Walking the Right Path

Chapter 12

Mr Richardson hummed softly, drumming his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel as we drove through town. The environment around us buzzed with activity seeing as it's the first day of the week and a few minutes past seven o'clock in the morning. Business men wore their suits or trousers with a plain shirt running across the road with a coffee in one hand and either a briefcase or a handful of files in the other. One or two people walked their dogs through a steady path whistling to themselves while the vast majority looked half asleep but knew they couldn't stay home for the extra hours or risk losing their jobs. I chuckled at that thought.

I sat with my hands behind my head in the backseat of the car appreciating the cool air. It feels nice to just sit back and breathe, something I haven't had the chance to do yet with everything swirling around me. It was also a nice distraction from the nightmares which is still a recurring thing, however, I've decided to let it be my night problem instead of letting it affect the rest of my day. That proves to be difficult as even the sound of Mr Richardson's humming is enough to lull me to sleep. After waking up around two am, the fear that took over my body kept me awake for the rest of the morning. I just couldn't fall asleep without the image of a horrible creature filling my mind with promises of a pit.

The car took a rough turn to the right making my head hit the window. A taxi driver was yelling at Mr Richardson who sat silently, attempting to apologize for the wrong driving which was clearly the Taxi driver's fault. With one last insult he drove past us.

"How do you even deal with such people this early morning?" I asked, rubbing the side of my head in pain. It hit the window quite harshly but the plus side is it took the sleep out of me.

"I've had a lot of time to practice patience," he said with a distant look in his eyes. "I remember my wife would always hold my arm, stopping me from marching out of the car to give them a piece of my mind. She would always say keeping silent is better than speaking out of terms. Now I didn't listen to her at first which resulted in her giving me the silent treatment and spending the night on the couch," he laughed.

"Sounds like a strong willed woman," I said.

Mr Richardson sighed, adjusting the mirror. "She truly was." He looked at the passenger seat in longing, as if magically his wife would just appear and hold his arm again. The sight made my chest tighten as I remembered the same look on my face. It was the same one I had whenever I came home from school waiting for my father to run and give me a hug, it was the same one I had when I scanned the bleachers looking for my parents at every football game after that. The longing for their presence makes everything worse.

"Tell me about your son," I found myself saying.

Instantly a smile took over Mr Richardson's face. "His name is Angel and sometimes I wonder why my wife decided on that name because he's anything but that. He's twenty one and goes to community college, as I told you he's away on a trip with a group of his friends doing a social experiment and visiting foundations for the less fortunate people. At least he's got a good heart, he reminds me so much of his mother when he tries," he looked at me, "And a little like you kiddo. My son's got a strong mindset when he decides on something."

I smiled, "what else?"

Mr Richardson's eyes lit up, "Well he's really good at sports especially football. He used to run around with that thing in the house knocking over all the tables and his toys, once he kicked the ball at the TV and broke the screen," he laughed loudly, "I couldn't find him for six hours. He hid inside a box, crying because he was afraid of what we would do to him. I mean we got mad at him but I'm sure after the long speech his mom gave him and a month without his ball it taught him a lesson. We didn't have a house of our own so Angel didn't get to play in a big yard like we wanted. We had everything planned before..."