Page 5 of Fall From Grace

Two weeks into living in our new home, I experienced a taste of what Noah’s life was like. He had been taking too long to come over, and I was so impatient and tired of waiting. Mom had made me promise not to go over to the trailers where he lived, but I couldn’t obey the rule that day, much like how I couldn’t stop myself from playing in the hills when she told me not to.

I knew which trailer was his. I made sure to watch the evenings he ran off to his house when the sun was setting in the sky after we had played all day. Out of all of the trailers, his was the dirtiest. The once white trailer was colored with green mold on its side and trash littered the ground around it like his parents were hoarders of scraps and metals. By the time my flip-flops hit the first step on the porch, I was a little wary about testing the steps. The porch was a lost cause and barely reached the door, there was a gap of at least half a foot between the two.

The door was open except for the screen door. I peeked inside and tapped my tiny knuckles onto the glass. I was moments from running inside when I saw the woman lying on the stained yellow sofa passed out. Her legs were spread eagle and her arms were sprawled out at her sides. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes were looking upward, completely void of life. It was the scariest thing I’d seen. Fear and worry for the woman clawed up my stomach, chest, and throat in a rush.

There was movement inside the trailer. My eyes widened and reached for the handle; my thoughts were running back and forth between going inside to check on her or rushing back to the house to get my mom who was an adult.

The coffee table was littered with needles, cigarettes, and pills. Was this Noah’s mom? Was she sick?

A man stepped to the door and I recognized this man as Noah’s dad immediately. There was no mistaking the color of his hair and eyes that were so much like Noah’s. Even before I discovered his parents were addicts, his dad would have been a handsome man before his addictions prematurely aged his skin and destroyed his teeth.

Behind him, I saw Noah go to the woman on the sofa. He hadn’t thought that I would be the one knocking on the door. He started tapping her shoulder. “Mom,” he waited. “Mom. Mom!” He sounded both worried and annoyed. “Why did you let her get this way again?” he yelled, and I thought it must be his dad he was yelling at. “Dad! Get over here and check on her. Or don’t, I’ll call 9-1-1.”

Noah’s dad looked down at me and smiled, flashing yellowish teeth before stepping in my line of sight so that I could no longer see Noah. “You know how your mom gets when she’s resting… stop being overdramatic.”

“She’s not—”

“Eh, Noah didn’t tell me he had a little girlfriend.” He turned his head. “Is this where you disappear to at night?” He gave away another secret of Noah’s in that moment.

Noah rushed to the door with wide, fearful eyes. When he saw me, he grabbed his shoes and rushed out the door. “Noah?” I whispered nervously, but he took my wrist and led me down the steps, out of the trailer park, and across the road back to my house. “Noah, is your mom okay?” I asked but I got no words from him until we were tucked away inside the treehouse.

“Don’t go back to my house,” he told me. The look on his face scared me. I’d never seen him look so serious before, even when we first met arguing over the treehouse.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, “you were taking so long…”

“Just promise me not to go back over there, okay?” He propped his elbow on his knee and looked at me so earnestly that I dropped my eyes. “Bad people show up at my house, it’s not safe.”

He said things I couldn’t comprehend. “What do you mean, bad guys?” I shook my head softly. “Why would bad people go to your house?”

“Not everyone’s parents are as put together as yours, Grace!” he snapped, then his eyes widened in realization. He spoke softly this time, “If I tell you, you can’t tell your parents.”

My stomach knotted. “Why?”

“Because I could get taken from my parents if anyone decided to call and report them… and even though… they’re still my parents,” he said begrudgingly.

I grabbed his hand. “I won’t, I promise.” I was telling the truth. The thought of him going away and leaving me, I hated the thought.

“My parents are addicts.”

“Addicts?” I knew what the word meant. Mom often said I was addicted to popsicles. I just didn’t know what was so bad that his parents were addicted to.

“Just leave it at that, Grace,” he told me. “Pretend you don’t know, I didn’t want you to know.”

I realized how little I really did know about life that day. I saw my friend differently. He was more than a boy, maybe a man in a boy’s suit, but that wasn’t entirely right either... Maybe somewhere in between a kid and having to grow up faster than he was supposed to.

I did the only thing I knew to do. “Noah.” He lifted his head. “Where’s my adventure?”

He smiled. We were once again as we’d been for the past two weeks.

_____

That night, with his dad’s words ringing in my ear, I sat by my window flipping through pages of a book as I watched the treehouse. Noah had gone home around eight. I had bathed and gotten ready for bed. It was a little after nine and all I could think about was how I had thought Noah had been living in the treehouse… and with his dad’s words from earlier, I waited.

Thankfully, the moon was full that night, and the porch light didn’t reach out to the treehouse. My heart soared the moment I saw his thin form darting across the lawn. I slammed the book shut and got up. My parents were still up watching TV, which was the very reason I had told them I was going to bed earlier than I normally did so they wouldn’t come upstairs to check on me. I tiptoed across the house and slipped out the back door easily. The moment my bare feet touched the cold, wet ground, I grinned and took off sprinting toward the treehouse.

A flashlight beamed down at me as I climbed the rope. “What are you doing?” Noah whisper-hissed at me.

I slung my legs over and pushed him back so I could move past him. I smiled lightly and took his flashlight, pointing it at him. He sighed, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Do you sleep here every night, Noah?” I asked softly.