Read Let Me In for Free Online Page A

have work and a heavy course load today, no amount of distractions will keep the memory very far from my mind.
    I climb into the beat-up truck I bought my freshman year with money I received from my high school graduation. To say it was in bad shape would be a severe understatement, but I haven’t had to put a lot of money into the truck and it gets me from place to place. It’ll suffice until I start my career. The back tires slide to the right when I pull out onto the icy road, reminding me I need to buy a bag of kitty litter to throw in the truck bed in order to stop the hunk of junk from slipping all over the road.
    The sign reads “Water Springs” in a nice, calming script on a cement block, centered in what I assume was a bed of flowers. But like everything else in January, there are only bare branches sticking out of large mounds of white ice. The long winding driveway leads me to a wide, one-story building with few cars in the parking lot. I walk in and give my name to the friendly, middle-aged lady behind the desk. This is my first time here so I have to show my ID. She looks at it and then back to me before instructing me to take a seat. The waiting room is small, with only a few grey fabric seats and a handful of magazines on a table. The pamphlets next to me are all directed toward the family members of addicts.
    “Mr. Bishop?” a girl maybe a few years older than me calls out after opening the locked door.
    I stand up to meet her and she smiles over at me. She’s definitely a girl who pique s my interest. Usually I fill this day with drinking or girls, often both to make the day go by faster.
    Her long blonde hair is thrown up in a loose pony-tail that sways from side to side as she leads me into another room. “Please have a seat and he’ll be in shortly,” she instructs, and I notice her nametag reads “Tessa”. Well shit. With a name that automatically brings Jessa to mind, there goes any chance I might have had to be with this girl.
    The room has two matching beige sofas across from one another with a large glass coffee table resting between them. A small fridge sits in the corner with a coffee pot on the table beside it. A note says to help yourself, so I grab a Styrofoam cup and pour myself a cup of coffee before sitting down on one of the couches.
    I don’t have one sip down before he enters the room, looking so much better than the last time I saw him. His hair is washed and shorter, his face smooth and shaven. The corduroy pants and plaid button-down have been replaced by a pair of khakis and dark green sweater. He now resembles the man I knew six years ago, before his world got turned upside down because of my father.
    “Grant, it’s so good to see you,” he welcomes me, holding his hand out.
    “Mr. C, you look great.” I place my hand in his and he pulls me into a hug. “You’re an adult now, call me Vince. How many times do I have to tell you?”
    “You know I won’t,” I tell him.
    “How is everyone?” He changes the subject, knowing he will always be Mr. C to me.
    “Good, I think. Classes started up this week,” I say, trying to make small talk.
    “Don’t put pressure on yourself, Grant. You need to have fun too,” he says, starting his usual lecture with me. “Enjoy college, it’s not all about work and success.”
    “I know, but it’s my last semester and I need to finish strong in order to get one of the jobs I want.” We both take our seats on opposite couches, facing one another.
    “You need to find a happy medium between work and pleasure if you’re going to enjoy your life,” he advises.
    “Pleasure can come after success.” I cock a smile to him, knowing that we’ll always disagree on this subject.
    “Do you want to talk about today?” he asks, diverting the topic to the real reason I came here.
    I shrug.
    “There was nothing you could do, Grant. It was her time,” he tries to convince me, just like he does every year. But I know that if I would