Chapter 6 (continued)

Outside the air was fresh and cool. Sedgewick followed Allison to her car, not exactly knowing how else to begin his walk home. They walked single file between the rows of cars, Allison in front, her arms stiffly held at her sides, her feet moving purposefully one in front of the other. Sedgewick followed, his feet shuffling on the damp pavement, his hands stuffed in his pockets, clenched in fists against the cold.

She unlocked the door and then turned to him. Sedgewick was looking at the ground.

"Thanks." She opened the door and watched Sedgewick give a half wave and turn to go.

"Wait." Sedgewick stopped and turned back. He stood at the front of her car, in line with her bumper. She glanced up to the night sky, and looked back to him with tears in her eyes. Again.

"I just can't do it." She half laughed and half sobbed. He smiled, knowingly, sympathetically, and took a few tentative steps back to her. They stood with the open car door between them, tears flowing freely down Allison's face.

"I'm not even going home," she blubbered, "I'm just going back to my dorm, but there's something about the familiar, it's just so, it's too…"

"Painful." Sedgewick finished. "I know." With the door between them Sedgewick reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes, though they just kept coming.

"I-I thought the coffee might help, a bit," he said with a smile and a wounded look.

"It did," she repeated, smacking him on the shoulder. He smiled and looked down. "Does it get any easier? Ever?"

"No."

They stood in silence in the half-full parking lot of Perkins, well after midnight.

"Is there anything that makes the hurt, this burning empty hole in my heart go away?"

"Some things can help. Coffee, breakfast. Throwing rocks."

"The rocks…?"

"My grandfather. When my dad died, h-he took me to the water and we threw stones. I was small, but it felt like it helped."

"It did."

"When my brother died we, we did it again. It wasn't the same, but trying it seemed to help." Sedgewick exhaled slowly, remembering things he hadn't remembered in a long time, things no one else knew besides his Gram.

"When my grandfather died I went out alone. I didn't think I could throw enough rocks, and Gram found me. We—we threw one last rock together and held each other and c-cried." Sedgewick could feel his eyes burning, the tears welling up. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to continue.

"Sometimes something violent and physical like throwing a rock can help, can make you get the hurt out of your, out of your bones. Sometimes coffee or breakfast or something visceral you can taste will help d-dull the pain for a little while. But none of them will make it go away.

"Nothing will bring your m-mom back."

"I know that." Allison had looked into Sedgewick's eyes with wonder and pain, trying to imagine him as a little child violently throwing rocks to the wind every time pain struck. His last statement struck her deeply, and she felt anger growing with her misery.

"Sometimes I think, I think I can bring my mom back." With that admission Allison softened. Sedgewick couldn't stop it now. He tried to shake his head back and forth, look the ground and swallow hard, but it was no use. Salty tears dripped down his face.

"B-but she's gone. She may be out there somewhere, but she's gone to me. Even if I could find her again, it wouldn't—it wouldn't change anything. At some point you have to face up to it. You can temper it with rocks and coffee, or w-whatever helps, but at some point you have to walk through it."

"But not alone."

"No, not alone," Sedgewick laughed at the thought, through his tears. "You—you take somebody's hand and you walk through it."

"Don't leave me alone." There was anger in her voice. Sedgewick hadn't seen this side of her before, but he knew the emotion. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back a step or two, then he closed the car door enough to move around it so there was nothing between them. It was an awkward movement, giving Allison pause to drop her gaze and wipe her eyes.

He took her hand she looked up, their eyes meeting for a moment. Sedgewick mouthed the words 'I won't' and squeezed her hand.

"I just can't go home tonight. Not to my dorm, and definitely not home. I'm not ready to face it tonight."

"That's OK."

Enough words had spilled out, and they both felt empty and cold. But they still held each other's hand and the pain hadn't totally consumed them. Minutes passed in the parking lot. Sedgewick wondered if he should just wrap the other arm around her and give her that warm embrace and she wondered the same thing, but neither of them did it. They just stood there, lost in each other's eyes, their hands tingling.

After a few more minutes of quiet Sedgewick said they should go. She looked into his with a question and he answered back with a nod. She asked if he could drive and he took the keys, following her around to the passenger's side to unlock and open the door.

They drove silently back to his place, the streets quiet and empty, the red lights slow and quiet, nothing but the noise of the engine and the whir of the fan. He parked on the street and led her inside. They hadn't spoken since the parking lot, and weren't about to now. Sedgewick led her upstairs, pointing down the hall to the bathroom and then leading her into his room. He clicked the bedside lamp on and headed for the door. He spoke quietly and softly: "There should be enough blankets on the—on the bed. There's extra clothes in the closet if you want a shirt or something to s-sleep in—or for, for the morning. The bathroom's down the hall, and Gram—Gram's in the next room. I'll be downstairs on the couch."

