When To Let Go (2 page)

When Ava told him about all the other times the boyfriend had touched her and the things he forced her to do with her hand, Parker hoped he had killed the bastard. He didn't tell Ava that. He only held her tighter and told her one of her favorite stories until she fell asleep.

Parker kissed the top of her head. “No one will ever hurt you again, Ava. I promise,” he vowed, not knowing that was a hard vow for anyone to keep, let alone a ten-year-old boy.

He remained awake all night, drifting off for only a minute here and there, wanting to be alert in case anyone tried getting in. He needed to make sure his sister was safe.

The next few weeks were the same, traveling as far as they could go by day. Every night they found a new park to sleep in, some worse than others. At night when his sister was asleep he allowed himself to be scared and cry. Parker still had the money from selling the drugs so they were able to afford food, but he rationed how much, wanting the money to last.

One morning, Ava woke with a temperature so high it made his own body heat up. Sweat covered her entire body. No amount of Tylenol helped to bring it down.

Two days later, right before nightfall, Parker knew Ava needed a doctor when she wouldn't respond to him and seemed incapable of opening her eyes.

He was terrified as he entered the emergency room, but at least his sister would get the help she needed.

Parker approached the nurse's desk with a passed out Ava in his arms. Two nurses rushed over at the sight of two little kids in dirty, wrinkled clothes that smelled horrible. They took Ava, asking Parker questions about her state before rushing off, leaving him behind. He sat in the waiting room, trying his best to stay strong, worried about his sister.

A few hours later a nurse came, leading him to a different part of the hospital where his sister was.

The sight of her frail body in the big hospital bed almost had him crying, but he didn't want to be a wimp in front of the others. He swallowed down a massive lump, taking a seat next to his sister's sleeping body. He was happy to find her hand wasn't as warm; clammy, but not warm.

“She caught an infection and was severely dehydrated, but she'll be fine,” the nurse reassured him, patting his back. “Do you have a parent or guardian we can call?”

Parker shook his head no. What was the use in lying? They would eventually figure out the truth.

“That's what I was afraid of,” she mumbled more to herself. “You stay here and watch your sister. She needs your comfort. I'll be right back.”

Parker knew when the nurse came back she wouldn't be alone.

He was right.

Thirteen-year-old Ryder sized up the new kid, wondering how big a threat he was. Rumor had it that he'd just been kicked out of his third foster home that year. Apparently he liked to fight, taking no mercy on his opponents.

Ryder had a hard time believing the rumors as he watched the new kid eat his spaghetti, mumbling a “thank you” when their foster “mom” placed a glass of milk near him. He appeared to be one of those pretty boys, except that the few times the kid glanced up it was hard not to notice that his clear, blue eyes were hard and dead; the way most were who had demons trapped inside. It was the only reason Ryder didn't completely doubt the rumors.

That could be very bad for Ryder, as he wasn't much of a fighter. He was the type of kid who kept his head down, avoiding confrontation (as well as people). Most kids left him alone, understanding when a kid was more messed up than they were. Unfortunately, there were still the few who preyed on his weaknesses.

The other three kids Ryder lived with were eying the new kid at the table just as fiercely. No one liked when someone new came; it always disrupted the flow.

Ryder was born into the system; his mother had left him at a fire station when he was a newborn. This was his ninth foster home and one of the more decent ones. They pretty much all sucked, just some were worse than others. A lot worse. Ryder had had experience with the sickest of pricks. It wasn't just the men either; women could be equally as malicious. He learned early on to stay to himself.

Ryder pushed away the memories that tried to pop up; evil was always best to keep far behind you.

At bedtime Ryder opened the window by his twin bed all the way to the top. He rested on his back, only a fitted sheet to keep warm. He couldn't stand blankets; they were too stifling.

“You're going to freeze to death,” the foster “dad” said at the entryway with a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth.

“I'll be fine.”

He shrugged at Ryder, smoke exhaling from his nostrils before continuing down the hall.

Ryder's favorite kind of foster “parents” were like the ones in this house: the ones who did it for the money, but had enough heart to make sure they were all given basic human needs and interfered as little as possible.

A chill whipped through the room, the kind that let you know winter was coming. Ryder hated winter. Winter meant closed windows and time spent indoors. As soon as he turned eighteen he would move to a state that stayed warm all year round, where he could sleep outside at night if he wanted to.

