Benevolence

Chapter 18: Mounting Bridges

I overthink the conversation between my mother and Kenya all day. Why are they digging up the past? More specifically, why is my mother so concerned about the happenings of the second victim when we should be trying to move past it? I can't even stomach the thought of possibly meeting his son. It'd be like sitting in the witness stand at court in defense of myself. I can't handle that sort of pressure, less look him in his face like I have no association with the source of his grief. From what I heard, he's all alone in this, just like me, yet we stand on opposing sides. Is his mother as bad as mine made it seem? Does he have friends he can confide in? Not knowing is beginning to bother me. And now I'm coming to understand the saying: The less you know, the better.

The phone ringing plucks me from my troubled daze, drumming against the walls of my car, and I answer a little too eagerly once recognizing the face on the screen. "Bryan," I breathe into the phone. "Thank God." We had a full schedule today so I didn't get the chance to tell him about what I overheard.

"You've missed me that much?" A peal of soft laughter follows his words.

"You won't believe the day I've had," I say, ignoring his banter.

"Does it have anything to do with the way you just moaned in my ears 5 seconds ago?"

"Bryan, be serious."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ugh, I could strangle him right now. "Why didn't you tell me Kenya was coming over?" I ask.

"She what?" He sounds just as surprised as I was.

"She came to my house this morning and let's just say things ended pretty badly between her and my mom." I take a deep breath, making a turn to leave campus. "She kicked her out."

"You're joking," he says.

"I wish I was, trust me."

"My mother doesn't exactly come with a warning label, Laina--Fuck." I hear a horn blow, followed by a string of swearing. "Who the fuck approved your driving license, Stevie wonder?!"

"Fuck you," I hear a man say.

"Too bad your mother wanted that more, you non-driving piece of shit." His harsh words are followed by the gunning of an engine, assumably his.

"Bry," I say, cracking a smile. "Are you alright over there?"

"Yeah—yeah I'm fine. The idiot doesn't know how to stay in his lane."

"What did I tell you about road rage?"

"Pshh, my baby needs to sit by herself at all times," he says referring to his car.

"It's not a person, you do know that right?"

"Baby she didn't mean that," he coos to his car. "It's just the jealousy talking."

I laugh at the image of him stroking the steering wheel and dashboard lovingly as if the vehicle has a mind of its own.

"Where are you?" He asks.

"I just turned off of Falls road, heading home."

"Good to know," he mumbles.

"You?" The call ends just as I come to a stoplight, and I look down at the phone, astonished. "Oh, I'm doing the same. Thanks for asking." I answer in his voice. "So rude."

When the call ended, it happily reminded me of all the previous prying I was doing. Drew and I's old messages are the first thing to pop up, but as I go to clear my history, his Insta-feed, which he updates frequently, also appears. He's doing just fine without me it seems. I shake my head, returning my phone to the cup holder. Both of us are being stubborn, but he's taking things to another level. "Oh, look at me, with my recommendation to work at SunPower," I mock. I groan loudly leaning my head against the steering wheel. I sound like a jealous ex-girlfriend.