Just Bent

Chapter Six

A month goes by very slowly, when you don't go out, and your mom doesn't look at you or talk to you. When no one calls, and you're afraid to turn on the T.V. Days drag on when the only thoughts that keep you company are the ones that taunt you, running simultaneous circles in your head, until you're sick to death of being in your own mind.

My day in court was met with relief. I woke up before my alarm clock went off and sat with my feet planted on the chilly hardwood. Despite the chill, I'd gotten into the habit of keeping my windows open, the changing seasons causing the wind to smell different. The past few days had been dreary and rainy but had caused a full bloom of foliage, especially in the tree right outside my window. Now the sun was rising, heating up the early summer morning and my bare back, and I couldn't help but suck in a lungful of heady air.

I eyed the suite Molly had helped me pick out a week ago, before she'd left for her soccer tournament. She'd hovered at the edge of my existence, watching me since that first morning, as if she sensed the deafening misery that I fought off every day. While Mom had decided her method of coping was to just not, Molls filled in the silence. She brought me dinner, she would come into my room to study for her own exams while I studied for mine. I relished the quiet between us. Though I couldn't tell her that. It wasn't even a big macho brother thing, it was just... a broken thing.

I took my time getting ready, feeling grounded in the quietness of the house. I fixed my tie in the bathroom mirror, noting that I would need a hair cut soon. I carried my suit jacket and dress shoes downstairs, and saw that Mom was up too, seeing as coffee was brewing in the coffee maker. I found a bowl and made myself a bowl of cereal.

When the coffee maker dinged its completion I stared at it. In the dark place, at the back of my mind, where my vulnerability hid, I wanted Mom to look at me. I wanted her to see me, instead of the ghost that haunted her. Finally, I pushed my chair back from the table and made my way to the fridge. I took out cream, coffee mate and then brown sugar from the cupboard. I grabbed her favourite mug. I made her coffee just the way she liked and then I waited back at my bowl of cereal.

The click of her heels down the stairs alerted me to her presence, but I didn't look up from my breakfast. When she stopped by her mug I ducked my head and ate a spoonful. As minutes passed I didn't dare look at her. But then she moved, and then she was standing beside me. Her fingers were running through my hair, in a familiar way that made my shoulders sag, pushing the flopping strands away from my forehead and ears. The side of my head found the curve of her hip and then pressed into the softness of her stomach. I could have cried when she held me against her, bent down and kissed the crown of my head. I was ten years old again, with my arms wrapped around her, and her arms wrapped around me. She pulled her lips away and resumed stroking my hair.

"We'll leave in ten minutes okay?"

I nodded, and then she went back to drinking her coffee.

''

We sat in a large court room, at a rectangular, wooden table that was polished so that I could see my own reflection. That seemed to be a trend for all the wooden surfaces in the room.

The judge sat on a raised platform, behind a large ornate, wooden desk. My lawyer sat to my left, Mom behind me in the pews. Chief Olsen sat beside her, the rest of the officers, including the rookie cop, sat a few seats behind them, towards the back. What had me sweating was who sat in pew across from them.

I hadn't seen Mr. Hamilton since a few weeks before that night, and since I had been confined to isolation, partially by myself, I hadn't seen him since then either. But there he sat now, with a girl my age that I didn't recognize, sat beside him. From the moment I had caught his eye coming into the room I had felt ill at ease, that old familiar nausea that had been haunting me, coming back full force.