I can’t even begin to think of a response to Cody. I’m depleted and I have a pile of lies to explain to him, none of which I want to … and a million apologies on top of that. I don’t know what to say to him and that’s become a staple in our relationship.

Again the doors open and all that hugs me in this moment is the chill of the autumn wind.

“Cady cat,” I say and I don’t know why the weakly spoken nickname comes out like that. I haven’t called her that in years.

Slowly, her grip loosens on my mother and she peers at me, the kohl liner around her eyes making them look even larger than they are. She readjusts her black wool coat before pulling me into a firm hug.

My grip on her is tighter than I consciously allow. I can’t let her go even if I wanted to.

“It’s going to be okay,” she tells me, but I’m not sure I believe it.

Marcus

Nineteen years ago

He looks just like the rest of them. There’s nothing at all distinctive about his features. Maybe the reddened cheeks would set him apart if it were any other day. But with the festival, all the adults with beers in oversized plastic cups have red cheeks.

He smiles too, just like them. His isn’t as white and polished, though. Years of smoking took its toll. Maybe his skin is slightly more yellow too, although it’s hard to tell from this far back.

Slipping my hands into my jean pockets, I keep my distance, slipping down the cracked sidewalk between rows of people cheering on the green floats. My shoulder brushes against the brick wall and occasionally there’s a bump from someone stepping back or trying to get around the crowd.

“Hey, watch it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, kid.”

“Where’s your mom?”

I ignore them all, keep my head down and smile. I’ve found if I just point ahead and keep walking, no one stops me. They don’t bother to get a response before turning their back to me and carrying on.

It’s warmer down here than it is at the barn. It took me three days to get here although it’s only hours if you take the highway. I learned that from my last hitchhike.

From the barn and my safe place, all the way to a different small town I grew up in, is only three hours away. Three long hours down the highway carved into the mountains.

The next float strolls by and this time the man stops. He shouts something, cupping his hands around his mouth to call out across the street. His smile broadens and the cheers get louder as the music does. Everything is so damn loud, but it’s silent just the same.

It doesn’t matter; it doesn’t mean anything.

For Harold it’s just another reason to drink and then get in his car.

I wish I could steal his car from him when I’m done. That’s a regret I have. But my teacher, the monster he is, would never do such a thing. He doesn’t take trophies. That’s a rule.