Page 45 of Fight or Flight
A few weeks of living out in the real world again opened my eyes. I wouldn’t say I’ll be starving anytime soon, but man, do I have an epiphany when it comes to the hardships of living on my own. Growing up, I never swam in money, but Saint always provided everything I needed after I came to live with him. Sure, I had to work for him, but it wasn’t the same.
Working on the construction sites and watching the architects work on the side gave me an idea. So, I called my parole officer, Sandra, to ask if it’s even possible for a person on parole to get some funds to study. Two days later, she called me to say that she got me into some kind of rehabilitation education program for ex-convicts, and they happened to do courses on architecture and design.
However, I was not ready to share the news with people other than Tommy in case I turned out to be horrible at it and failed.
I glare at him now and throw under my breath, “Blabbermouth.” To which he winces and lowers his head, looking like a timid little boy.
To Brody and Frank, I say, “Look, yeah, I can draw, but I’m not an architect. I don’t know if I would be any good at it...”
The old man claps his hands as if it’s settled and grins. “A perfect way to practice and learn then. I’ll tell ya, boy, the school is one thing, but life experience is more valuable than that. Think of how much easier it will be for you if you already have one project under your belt.”
Brody rubs at his face as I mull it over and then lifts his head to look at me. “Look, Aidan, we’re not swimming in cash here by any means. I could do it myself, like when I was first building it to save money. But I just don’t have the fucking time or patience, and... I’m getting too fucking old, I guess. Not to mention my fucked up leg. You can draw, and I know you’re creative as fuck and resourceful when needed to be. I’m willing to trust that you can come up with something good. Then you and Tommy can work on it together after your regular shift to earn extra money. It can be a good chance for you to prove yourself, just as Frank said.”
“Uh, when you put it that way... I can’t really say no,” I scratch at my head and look at the house through a new set of eyes. Right away, an idea enters my mind, and I smile at the two men looking at me expectantly. “All right, I think I can come up with a few ideas.”
Brody nods his head, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “Glad to hear it. Tomorrow, I’ll give you the plans of the house so you can have the full picture. But if you want to take a look inside to see if it sparks something, we can go in. The girls are out from what I know.”
“Yeah, okay,” I agree and follow him and Frank as they walk back toward the front yard.
Tommy quickens his steps, so we walk shoulder to shoulder. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think.”
I punch his arm but smile. “We’re cool.”
“Okay,” he replies softly, clearly relieved.
We just round the corner of the house when a car pulls up into the driveway.
“Guess we’ll be taking a rain check on the house tour,” Brody throws over his shoulder, his expression light and happy before he walks to greet the obviously pregnant young woman, who exits the driver’s side. Her wild, curly hair waves in the wind as she steps on her tippy-toes to kiss him.
Then she looks down and glares. “Where’s your stick?”
Brody leans toward her ear to whisper something, and she snorts loudly before rolling her eyes.
He moves back with a grin, and it’s then that my attention snaps to the movement on the other side of the car.
I see the top of a blonde head before it disappears by the back passenger door. Not even a minute later, a small boy rounds the vehicle to run straight at Frank.
“Uncle Frank!” He squeals happily and jumps up and down with a wide smile, revealing a wide gap of a missing tooth.
“And what am I? Thin air?” Brody teases from behind him, and the boy twirls around, forgetting the old man, as he quickly slams into his father’s legs.
“Daddy! Aunt Claire bought me an ice cream cone, but she told me it’s gonna be our secret,” he tattles.
Until that point, me and Tommy were standing awkwardly to the side, watching the family scene unfold, uncertain what to do with ourselves, but at the mention of the name, my whole body turned on alert.
It couldn’t possibly be her, right? I mean, what are the odds?
Soon enough, I get my answer when the person rummaging in the trunk rounds the car with hands full of plastic bags. And the time literally stops. In one millisecond, I drink her sight from bottom to top, trying to absorb everything as if afraid that she’s just a product of my imagination that will disintegrate as soon as I blink.
Claire gives Brody her trademark sweet smile and then laughs. The sound makes my chest hurt, and I rub at the place to stop the burning sensation.
“And you have no idea what a secret means, right?” She asks the little guy, to which he shakes his head, but his smile is mischievous.
“Here, let me help you carry the stuff, girlie,” Frank reaches out his arms, but Claire just shakes her head and sidesteps him.
“Nah, I got it. I’ll just...” our eyes meet, and she stills as if she slammed into an invisible wall.
Her skin turns even paler than it was, to the point that her lips turn almost purple. And I can see them moving slightly as she mouths my name.