I awoke thinking how dismal the day looked.
November in Ohio does that to a person. Undressed and drab, void of
crisp autumn color, yet untouched by the pristine white of new
fallen snow. It's an in-between existence I could relate to. My
life was like that. I was somebody I didn't recognize, not any
longer. The stable forces in my life had been altered. I was
missing a major one and I didn't know how to handle it. What was I
to do? I had no idea.
"Winter! You should come downstairs for
breakfast. It's getting late."
I heard the call coming from below. Without
a word, I stood up from my chair and gathered my bag and books.
Releasing air to calm my tense frame, I then made my way down the
hall and to the kitchen. School was on the agenda today. I hadn't
been there since he disappeared. And that was two weeks ago. And I
wasn't ready. I wouldn't be ready. Ever .
"Good morning! There's bacon, and I fixed
some muffins. They're hot, so be careful not to burn your
mouth."
I gave Mom an indifferent stare. Who was she
kidding? The I'm-just-fine act wasn't fooling me. She felt it just
as much as I did. Sad, lonely, empty. Losing a dad and husband in
one unexpected moment doesn't heal a family right away. I had a
strong feeling it might never heal. Not that kind of hurt.
"I'd say you have about twenty minutes
before Benny comes to pick you up. So eat. Please." Her tone and
face pleaded with me.
I scarfed down a muffin and bacon within
five minutes, followed by a glass of OJ, and then headed for the
front hall. "I'm just going to wait on the porch," I announced,
avoiding any further conversation.
I sat on the cement step and settled my chin
in the heel of my hand. My mind wandered to places my heart really
didn't want to visit. I pictured the front lawn with me at five and
dad holding my hand. He swore school wouldn't be so bad. I was
crying. I didn't believe him. School wasn't home. I liked home. I
liked my family. I didn't understand why there should be any reason
to leave. That had been a hard point to argue against, but he did
it. And by the time the bus came, I was smiling. Not like
today.
"I sure could use one of your talks, Dad," I
mumbled, just as Benny and the Tribe Mobile drove up. I dragged my
bag, books, and myself off the porch and across the lawn. I heard
Mom's cheery goodbye, and then Benny's cheery hello.
"Good to see you, Snow White," Benny greeted
while tossing car trash from the front seat to the backseat.
I slid into the emptied space and nodded.
"Yeah, well …"
"You don't have to say anything. I know this
has gotta be rough. Just take it uno minuto at a
time."
I finally smiled at my best guy friend.
"Okay, wise one. I'll just do that."
"Uh huh. I hear you. If it makes you feel
better, lots of kids have been asking about you. People do care,
Winter."
I turned my head to study his face. "Lots of
kids. By lots of kids I know you don't mean Tina Ford."
Benny stole a quick glance away from the
road to stare back at me. "Why would you even want anything from
her? I don't understand what's so important that you'd give
Queenzilla a second's thought. A nanosecond even."
I sighed and wanted to laugh at his monster
reference, but couldn't. "I don't. I … I don't even want to think
about her, but she's just there. I can't exactly make her
disappear, you know."
"Give me the word if she messes with you.
I'll take care of her," Benny said.
I rolled my eyes. "You don't need to do
that."
"Do what?"
"Protect me. Watch over me." It made me feel
weak. I needed to take care of myself. The problem was that I never
seemed to be able to do that. And now …
Benny swerved the car to the side of the
road and put on the breaks. His eyes locked on mine. "I'm your
friend. And friends watch out for each other. I got your back. And
it's gonna stay that way. Capisce ?"
I patted his hand. "Calm down, Benny. I get
it. Really I do. But you can't always be there, every second of
every day." I turned and looked out the window.