Whispers of Home (3 page)

He stood on the sidewalk in front of what used to be a place called the Hobbyist’s Dream but was now an Asian market. He noticed the place was empty when he had arrived but his back was turned now, his complete attention on the woman in the window. He thought the Asian place probably wouldn’t have lasted long back in the day. Who knows now? The diner was the only one in town, or was until they put in a McDonald’s by the highway. Jaron hadn’t realized that things in this town could change until the bus passed by the fast food restaurant. Somehow he expected everything to be the same, as if time would stand still just because he didn’t feel any different now that he was here.

Standing here, he felt that maybe he left to put the physical miles between himself and the only parent he had ever known. He had never fit in with her either.

He felt a tug on his hand and looked down at sweet blue eyes. This small boy was as dependent on the next few minutes and the woman in the window as he was. “I’m thirsty,” Bobby said, around the thumb in his mouth.

“Me too. Let’s go.” Jaron stepped off the curb and onto the street, gripping onto Bobby’s hand just a little tighter, pausing for a car, then continuing until he came within inches of his mother, the glass the only barrier now. She looked directly at him, showing more emotion in those few seconds than he had ever seen from her during his entire childhood. He looked away and walked through the door of the restaurant.

Gloria McAllister was never a big talker. It was how he grew up. Silence in the house was all too normal. It had been almost a culture shock when he met Tracy. Tracy had been five months along with Bobby when they had first met. Even when the baby was born and trying to sleep she still didn’t know how to be quiet. At first it was fun, she talked with some intelligence and knew things that kept the one-sided conversation interesting for Jaron to listen too. It wasn’t until she started getting high again that the conversation turned too confusing for Jaron to follow. Eventually they lost their commonality and Jaron lost what little trust he had built up in her.

Tears formed in Jaron’s eyes thinking about Tracy. He still saw her body on that bloody bed every time he closed his eyes. He forced the thought away so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of the entire diner, including his mother. He entered the diner and made his way over to his mother. He allowed Bobby to sit down in the bench seat across from Gloria before he slid in after him.

Jaron wasn’t a big talker either, so it came as no surprise when Bobby was the only one to make any noise. His mom watched him and then the boy trying to hide himself behind Jaron’s arm as they slipped into the booth opposite her. Every few seconds Bobby whispered, “Thirsty.”

The boy had gotten obsessively clingy since Tracy’s death. Jaron wasn’t sure what to do to make Bobby feel more secure. So many changes in such short a time would be hard for anyone, not to mention a small boy. Jaron just stayed with Bobby, never leaving the kid’s sight, because he really couldn’t think of how else to help the boy gain some reassurance in a world that had crashed down around them both.

His mom gave Bobby a smile and waved the waitress over.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Soda,” the boy said with an angelic smile.

“Nice try. How about lemonade?” Jaron said.

“How about a Sprite?”

“How about water?”

Bobby sighed. “Okay. Lemonade.”

“Make that two please,” Jaron told the waitress. He placed an order for two hamburgers and fries also.

After that, the silence took over again, only this time it was uncomfortable. Jaron looked anywhere but at his mother, his hands fidgeting with the straw paper after the waitress dropped it off. He just couldn’t bring himself to look into his mom’s face, see the hurt and disappointment he knew was there. It brought home how many mistakes he’s made. She made those mistakes real for him. He wasn’t living in a tunnel anymore, blaming his life on other people, like he had when he had left this town behind.

“I thought you were dead. Did you know that?” she asked. Jaron noticed her hands shaking around the coffee cup she held.

He felt Bobby’s little body press into him.

“Brian told me.” He had nothing else to say. Explaining why he had left wouldn’t help her get over the hurt he saw on her face. The food was placed in front of him and Bobby, but he felt sick to his stomach, so he picked up a fry and dipped it into the ketchup.

Bobby loosened up enough to start eating. They hadn’t eaten since this morning, and even though they sat on a bus all day, traveling seemed to take its toll on both of them. For some reason the exhaustion pressed home that Bobby should be in school, starting his first year, not on a bus riding halfway across the country.

