Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“No, we really can’t,” I say. “I already have dinner for us,” I lie. The last thing I want to tell him is that I have seven dollars left in my bank account, and that I’m going to use most of it on the bus rides now. He just nods, and I don’t say anything for the rest of the way home.
When he turns on our street, my heart starts to beat faster. It’s going to be no surprise that we live in a not-so-great area. And that the five apartment buildings placed in a baseball diamond shape are for the low income.
“You can just drop us off here,” I say when he pulls between building one and two. He pulls over, and then when the car shuts off, I undo my seat belt and get out. Justin is already out of the SUV and opening the back door to help Dylan out. I stand in the back, not sure how to even open his trunk. He comes over and opens the door, handing me the hockey bag and Dylan the gym bag. “You go to bed early tonight,” he tells Dylan, holding out his arm to fist bump him. “Don’t stay up late watching television.”
“We don’t have a TV,” Dylan says. My eyes fly to Dylan’s as my heart speeds up. “But I’ll go to bed early,” he says and comes to stand next to me.
I look at Justin, who just stands there, and the bottom of my neck starts to get hot. “Dylan, say thank you to Coach Stone.”
“Thank you, Justin,” he says and fist bumps him again, and then turns to walk to our apartment building.
“Thank you so much,” I say and turn to walk away. I don’t look behind me. One, I’m afraid he’ll catch me looking at him, and two, I don’t want to see that look of pity on his face at the fact we don’t have a television. Dylan’s hand slides into mine, and blinking away tears, I look down at him, knowing how much he has suffered through all this.
“What do you want to eat for dinner?” I ask him, and he shrugs. “How about some mac and cheese?” I suggest his favorite meal, and he just smiles. As we walk up the stairs, it gets hotter and hotter. I’m not even going to think about how hot it is in our apartment.
Unlocking the door, I walk in, not looking at anything, and then I hear Dylan shriek, “Dad!” My head snaps up as I see Andrew sitting on the couch. The hockey bag drops on the floor at the same time Dylan runs to him and Andrew hugs him. It’s been two months since we’ve seen him. Two months of peace for me. I close the door and toss the keys on the small kitchen table.
“Go take a shower, Dylan. I’m going to start dinner,” I say, and he looks at me and walks to the bathroom. I wait for the door to close and the water to turn on before I turn back and look at Andrew. The man I used to love, the man who promised me everything would be okay, the man who’s lied to me over and over again.
“What are you doing here, Andrew?” I ask him, folding my arms over my chest.
“I missed you guys,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“I have no money for you,” I say. “And there is nothing left for you to sell either.”
“I’m not here for that,” he says, and I look at him and see the shell of the man he used to be. His dirty jeans, his yellowed shoes, his gray shirt with stains all over it, but more importantly, the needle marks up and down his arm.
“You really have to go,” I say.
“Why are you being like that?” he says, getting up and coming closer to me. He smells like he hasn’t showered in weeks. “I just need a place to crash for the night.”
I’m about to tell him to get out of the house when the door opens and Dylan sticks his head out. “Mom, can I wear one of the new shirts to bed?”
“Yeah, honey,” I say, grabbing the new bag and looking over to see Andrew’s eyes go from me to the bag. “Keep that in there with you and then put it in the bedroom when you are done with it.”
“Okay, Mom,” he says, closing the door, and I turn back to Andrew.
“You can’t stay here,” I say.
“Why not?” he whines, and I just shake my head.
“Because the last time you came here, so did your dealer,” I hiss. “Then he came back every freaking day until I paid him the five hundred dollars you owed him!” I shout.
“I’m going to pay you back,” he says, and I turn around, walking to the cabinet and taking out a pot. “You know I just have—”