How Do I Make You Feel

Sorry About Her

Weeks went on, and the Hendrix family went about their lives. As Tuesdays and Saturdays of dinners went by, Ms. Shepard never stopped by. She never called, she never came out of her house. One evening musky and windy evening in July, the Hendrix family sat at their dinner table, passing around a bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Mom, why hasn't Ms. Shepard been over for dinner lately?" Maggie asked, scooping some mashed potatoes on to her plate.

Mrs. Hendrix wiped her hands on her napkin and picked up her fork, looking up at Maggie. "Well, hun, she's been focusing on her son. It's not easy moving."

"But wouldn't she want to come over with her son to make it easier for themselves?" Maggie asked again, starting to eat.

Emmitt stared intently at the two of them, listening in.

"You know, Iz. Maggie's right," Mr. Hendrix piped in. "Why don't you try calling her again?"

Mrs. Hendrix looked up at her husband in disbelief. "Excuse me, John. Do you not think that I've tried that? She's been a close friend of mine for  while-"

"Of the family, Isabelle."

"Yes, of the family. But we've been close friends on our own terms. I don't particularly think the kids need to hear everything about the situation. We also just need to keep to ourselves. We need to give Ms. Shepard and her son time."

"Maybe she's struggling. She could be getting back into drinking, for all we know."

"That's quite enough, John. Thank you," Mrs. Hendrix said sarcastically, waving her hands up and pushing her chair away. She angrily walked to the stairs.

"Isabelle," shouted John, sighing as he leaned back in his chair.

"Way to push it," Emmitt whispered over to Maggie.

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Ms. Shepard sat on her couch, eating her plate of microwavable peas and chicken. Gavin sat on the other side, scooping his own plate of peas into his mouth. He kept his gaze on the movie that was playing.

"So, Gav. I was thinking it would be best if you go to some therapy sessions. CPS actually recommended it to me a while back. It could help you let some things out. And it would also help them understand what happened."

Gavin nodded. He had started talking about a week ago, while they had been eating dinner together. He hadn't wanted to trust his mother, but he decided that it was worth it. He knew that his mother wasn't anything like his father. At least, he hoped.

"Yeah, sure. I guess."

"You don't have to if you aren't ready, Gavin. Seriously. But I do think it would be good for you."

"No, yeah. I know. I will."

Ms. Shepard turned back towards the TV. She hadn't thought that it would be that easy. She still tried her best to be careful about how she spoke. She didn't want to scare Gavin in any way. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yeah."

She smiled in relief. "Alright. That's great, Gav. I'll call and book an appointment."

"Mom?" Gavin asked.

"Yes, hun?" Ms. Shepard said.

"I think I'm just gonna sit on the porch. I think I need some fresh air."

"Oh," Ms. Shepard started, looking over at her son. "Do you want me to come out with you?"

"No," he said hesitantly. "I'll be okay."

"Okay. But come back inside whenever you need to."

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Emmitt peddled his bike towards his street, coming back from his trip out to the wooded grove out near the main hiking trails and parks. His leather journal was tucked into the front wire basket. As he peddled, he focused on the street in front of him. As he slowed down, he looked over to Ms. Shepard's house. Sitting on the porch steps was the same boy that had gotten out of her car just weeks ago. His dark locks were hanging almost down to his eyes, and he stared out at Emmitt.

Emmitt wanted to say something, but he stopped his bike and got off of it. He turned his head away from Ms. Shepard's house so he wouldn't be caught staring. He started walking his bike up to his own driveway. Don't look at him, he said to himself.

He looked back over. 

The boy, Gavin, looked away and stared over at something else.

Gavin wanted to know more about the boy, with his polo shirt and his jeans, and his glasses that rested on his pale nose. But he kept quiet, still afraid.

Maggie, her pigtails bouncing up and down, ran out from the place she was sitting at the front window, slamming the door behind her. She smiled as she ran down the porch stairs.

"Mags, where are you going?" asked Emmitt, seeing his sister about to cross the street.

"I'm going over to say hi to Gavin."

"Gavin? Who's Gavin?"

"Ms. Shepard's son? Remember?" Maggie laughed. "See ya."

"Wait," Emmitt called to her, but she was already halfway across the street. He stayed still, watching the situation unfold from where he was.

Maggie, in her striped t shirt and jean shorts, ran up to Gavin at his porch. "Hello. You must be Ms. Shepard's son who just moved in with her. The name's Maggie, but everyone calls me Mags. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She held out her small hand to shake Gavin's.

Gavin looked confused, staying still for a minute. "Hi."

He reached out his hand slowly, shaking it in the little girl's.

"Do people call you Gavin? Or something else?" Maggie asked him.

"Gavin's fine."

"You don't talk much," Maggie said, shrugging her shoulders. "Oh well."

Emmitt, from where he stood in his driveway, started walking over without his bike.

"Why are you sitting out here alone?" Maggie asked.

Before Gavin could try to give an answer, Emmitt reached the porch. He looked at Gavin, and stuttered, "I'm, uh... I'm sorry. My sister can be annoying sometimes. We're leaving now."

Gavin looked up at Emmitt. "That's alright. I don't mind," he answered quietly.

Emmitt stayed there for a minute, until he grabbed Maggie's hand. "Let's go."

"Are you single, by any chance?" Maggie called out, being pulled along by Emmit.

"Be quiet, already," Emmit whisper-yelled. "You're ten, remember that."

Gavin kept quiet, watching as the boy his age pulled his little sister along across the street.