“Brian said you needed help.”

“We’re in trouble. We had to get out of the city for a while.” Jaron gave the boy beside him a smile.

His mom nodded her understanding. “Your room is the way you left it. You can always come home, Jaron. Always.”

His tears choked his next words so they never came.

Gloria was right. His room was exactly the way he had left it. His
Metallica
poster still hung on the back of the door. The lead singer’s long blond hair and the white lettering on his black shirt the only relief against the black walls until you looked at the bed in the corner. The red comforter was still a mess on the bed and seven years-worth of dust covered everything.

He had forgotten his juvenile need to be mad at the world. Although, the people in this town had given him enough reason to be an angry teenager, he could see he didn’t really need a reason based on the room’s decor. The white letters above his bed read
Scream.
He had forgotten this too, but it came back in stark relief. All at once, he realized the hurt he felt had followed him around for years after he left.

When had the anger left him? It seemed to be replaced by something else now. Resignation? Determination?

Bobby hung onto him like he was drowning and Jaron was his life line, even though the opposite held more truth. Jaron looked down at the small angelic face. Maybe Jaron and the boy needed to hang on to each other. Right at this moment no other emotion seemed possible but the need to be constantly with his son.

He didn’t have time for childish emotions anymore. He had a kid to think about. Bobby was his in every possible way and Jaron was determined to be the best parent he possibly could.

“The spare bedroom can be his, if he wants.” His mom came into the room. She held out fresh sheets to him. He took them from her.

“Thanks. He probably won’t sleep in it though,” Jaron said, smiling at her. He set the sheets down on the cleanest surface he could see, the floor, wondering why his mom never even dusted in here.

“He’ll have toys and such,” she said.

He nodded his head, turned to the bed and began to strip it of the soiled blankets and sheets. This proved to be difficult with a five year old strapped to him like a second skin.

“Okay buddy, want to help me here?”

“I guess.” Bobby pulled the thumb out of his mouth and pulled the sheet all without letting go of Jaron.

“Bobby, would you like to help me make cookies?” his mom asked, smiling, and holding out her hand.

He shook his head and burrowed closer to Jaron.

“How about I go with you and watch you help?” Jaron asked.

Bobby nodded and they all left the bedroom.

Jaron didn’t know if signing Bobby up for school was a good idea so he decided to wait until he could contact Martinez. That word
, murder,
seemed to get bigger in Jaron’s mind the more he thought about Tracy. With each passing day the reality of what happened to her became this monster he was constantly running away from. In his mind, the detective helped fight it off too. He trusted Detective Martinez, for some reason unknown to even him. It was like both of them wore a suit of armor, fighting off the same things and that gave them a commonality Jaron just didn’t have with anyone else. The picture in his mind would have made him smile if not for the gravity of the situation. Jaron just went with his gut on most issues and this was no exception. As of yet, he still could not bring up the nerve to call him, although they texted every single day. It was as if the sound of Martinez’s accented voice would drive home the fact that Bobby was motherless. And Jaron didn’t want to think too hard about what that might mean for his child’s mental stability. Jaron honestly did not want to know what had happened, he just wanted Bobby safe and right now, his son was safe.

Jaron knew he still hadn’t dealt with the grief he felt, at least not entirely. At odd times the grief would take him over, making him lose his breath, like falling from a tree. He could just imagine how much worse Bobby probably felt seeing his own mother, hearing the gun shot as it entered her body. The worst part was Jaron had no idea how to help his son live with what he experienced.

The most concerning thing about Tracy’s murder was Bobby’s comprehension and what to say to him about it now that their entire lives had drastically changed so much from what they had in that one room apartment in the city. Jaron thanked God every day that the person who killed Tracy never saw Bobby in the bathtub, which was where Bobby had gone when the man entered the apartment.

Jaron closed his eyes.

Would all the changes be too much for such a little boy?

