You’re safe.”
I wasn’t sure why I was convinced she was in danger, or why I believed she needed my protection, but the nagging sensation was very strong. It was actually growing; I was just too naïve to see it or understand what was coming.
“Kenny, are you awake?”