Sideways

Chapter 48 - Cole

Wes i

March 2004, 16-year-old

Snow was always something that Riley found settling. Something about the way it slowed everything down, the way it made the hectic world come to a halt, relaxed him. There was always an eerie sense of silence that went with it, and Riley couldn't help but find peace in the silence.

Talking was never something that Riley felt he needed to do. He enjoyed the silence, which allowed him to focus, process his thoughts, and keep other people's emotions at bay. Living with his family, there always seemed to be noise coming from somewhere in the house, and he never felt he needed to add to that. While the other members of his family always felt the need to fill the silence, Riley didn't; he relished it.

But that was his choice; he often chose to be alone, enjoying the solitude. Now, though, living by himself, he found he missed the random arguments Joseph would start or Jonathan's ramblings about his favorite cartoons. He even missed his mother's hovering. He missed everything about her, to be honest.

But that was all gone now. His mother was dead, and that asshole father of his wouldn't even let him attend his mother's funeral. Joseph and Jonathan were living with Mac, and now, a little over two years after the worst day of his young life, Riley was truly on his own.

Technically, with New York's laws, Riley couldn't actually be emancipated. Laurie had worked her legal magic, and because he was 16, his mother had left the boys a sizeable inheritance to be shared amongst them; thus, Riley was considered self-sufficient. With Laurie being his guardian and the executor of Catherine's estate, the judge approved her as his conservator, and Riley was declared an adult. It's all some legal mumbo jumbo he doesn't understand, nor does he want to.

With Laurie's help and guidance, he was able to get a place on his own. This is why Riley is sitting looking out the window as the snow falls, leaving a layer of unblemished white everywhere. He watches as the flurries slowly accumulate, rising higher and higher along the chain-linked fence that separates his house from his neighbors.

Mrs. Guzman, or Alma, as she had repeatedly told him to call her, was an amazing woman. Things between them started small. In January, during the first snowfall of the year, Riley shoveled the walkway between their houses, and then he shoveled her steps and sidewalk.

She would later knock on his door and hand him a container of chocolate chip cookies as a thank you. A few days later, he helped her carry her groceries inside, and she invited him over for dinner. After that, Riley would take her garbage to the curb, and she would often knock on his door and either invite him over for dinner or hand him a Tupperware full of food.

Alma was an older woman—not nearly elderly, but getting up there in years, maybe her mid-to-late forties or earlier fifties? Riley wasn't sure. He was only sixteen, and like any teen, everyone was old to him. But he knew enough not to ask a lady her age. Catherine had taught him to respect his elders, especially women.

Alma's husband passed away a few years before he moved in, and she was on her own in New York. She had a son who lived on the West Coast somewhere and a daughter, Carmen, who lived in the South somewhere with her three children.

Alma often talked about her grandchildren, especially the oldest, her grandson, Nico. He was obviously her favorite, but she always seemed sad after talking about him. Apparently, there were issues between her grandson and her new son-in-law, and Alma was trying to talk him into moving to Brooklyn with her to escape the drama.

Riley found himself spending a few nights a week with the woman. She was lonely, and so was he. Some nights, they would talk and chat, or she would play music for him and try to teach him how to cook and speak Spanish. On other nights, they would sit in silence, just enjoying each other's company.