It Was You (8 page)

The motel requires us to be out by ten and doesn't even serve a free breakfast like many do. My stomach rumbling reminds me that I have no spare cash for food nor anything else. "Maybe we should go back after all," I tell Jaron as we walk to his bike.

"Why?" He asks, peaking over his shoulder at me. He has bags under his eyes. He probably didn't sleep for shit last night. I’m curious if my question ate at him. I feel like a ass hat for asking, even though I think I have the right to know if I was sleeping less than four feet away from someone who killed another person.

"I don't have money," I answer. "I have no way to pay for food or anything else."

"Don't worry about it. I got it."

"I'm not asking you for anything. I don't want a handout."

He comes to a complete stop before he gets to his bike, causing me to nearly run into him. "I'm not giving you a handout, but I'm helping you out. If you don't like it, pay me when we get back, but if money is your only reasoning for going back, then we're not going back."

I bite down on my lip as I stare at Jaron. In all honestly I'd like to stay. I think I need this, to get away for a while, to clear my mind and focus on other things in the world rather than my shit home life and the people who don't care about me.

When I still don't say anything after a minute Jaron gives a long sigh. "We're staying then. We have a bit of a ride ahead of us, so we'll stop for breakfast in a little while."

"Where are we going?"

"Bristol."

I don't ask why. Instead I climb onto the back of the motorcycle. The morning air is crisp and cool, but it feels good against my skin, even if a little chilly. We stop for breakfast at Denny's and the entire time Jaron seems distant- almost as though he's lost. He doesn’t eat anything except a slice of bacon, and drinks only a coffee. I’m not much of a morning eater either, but I have no idea when we’ll eat again, so I do my best to fill up. Mainly I remain silent, saying a few things here and there. Jaron does even less speaking.

Three hours later we're in Bristol and I'm already hungry but too scared to tell him that. He parks outside of a tall blue apartment building in a dumpy part of the neighborhood. There are porches going up the building with stairs connecting each one. Toys are thrown about on one of the porches, clothes are hung on a line on a different porch, broken glass is in front of one of the doors, and on the last porch an old man is drinking brandy straight from the bottle while sitting in a rocking chair.

Jaron gives him a head nod then knocks on the door in front of him.

"Colin's probably still passed the fuck out," the old man says.

"Thanks Pap." When he opens the door and heads right in, I follow quickly, giving a small smile to the man he called Pap.

"Yo, Colin," Jaron yells out as we head down a hall covered in wood panel. It's dark and dingy in the apartment, almost reminding me of my home, except that it smells more like weed than cigarettes. The last door in the hall opens up and before us stands a tall, lengthy guy that is probably in his late twenties rolling what I assume to be a joint between his fingers.

"Fuck, wasn't expecting to see you around here Jay Jay."

Jay Jay? I didn’t realize he had a nickname.

I watch as they give each other props, then his buddy looks over Jaron's shoulders to me. "Who's the chick?"

"This is Ravyn, Ravyn, this is my main man Colin."

"Hi," I say quietly, giving him a small wave.

"Sup?" He nods his head. Holding the joint up in his hand, he says, "You smoke?"

"No," I answer quickly. It's the same as drinking- I don't want to get to the point of not having control over myself, so I won't even take a hit. I don't know how I'll react if I try.

Jaron pushes Colin's hand away. "Dude, I can't smoke anyways. You know that."

"Fuck, that's right, probation sucks dick." Colin puts the joint behind his ear. "Fuck it, I'll smoke it later. So what's up man, what are you doing here?" He walks backwards into the room he just came from, as Jaron and I follow him in.

I sit next to Jaron on a couch that is covered in three different blankets with a variety of colors and sizes, while his friend Colin sits in a computer chair, turning the radio up. Some gangster rap shit thumps through the speakers. I have no idea what I just got myself involved in by joining Jaron on this adventure.

"Needed to get out of that place. You have no idea how claustrophobic I feel already."

"You've been there all of two weeks."

"And it's already hell."

"Fuck man, too bad you can't smoke."

I decide that now is the perfect time to turn my phone back on. I don't care about seeing this side of Jaron, nor listening to the music playing on the radio. Dawn has sent over fifteen more messages just since last night, letting me know how angry she is with me for not at least answering her.

Me
:
I'm fine.

Only seconds pass by when I receive a message back.

Dawn
:
Are you kidding me?! Why are you JUST NOW ANSWERING ME?!

Me
:
I had my phone off...

Dawn
:
Your mom is about to do a missing persons report. Your brother even came around to look for you. Are you with that Jaron guy?

Me
:
No. I went for a long walk. I'll be back sometime in the next couple days.

Dawn
:
Where are you? I'll come pick you up.

Me
:
I'm fine.

Dawn
:
Wow, Ravyn. You're being dramatic

Me
:
...Thanks

"Who’s that?" Jaron asks. I look up to see Colin isn't even in the room right now. I don't have a clue how long since he walked out of the room.

I glance back down to see another message from Dawn.

"My friend."

"Kyler?" I can hear the genuine concern in his voice.

"No. Dawn." In fact, Kyler hasn't even
tried
to contact me. I'm quite surprised he hasn't at least sent one message to me or called, mainly for the sake he probably doesn't want me tell on him. Although I've been an idiot for this long, he probably knows that I'm not one to
rat him out
as he's put it before.

Jaron slowly nods his head up and down. "She worried?"

"I guess," I answer with a shrug. "I'm not really sure. She's acting it, but she's acting more pissed than anything."

