If Not for You (Completed)

Chapter 11: Kazzi

11 Kazzi

Kale dashed forward before I could stop him, pausing only when the woman drew up short at the end of the driveway. Her long, thick black hair was tied in a lazy ponytail behind her head, falling in a mess of unruly curls. The dress she wore was some shade of green that came off as turdy against her olive skin. Her piercing blue eyes, Kale's eyes, stared us down with suspicion.

"Who the hell are you? And what the hell are you doin' on my property?"

I moved to stand at Kale's side as he gaped. He didn't speak, didn't move. Frowning at him, I inched forward. "Are you Essie Cruz?"

Reaching into the old purse on her shoulder, she pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and puffed it in a fraction of a second before answering. "Who the hell wants to know? You the law?"

I looked at Kale again, giving him the option to speak, but he may as well have been frozen. Rolling my eyes, I faced Ms. Cruz. "We're—"

"Hold on." She interrupted, and pointed two fingers at Kale, the cigarette smoking between them. "He looks familiar." She took another deep drag, then dropped the butt in the dirt and ground it with a flip flop before approaching him.

He was still wide-eyed and gaping as he stuttered to speak. "I... I'm..."

"Kale?" The single name on her tongue redefined the tone of shock. Her eyes went wide as she took a step back, lips parted in awe. "Holy shit."

Kale huffed a half chuckle. "Yeah, that's what I said." Finally, his voice returned.

She scoffed. "Thought you died."

She rounded him to start toward the house, leaving us staring in horror. She hadn't seen her son in over a decade, would have known nothing about his farce suicide, and that was somehow all she had to say to him? I was appalled.

"Wha... what?" Kale stammered, and my heart broke for him and everything he'd dreamed on the way up there.

I heard the door open and close behind us as I moved to stand in front of him and gently cupped his cheek. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, though I knew the words would never penetrate what he was likely feeling. "Do you want to leave?"

He looked like he was about to agree when the door opened again. I looked up to see Ms. Cruz with her head poked out, looking impatient. Kale merely stiffened.

"You comin' inside or what?" She called out.

I was hesitant, but ultimately, it wasn't up to me. Glancing at Kale, I saw his indecision as well, and when he met my eyes, he looked tormented.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," I whispered, and though he licked his lips in uncertainty, he shook his head.

"Yes, I do. I have to settle this." And with that, he turned and started up the concrete steps where she was standing beside the door. I followed a second later, and the door was slammed behind us, hard enough to rattle the entire house.

I couldn't help frowning as we stood in the doorway to look around. The place was painfully small and sparsely furnished. A stained, floral print couch sat against the wall across from us, a white wicker chair with a thin cushion angled toward the TV adjacent to it. SpongeBob was playing on the screen.

It was the episode Kale had warned me with as kids, but I didn't mention that. To our left, two small armchairs sat angled toward the couch, their cushions stained and ruined with cigarette burns. To the right, before the window we'd seen in the front, was a two-seater dining table. The black cat was sprawled across it, tail swishing. There were no decorations anywhere, nothing personal save for a few child's drawings tacked on the wall. It was as though she had just what was required to function, and nothing else.