Chapter Twenty Seven (sorta, I think)

He hoisted his arm up so that he was holding on by his armpits, bare feet most likely gripping the drain pipe. I know. I could get up and down that gutter pipe with my eyes closed.


"A hand please?" Grey grunted, shifting.


"Oh I'm sorry, what did you say?" I thought briefly of smiling innocently, but I didn't feel like smiling in any way, shape, or form, so I didn't.


"Help up. Please," he was going red.


"I really think that I have something in my ear. Let me go wash it out. One minute."


I chuckled bitterly, walked to the bathroom and back.


"Okay better. What did you want?" He was still struggling.


"Hell-" he grunted.


"You bad boy." I didn't say it with any enthusiasm.


He made the 'p' sound. "HELP!"


"Oh. Why didn't you just say so?" I hauled him in. He brushed himself off. "The door," I pointed, "is that way. I highly recommend that you use it."

He ignored me, kicking aside plates of stale pizza and bags of crisps that had spilled across the floor. He sat down on the bed and surveyed the room.

"Want to talk?" I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

"What do you think?"

"That you need to get your butt out of this room." I shot what I hoped was a piercing glance in his direction.

"Grey, I have stuff to do. I would love you to stay, but that's just not going to happen. Thanks for stopping by."

He didn't move. I wriggled my toes inside my socks, listening to the silence. It was quiet, and the quiet hung like a barrier between us. It reminded me of what I needed to do, what I had needed to do for the past five years, what he knew I needed to do.

"I should have told not to get on the bus. We had dentist appointments, and our parents were picking us up." I shifted. Grey waited.

"But he got on the bus, because I forgot to tell him not to. When we found out that he was on the bus, we drove to the bus stop. We met one of the kids on the way, he rode that bus," I paused, walked over to Mohawk's cage. I glanced at Grey. He was watching me.

Picking Mohawk up, I continued,"He told us that yes, he had seen Jimmy on the bus. The bus had just stopped at our stop. So we drove along the roads that Jimmy and I walked every day," I stroked Mohawk gently. He moved his bad leg awkwardly. Grey smiled encouraging. "My mum had this look on her face. It was as if someone had drawn wrinkles on her forehead. In ten minutes she looked ten years older. 'He's probably at home. Yes, he is.' She started arguing with herself. My dad was all business.

"He wasn't at home. He wasn't anywhere. An hour later, we called the police. An amber alert was sent out. The entire community flooded us with flowers and cards. They formed search parties."

I bit my lip. Mohawk sat contently in my palm. I examined his back as I continued, "But they didn't find him. They didn't even find a suspect. No one knew, no one does know, if he was taken or if he just wandered off and couldn't get back home. After a year we sorta gave up hope.

"My mum, she just stopped everything. She got a new wardrobe. No more flowy skirts, no colourful jewelry. Just business suits. She quit going to feminist meetings. She stopped cooking. She hired a maid to do that, so that she could spend all day cleaning. Don't ask."

"My dad, he just left, not as in got a new house, but he might have well of. He got promoted. He stopped playing pool in the basement. He didn't always come home for dinner. He still doesn't."

"This family didn't pull together. We just separated. I still remember lying on the floor in my room, and everything that I didn't want was in my head. The tears were pouring down my cheeks. And I knew, Grey, I knew that my mum was in her room, doing the exact same thing. But I couldn't go to her. I just couldn't." I glanced up at Grey. His head was down, staring at his hands, fidgeting in his lap.

He looked up at me. "What about you Alice? What happened to you?"

I smiled bitterly. "After a year, no one wanted to face it. No one has even now. Jimmy was dead. He couldn't still be alive." I bit my lip violently, my jaw quivering with strngth, gentle tears forming. My teeth broke the skin and small droplets of blood flowed into my mouth. I kissed Mohawk gently, swallowing the blood. "After that time in my room, I realized how pointless this was. I hated it. I friggin' hated going home every day and sobbing alone on the floor of my room. So I stopped. I just stopped. I kept my mouth shut. I stopped trying to tell my parents that I was sorry. I went quiet. I stopped believing in people. In life. I just gave up.

"But I still blamed myself. I still do."

"Why?" He brought his head up and waited.

"Because it was my fault. I should have told Jimmy not to go on the bus. I never did. If I had, he would still be here. But I didn't, and he's not. I killed him Grey, it was my fault."

There was a long pause. I watched thoughts running through his head. I held a proud face, but tears were streaming gently down my face. I rubbed Mohawk with the back of my thumb.

Grey looked up at me. I looked, gazed, stared into his eyes. I didn't know what he saw in mine, but I gave it to him. I let him see, I let him have whatever was there for him to take.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, looking back down at his hands. I looked back at Mohawk, ran my tongue along the cuts on my lip.

"I am too Grey. I am too."