Jaron opened his eyes again when Bobby tugged on the seam of his jeans. He smiled down at his son. Bobby had yet to leave him for even a second. He even went into the bathroom with Jaron, which was something they were trying to negotiate. So far Bobby refused to even be outside the door. He at least let go of Jaron’s leg and stood on the inside of the bathroom door. They were at a stalemate in the negotiating process at the moment.

“Is Grandma mad at me?” Bobby had started calling Gloria Grandma only the day after staying here. The two had become fast friends, even though Bobby refused to be out of Jaron’s site.

“Why would she be mad at you?”

“I don’t know.” The boy’s blue eyes would not look at Jaron.

“Bobby. What did you do?”

Bobby pointed to the cookie jar and his lip started to poke out. “Grandma doesn’t care if you eat the cookies.”

“But it was the last one.”

“That’s okay. They have more at the store.”

Bobby nodded his head. “Let’s go get some, Daddy.”

His mom had always worked nights at the factory in town when Jaron was a boy. Now she worked days and was home every evening. It was a nice change, even if their relationship still wasn’t all that solid, even after almost a month living under the same roof. Jaron had done what he could to be helpful, after all he was under her roof. He didn’t want to be a mooch or make her think he was ungrateful for taking them in. He did the housework and the cooking, anything he could to help out.

Finding a job in a town the size of Pickleville was proving to be very difficult. Jaron had his own money but it was dwindling down little by little. So when he entered the only grocery store in town, besides the new Asia market thing, he always looked on the message board posted just inside the store. This board was as much of a classified for Pickleville as the local newspaper. As of yet Jaron had not seen a job posting—not even once. Today was no exception apparently.

Jaron sighed deeply and grabbed a cart, ignoring the smug look on the cashier’s face when he walked in the door. Based on that look, Jaron could assess that he was the topic of gossip, or had been in the near past. Also, no one bothered to approach him, not even to be polite. He picked Bobby up and swung him around in a circle once before plopping him in the cart seat, making Bobby giggle.

The grocery store wasn’t like the diner, where gossip was as plentiful as the coffee, but the grocery did come in a close second. It was spoken in whispered tones here, instead of shouted out like at the diner. It walked around the edges of the place like a secret ghost. Jaron wasn’t sure which he preferred, the illusion of the grocery or the honesty of the diner. He just knew he did not need to know about Leanne’s baby having a baby, or that Shawn what’s-his-name got busted for dealing pot,
or
that Travis Heath was a player and had gotten some high school girl pregnant, even though he was seven years out of high school and the girl was only a high school junior. And these were just the conversations Jaron over-heard in the cookie aisle.

The little bit of information about Travis Heath had Jaron secretly straining to hear more, not that he would ever admit that out loud. He was a big time player and had fucked a lot of the girls in high school. Jaron wouldn’t be surprised if Travis Heath’s dick fell off—he had fucked so many girls.

Travis was rumored to have gotten drunk every weekend and had even come to school hung-over on more than one occasion. The
hung over at school
part was gossip too, of course. However, wearing sunglasses in class sort of gave away the truth. Travis was a bad boy, but not your typical bad boy. He had done all the things your parents told you not to do, but he was funny and endearing so everything he had done came off as goofy and playful. Plus he had been the best looking guy in the school, which was a big part of his appeal.

Listening to the gossip of a small town always made Jaron feel like he was a total hypocrite, especially when he was the subject of said gossip for so many years himself. At least, it did when he actually wanted to hear it but told himself that he didn’t. Did it make him a bad person when he lied to himself?

In the city the gossip never really touched him at all. People made a connection so deep they could be considered family, even though they didn’t share any blood connections, or they had absolutely no connection at all. Jaron certainly was no exception to this rule. He had Tracy, who was like a sister to him, and he supposed he had made a friend or two at the city diner where he worked. He hadn’t really made the connections that really stuck to a person though. The bottom line in the city was that no one cared what some nameless, faceless person they didn’t know did every day. So unless you were some celebrity on the cover of a tabloid you were safe from the gossip mills.