The new kid, who slept across from him in an identical twin bed, pulled his blanket tighter around himself, glaring at the open window as it blew in a frosty breeze.

He opened his mouth and Ryder prayed he wouldn't demand that he close it. Ryder had been through this before and it resulted in Ryder getting a fat lip and a closed window, making it so he couldn't sleep all night feeling like he was suffocating.

The new kid’s mouth closed after searching Ryder's wide, worried eyes.

To his relief, the new kid rolled over to face the wall.

Ryder woke up screaming from a nightmare, his limbs flailing about, covered in sweat. Nobody came to check on him; the house was used to it. Ryder appreciated that, preferring to be ignored.

He looked over and found the new kid observing him. Ryder stared back, expecting him to say something. Instead, the new kid turned his head toward the ceiling.

Ryder wasn't able to fall back asleep and noticed the new kid couldn’t either.

“You got a name?” Ryder asked the new kid, having not paid attention when he was told earlier that day.

“Parker,” the boy answered, eyes still wide awake, staring up at the popcorn ceiling as though it was a constellation of stars and worth the attention.

“Are you one of those kids who doesn't sleep?” He had had a roommate once who was always twitchy, only sleeping for a few hours a day.

“Bad things happen at night,” the kid answered. “I like to stay alert.”

“You don't get tired?”

“I find time to sleep in the day.”

Ryder understood. The worst kinds of evil lurked in the dark. He hated that he wasn't the only kid to know that.

“The shed out back still has blankets and pillows in it from awhile back. The kid who made it didn't sleep at night either. Nobody will bother you there. Plus, it doesn't have a door and all the windows are bare so it's obvious if anything shady is going down. Trouble usually avoids it.”

The boy didn't respond.

That was fine with Ryder. It had been one of the longest conversations he'd ever had and it exhausted him. He figured he didn't have to talk again for the rest of the month.

The next afternoon Ryder spotted the new kid going inside the shed and not coming out until dinner time. At the table he gave Ryder a half smile of appreciation that Ryder didn't return. Smiling always felt weird on him.

Tonight was Ryder's turn to shower. He kept the shower curtain wide open when he was in the tub, mopping up the wet floor afterward with his towel.

He had once lived at a place that only had a shower stall. It was physically impossible for Ryder to go in there, so he had had to use a hose out back to get clean. It wasn't so bad. If he ever got a place of his own he wanted an outdoor bathroom set on his own private property, tucked away from the world. It would just be him, and maybe a dog.

When Ryder was finished and dried off, he twisted the door knob but it wouldn't budge. He tried several times, sweat forming on his dark hairline. He rammed into it with his shoulder hoping to bust it open. He heard the familiar laughter of the other kids and even a chuckle from the foster parents, who never played the pranks but didn’t stop them either.

Right away his vision started to blur and the air felt trapped in his lungs. He screamed as best he could and pounded on the door, tears streaming down his face. The walls were getting too close. Ryder couldn’t take it. He was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to get out of there before the darkness took over.

Then the door opened, which had never happened. They usually waited until he passed out before opening it.

The new kid stood there wide-eyed at a tear-streaked Ryder, who was still trying to catch his breath, panting as though he had just run a marathon. He wanted to tell the kid to quit staring and leave him alone, except he could hardly get in the air to do it. Instead, Ryder shoved past him to go outside. He stayed there half the night, getting lost in the stars.

A few days later Ryder's hands shook as he went to take another shower, fearful they would do it again. To his relief, the door opened when he finished.

He stood there in shock with what he found: the new kid was standing with his arms crossed, as though daring anyone to mess with him or what was behind him, which happened to be the door to the bathroom.

“I don't need your protection,” Ryder grumbled in humiliation, hating the kid for thinking he was weak and needed a bodyguard.

The new kid only shrugged and walked away.

For Ryder's next shower the new kid was there again, guarding the door. Ryder didn't say anything, because truthfully, it was a relief to know he wouldn't get trapped in there anymore.

After a few weeks of this, Ryder began inviting the new kid (who he had started calling by name, something he’d never bothered with in the past) to join him after school to mess around the town, eventually showing Parker how he would break into cars to steal stuff.

