Forlot: The Mom Who Lives Next Door - Book Twelve

Chapter Ten

I froze and had my arm outstretched, my hand in a gripping position because I was about to grasp the doorknob. I tried moving any part of my body, but it was nearly impossible. It was as if I had been shocked by lightning.

On the other side of the door, the outside, the doorbell rang again, and I heard Kira again.

"Jackson, please answer the door."

The crub? Did she not hear the explosion from somewhere in the house?

"I got it. I got it," I forced myself to speak. "Hey, Kira. How can I answer the door when the door cannot talk?"

Somehow, I heard her sigh. Though, Amy and I were not far from the kitchen now.

"This is no time for jokes, Jackson," Dad said. "Greet whoever it is before they leave."

"Yeah, yeah. I will." I finally found the will to move my body and grabbed the knob, wrapping my thumb and fingers around it. "So...did either of you hear a peculiar sound? Like the sound of a bomb that explodes."

I could tell that my dad was getting impatient by the tone of his voice. "Jackson, do not make me come in there and slap your rear end."

"Okay, fine. Here I go." I turned my head to the kitchen and stuck out my tongue. They could not see me, and I could not see them. I turned my attention back to the door and whoever was on the other side and pulled open the door. I was a bit surprised at who had visited my house. It was as if the universe had read my mind. And no, it was not my biological mom.

"Hey, dude."

"Hi, Milo."

Milo had dark brown hair with streaks of black and was wearing a grey sweater, black pants, and grey sneakers. He also brought his black backpack and had one of the straps over one of his shoulders.

From some reason, he always brought his backpack. Not just to my house. Everywhere. From classes to hangouts, he would always have his bag on him. I did not know why he did or what was in it. Then again, I never asked and have no clue as to why. I guess that I would forget to pop those questions whenever he and I began a conversation.

"How is my dude doing?" Milo asked me. He calls me dude instead of my real name. He only says my actual name when he is serious about something.

I shrugged. "I am not sure. Though, I wish that I could be doing better. What are you and Anita doing here anyway?"

Anita is the name that he gave to his backpack.

"Well, Anita thought that it would be a good idea if she and I visited you and spent some time with you and the little dude."

Milo likes to refer to my sister as the little dude. He calls us dudes because he is trying to be cool, and apparently, referring to your best friend and a baby as a couple of dudes is considered cool.

Despite acting the cool way, he cannot get a single girl to go out with him. The only reason that he has a desire to be cool is so that a girl will fall in love with him. I kept at him, both asking and telling him that he should wait for the right girl. She should love him for who he is, not what he looks like or how he acts. But do you think that he listens? Nope.

However, that does not stop us from being friends. We have a ton in common after all. Except each other, we are lonely, and both of us lost our moms. The difference was how we lost them. You already know Mom's story, but you do not know the tragedy that occurred with Milo's mother.

Not long ago, around the same time when my parents divorced, Milo's mom had been in an accident. She was driving by herself when an incoming car who did not stop at a spotlight slammed into her car, causing a deadly accident that left her dead.

As you may have guessed, Milo was crushed. He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. As a matter of fact, he said to me just that.

"Oh, Jackson...I feel like that my own heart has been ripped out..."

I did my very best to keep him company and to encourage him to continue on with life. But man, it was tough. I was dealing with my parents' divorce and felt very weak at the time.

However, as the days went on, Milo and I grew stronger and soon recovered from our hardships. It was not easy, but it was possible.

"You...sad?" Amy said to Milo. Even she knew that he had been grieving. She did not like him and her big brother, me, when we were sad. And God bless her. She would give us gifts to make us feel better, whether it be flowers or something that she made herself.

"I told you, Amy. I am not sad like I was before," Milo explained to her. He gently took her from me and held her. "Once in a while, I will be sad, but it is only because I miss...I miss my mother."

She rested her head on his shoulder, and he looked back at me.

"May I come in, Jackson?"

I thought about his offer. "Hmm. I do not know. It is pretty late."

"Please?"

"Please?" Little Amy repeated.

I let out a chuckle. "Alright, alright." I motioned for him to come in.

Milo stepped inside and hurried up the stairs, and I followed him, knowing exactly which room he was heading to.

Before I could take a step into my baby sister's room, my best friend said something out loud.

"Dude, why is there a hole in the doll's chest?"