"You know he's lied to everyone, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"He got caught by more than one witness. He went to his dad, got a family lawyer involved, and is covering his ass. When we get back it's not going to be as if nothing happened, a lot of things will come to light. He's pissed his secret is out."

"Oh." I stare back down at the new message from Dawn, telling me that I need to at least call my mom. "What if I don't want people to know? It's my secret too, and it's embarrassing."

Jaron slides closer to me and without any kind of notice wraps me in his embrace. My body stiffens automatically but relaxes almost instantly after, allowing him to ease my mind. "Don't be embarrassed," he whispers in my ear. "Don't be scared, or ashamed, or anything else besides angry. You have every right to be that."

"I let it happen."

Pulling back some, Jaron stares down at me, hypnotizing me with those soft, multi-colored eyes of his. "You have more strength in you than you realize. You knew that if you told on him that he'd make you look like a fool, maybe even ruin your life. Hell, in the wrong situation he may have taken your life completely. You did what you needed to do to survive in a sense, even if you don't realize it."

"How do you know so much about all of this?"

"My life has-"

The door barges back open and Colin walks in with three other guys, one of them covered in dreadlocks wearing a Bob Marley shirt. Colin picks up a large Ziploc bag full of what I believe to be pot and tosses it at one of his buddies. "Freshly harvested."

The guy opens the bag and takes a long sniff. "Fuck yeah, that's what I'm talking about it. How much you asking?"

Ignoring them once more, I message Dawn back, telling her I'll call home. Jaron pats my leg before standing up, probably knowing this isn’t my kind of crowd. "I'll catch up with you soon, we're going to go grab something to eat."

Colin only nods his head at us as he continues to talk about drugs to his friends. I'm thankful to get out of here, and I do not want to ever return. I hate anything to do with drugs, I've dealt with it all long enough.

Down the road a ways we stop in at a bar. I can sense myself getting frustrated with all the nonsense this day has already brought- wearing the same clothes as yesterday, being around weed and loud rap music, now a bar. Apparently Jaron
isn't
the type of person I thought he was. Then again, I learned a while ago that no one is ever as they first appear.

"You okay?" Jaron asks when we enter through the front door.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He sighs heavily behind me while we walk towards the bar together. "Stop with the
I'm fine
bullshit. Talk with me, tell me how you really feel."

I peak over at him curiously, wondering why he actually wants me to tell him how I feel, even if that means bitching and complaining- something most guys despise. It's really not worth the effort to explain my feelings, I've gone most of my life avoiding telling people how I feel, so instead I shrug it off. "I said I'm fine."

Jaron actually rolls his eyes as he steps up to the bar. "A Sprite and a...?" He looks at me for an answer as to what I want to drink. I'm shocked that he didn’t pick an alcoholic beverage for himself, you know, since we're in a bar and all.

"Um, a Diet Dr. Pepper is fine, thanks."

"You got it," the bartender answers, grabbing two glasses and filling them up. "That'll be three dollars."

Placing a twenty down on the counter, Jaron says, "I'll add in a round of pool, two grilled cheeses, and a plate of fries."

The bartender takes the twenty from Jaron and in exchange passes him a tray of pool balls. "Table seven."

When he gets his change back, we walk over to table seven, as I hold the drinks and Jaron holds the balls. There is a small, square table next to the pool table, where I set the drinks and sit in one of the chairs. Jaron gets everything set up for us and even grabs us each a stick from the wall.

"Ever play before?" he asks when he hands me a stick.

"No," I answer honestly. "Although I've watched my mom and her boyfriend once a few years ago."

"They didn't let you try?" He holds a brow up curiously, obviously surprised to hear that my mother is that much of a bitch.

My response is to laugh bitterly before taking a sip of my soda. "Thanks, by the way," I tell him, holding my cup up to him.

“Not a problem.” He grabs a blue square chalk looking thing, rubbing it against the end of the pool stick. He does the same with mine. By the time everything is set up, the bartender is placing the sandwiches and fries on our table, walking off without so much as a smile.

"How did you know about this place?" I ask Jaron when he sits across from me.

He grabs the ketchup, squirting it over the steaming hot fries. "I lived here for a few months a couple years back."

"So that is how you know about Colin?"

"He's my cousin."

"Oh." I watch him take a few fries, never asking if I want one, so I don't bother taking one. "Did you used to smoke?" I remember him saying he couldn't for the sake of being on probation. I'm finding out more about Jaron than I care to know about it, but I ask the questions anyways.

Jaron chuckles softly, like something amuses him, then he looks me in the eyes. He is always making eye contact and each time he does, it gives my heart a bit of a jumpstart. "I used to do a lot of things I regret."

"What made you stop? Probation?"

"Among other things." His voice drops any hint of amusement.

Since I obviously hit a nerve of some sort, I look around the bar instead of asking any more questions. It's dark in here. There are two small windows near the bar and that's it. The walls are covered in different artifacts, mainly of local sports trophies or tee-shirts and newspaper cut outs. Only three other people are in here aside from us, all sitting at a table near the bar drinking beer. I was expecting Jaron to buy a beer or something alcoholic. Maybe he can't have that because of probation as well.

I'm glad he didn't drink anything though, I wouldn't have wanted to ride with him after he's had a drink. I've had to ride with Bruce a few times while he was either drunk or high, probably both actually. It was always terrifying, especially the one time he had fallen asleep at the wheel. The truck started veering off to the side of the road where there was a large gully. I had to reach over and grab the wheel, straightening it out as the truck started to speed up. I yelled and screamed for Bruce to wake up, and when he jolted from his spot behind the wheel, he knocked my hands out of the way and screamed at me for distracting him. I was only twelve.