She stood stone-faced in the middle of the room half turned towards Sedgewick. She nodded as he finished, slowly, realizing how tired she was.

"Sedgewick," she said as he pulled the door closed. He stopped and poked his head back into his room. "Thanks."

Sedgewick smiled, shook his head and closed the door. She stood still in the middle of the strange room, listening to his footsteps in the hall, then heading down the stairs and into the living room. She stripped off her coat and kicked her shoes off. As tired as she was, the draw of Sedgewick's room tugged at her, and she slowly wandered around, taking it all in.

A single bed was pushed into the corner, under the eave. The pillow was in the far corner, and she wondered if Sedgewick ever hit his head on the slope. A desk sat next to the bed, with the warm lamp lighting the room, a small stack of books and an alarm clock. Opposite the bed was a dresser and a wall of bookshelves, and a window along the wall with the bed and another one above the desk.

The room had been painted a dull gray, a color that looked orangeish-brown in the soft light. A red comforter covered the bed, half thrown back from this morning, with a few extra blankets folded at the foot of the bed. A soft rug covered most of the hard wood floor, coming out from under the bed and barely touching all four walls.

She was drawn to the picture frames on the shelf, and she picked them up, one by one, studying the faces. One in the middle was showed a little boy at the beach, smiling with two older people, presumably Sedgewick and his grandparents. She smiled at the simple joy of the little boy on the beach, his sand shovel held aloft as if in victory.

Another frame showed a solitary man, standing with his arms crossed in what looked like an art gallery. His mop of curly hair reminded her of Sedgewick's hair, and she thought this might be his father. Another picture, higher up on the shelf, showed what looked like a full family, gathered around a birthday cake. A pretty young woman smiled a the camera, holding up one finger. A younger version of the man at the art gallery stood opposite her, looking down at a baby in a high chair. A toddler, maybe two or three sat at the table, with a huge smile for the camera. Allison couldn't remember if Sedgewick's brother had been younger or older, and she couldn't tell which child might have been him. An older woman, majestic and joyful stood in the back, and she guessed this was Sedgewick's Gram. Allison realized she would probably meet her in the morning—she couldn't leave with out doing it. The thought made her smile. She wanted to know the strength of such a woman. But the thought also scared her. Any other protective mother, for that's really what she was, would be at least a little wary after realizing her boy had given up his room for a girl. Allison knew she shouldn't be here, but it also felt right. It felt like the right thing to do for the time being. Any other time and any other place, and even any other person and it wouldn't have been right. But tonight, after today, and with this stockboy from Cub Foods, seemed more right than anything Allison had ever done before.

She picked up a final frame. It was a beautiful portrait of Sedgewick's grandmother, her face strong and aged, but also full of hurt and weakness. It was taken from the side, in sharp relief—the background faded and the creases of her face captured in perfect details. Her eyes were lost in the distance, taking in something miles and miles away. Allison ran her fingers along the glass, tracing a loose wisp of the grandmother's hair. She wondered who took the picture. She wondered if it could possibly be Sedgewick.

She set the frame down and turned to the bed. It was nearly two in the morning now, and she'd probably have to skip her morning class. She was tempted to set the alarm early and try to slip out quietly, but she suspected Sedgewick would be up early, and though the same for his grandmother. She couldn't bring herself to get up early enough to ensure she beat them both, and the very thought took too much energy. She rather liked the idea of waking up later, of letting the sun rise and apologizing and thanking Sedgewick and his grandmother together in the morning over breakfast. She liked breakfast, and she had a feeling Sedgewick did, too. It was actually her favorite meal, the thing that got her started in the morning more than anything else.

She pulled her socks off and let her pants fall to the floor. She stripped to her undershirt and was about to climb into bed when she stopped. She smiled, sheepishly, and made for the closet. She found one of Sedgewick's button-down dress shirts, like the kind he wore that day at Cub under his vest. She pulled off her undershirt and unhooked her bra, then slipped into Sedgewick's shirt. She pulled the shirt around her, breathing in a faint smell of the boy she met that morning. She swam in the shirt, but that's exactly what she wanted. She buttoned the top several buttons, and stood there in the middle of the floor smiling, goose bumps spreading on her bare legs. She remembered her mom on rare Saturdays, coming down in nothing but her father's dress shirts.

She climbed into the warm bed, pulled the covers up over her head, and shut the light off.