If anybody messed with them, Parker fought them. For an eleven-year-old, the kid could fight. He went crazy on the dudes. It shocked Ryder the first time he saw it. Parker was always so quiet and calm; however, he was a monster when he fought, turning bright red with wild eyes. Ryder would never admit this to anyone, but it scared the shit out of him. He was thankful the kid was on his side.

One day, after Parker had beat the crap out of an adult for thinking he could steal their money, a mechanic from the nearby auto shop called them over. The two boys were ready to book it, but before they shot off the guy came closer, saying he had a job for them if they were interested in earning more money.

Parker and Ryder didn't trust anybody, but they listened to the man, intrigued by what it could be.

He needed certain parts for his shop. He'd make them a list and pay them a ten percent finder’s fee. Parker said thirty or no deal. The guy agreed.

Not only did they earn large sums of money, but the guys at the shop took the boys in and taught them all about cars – how to rebuild them and how to fix 'em.

Early on they learned that Ryder couldn't be under or inside a car for too long before he panicked (part of the reason why he was so quick with stealing parts), so the man who worked on motorcycles took him on.

The two boys loved it there. It became their “real” home. The guys even let them borrow magazines full of naked women.

The guy that had hired them to steal parts happened to be the owner, Rocco. He noticed how the boys were always distracted, staring at the girls’ chests who were always hanging around.

One night, Rocco had the boys come hang out at his place with the rest of the auto shop workers.

Women were everywhere, and not just any kind of women: they looked identical to those in the magazines the boys were always gaping at.

Rocco lead the boys to a bedroom with two big-breasted women who appeared more than twice the boys' age. He left the boys alone with them.

They both lost their virginity that night.

Parker became an addict, finding a girl three or four times a day, with anybody who was willing. He even got the older girls at school to do things with him.

Ryder was pickier, usually sticking to the same couple of women; they understood he never wanted to be touched and never bothered to find out why. All he had to do was pay them some cash.

He eventually learned Parker had a six-year-old sister. They had been separated when taken into the system.

Ryder rode along with Parker on the bus the next time he went to visit her. They had a secret meeting place they met at twice a month. They only had about five minutes, but it seemed to be enough to keep Parker satisfied that his sister was being well cared for. She was fortunate to be in the kind of home where the couple actually wanted to make a difference.

Ryder had had one of those for about a minute and it was awesome.

The little girl would always jump into Parker's arms, squealing with happiness when they arrived.

Ryder was envious of their bond. He’d never had anybody love him. Ryder didn't even recall ever being truly hugged. That's why Ryder didn’t like to be touched and always wore long sleeves. He'd had such lack of skin contact that it made his chest and stomach hurt when it happened, so he found it best to just avoid all together.

Parker's little sister always had a cupcake for him, and after a couple meetings had one for Ryder too. The first time she lept into his arms for a hug, Ryder panicked. Something about the little girl had him hugging her back, a part of him never wanting to let go, relishing the affection.

Parker and Ryder shared a little bit of their pasts with each other. Both held back details, only giving enough away to better understand the other. Ryder explained how he had one of the worst cases of claustrophobia his social worker had ever seen. The only explanation he could muster was that it stemmed from a nefarious foster home, not having the stomach to explain how when he was four, the couple would lock him in a hole in their closet for days with no food or water, forcing him to sleep locked in the dark, stuffy hole every night. He lived that way for three years until they got busted.

No, not lived.

Existed.

Over the next year Ryder and Parker became closer than best friends. It became more of a brotherhood, and he came to think of Parker's little sister, Ava, as his sister too.

Ryder finally had the family he'd always secretly wished for.

When almost a year later Parker's social worker came to get him, claiming he had been adopted, Ryder was in denial, expecting him to come back any day. Nobody adopted older kids – especially ones with Parker's reputation of having a short fuse and bad attitude.

Not long after, Ryder was caught stealing car parts, landing him in a juvenile detention center. He would remain there until he turned eighteen.

He never got to find out where Parker and Ava went or if they were in good hands. He didn’t get to say goodbye to the guys at the shop either. In the course of a few weeks he had lost the only home and family he had ever known. Ryder shut down. This was why he distanced himself from people. Getting attached only brought pain.