I̶n̶f̶a̶t̶u̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n

Chapter 1--Chanse

The buzzer rings as the door unlocks and she's sitting behind the plastic wall. Her hair was tied by itself and it was greasy and mangled. With face bare of makeup, there were large bags under her eyes.

    "Remind me again why you wanted me here?" I whispered.

    Evan brushed me off to indicate we would discuss it later. He sat in front of his mom and grabbed the phone while I stood behind him.

    "It's been a while," she said curtly.

    "I've been busy. I've had to take care of Madelyn, and then there's school." His eyes were fixed on her, devoid of any emotion.

    "Yes, that's right," she said. "How is school going?"

    "It's going fine."

    "Good, good." She nodded. "You haven't been to see me in a while but it's been even longer since I've seen Madelyn. Is she okay?"

    "Oh, she's doing just fine, Mom," he said, resentment welling in his eyes. "It's not like she has to go to school every day, receiving glares from people all of the time."

    "I gave them what they were giving me every day. That church didn't respect people like me."

    "You mean alcoholics and druggies? Do you even know why you're here, mom? You're an arsonist. You burned down the church!"

    "They had it coming to them," she stated. Evan stood so quickly his chair was knocked backward and I had to jump out of the way.

    "They did nothing to you! You did this to yourself! You did this to ALL of us! Is this what you wanted?!" Evan was out of breath.

    After a few moments of silence, she hung up. Evan pounded on the wall, but her back was already turned, two guards escorting her out. I took a couple of steps towards Evan but he stalked out of the room. Deciding it was best not to say anything, I followed him out, a few paces behind. When I reached the car, Evan was already inside, head and hands on the steering wheel. We sat there in silence for what seemed like forever.

    "She wasn't always like that," he finally said, breaking the silence. "I remember when I was 8, Madelyn was 6, and she took us both out for ice cream. I remember she got strawberry because she spilled it on her shirt and licked it off because Madelyn didn't want her to waste it." He chuckled. I didn't know what to say.

    "What happened to her, Chanse? Were we not good enough for her? Did I not give her enough? Did I not do enough?" He looked at me. I thought he'd be crying, but he wasn't. I could see the pain in his eyes, though.

    "Do not say this is your fault, Evan. I know it's hard to imagine-- and you have all these wonderful memories of her-- but, sometimes, people choose the wrong path. Your mom chose the wrong one and there's nothing you could have done." He said nothing, turned the key in the ignition, and backed out of the parking lot.

    "Where are we going?" I asked after we had passed all possible routes back to my house.

    "I don't know."

    Evan turned on the radio about halfway through the ride. We drove around for hours and the sun had long set by the time we pulled off at an overlook. We both got out and sat on a bench along the edge. It was older looking, burgundy red with patches of rust sprinkled throughout the surface. The view was amazing. It overlooked the city and I had never seen it from this point of view before. You could see all the buildings and streets and all the rivers and cars driving on the road. I looked at Evan. His dusty blonde hair moved with the breeze and his jaw was still set with the same anger and pain I had seen the entire car ride here. His muscles were tense and his hands were clenched. Still, I could see there was confliction buried beneath his agitated stance.