The End of The Beginning

four

four

Wednesday, September 1st

The sound of plastic bags rubbing against each other plays behind me. Tears fill my eyes as I stare out of the window watching the cars race past us. Mom is driving. Camden is in the seat next to me, staring at his fingers as he fiddles with them. I can't even imagine how he's taking this. It was all so sudden.

"Are you okay, Camden?" I ask as I wipe the tears out of my eyes. I don't make eye contact. Mom adjusts and checks the rearview mirror as her face wrinkles with worry. She's the problem, she doesn't get to feel bad. She doesn't get to comfort anybody.

"Yeah," he says abruptly. "Sorry, I'm fine."

I put my hand on his shoulder and rub it. I hope he knows everything will be okay, even though I can't assure it.

"Alright."

I check my phone. 3:18. 28%. I hope Dad packed my charger.

We arrive at my Grandpa's house after about 15 minutes. Since Grandma died a couple of years ago, it's just been Grandpa living here. It was Grandpa who lost his wife, but Mom took the death of her mother even harsher. She started doing bad things. She hasn't been the same, even Grandpa can see that. I'm sure he'll enjoy the company.

"Hi, kids!" Grandpa opens his arms wide as he smiles at his grandchildren. "Hi, Ade."

My Mom nods as Camden and I hug Grandpa. The smell of his musky cologne brings me back to my childhood. Everything was perfect. Mom and Dad didn't fight, Camden could barely talk, and I could do whatever I wanted and get away with a timeout.

Grandpa tells us where we'll be staying and Mom brings in our bags from the car. I get the basement, Camden gets the guest room, and Mom gets her old room.

"Thank you so much again for letting us stay here," says my mom with a sort of ashamed look on her face.

"Ade, you cannot leave your children like this. They need their father. Every child needs their father." warns my grandpa. His warm smile quickly turns into a stern glare.

"Can we please talk about this in private, Dad? "says my mother. My grandpa grudgingly nods as they walk into the living room. An awkward silence fills the room. Camden and I listen to my mother and my grandpa whisper-arguing in the living room.

"Well, do you want to show me your new room? "says Camden, forcing a half-smile. I giggle at the idea of him still being so positive when we just got kicked out of our house by our own father. I say sure.

...

Camden and I walk through the basement. It's well-furnished; it has a bed, a couch, a TV, and an air hockey table. The air is dull and cool.

"Jeez, you're lucky," says Camden. "My room isn't half as big as this."

"You still remember what the old room looks like?" I ask.

"Of course I do. We came over here, like, two years ago for Thanksgiving. When Nona and the cousins were over, they slept in that bedroom. Nona kept asking me to pass her her foot cream in the middle of the night."

"Oh, what a nightmare!" I say sarcastically. Camden laughs.

"If you were there, you would have cried."

"Doubt it."

"I'm going to go unpack my bags, should I bring yours down?"

"That would be amazing." Right as I finish my sentence my phone begins ringing and vibrating. "Malika (from school)" is Facetiming me. She must have added the "(from school)" when I told her to type in her number. Right, because I have hundreds of friends at school and I would mix up all of the Malikas I know. Camden runs upstairs as I hop onto my new bed and talk to her.