Chapter 8

Darkness hung in the morning air like a mist, a blackness over the living room. Sedgewick blinked, trying to clear his eyes and adjust to the pre-dawn lack of light. He stretched on the couch, first bending his knees and extending his back, then arching his back and stretching out his legs. He didn't fit on the couch, and he felt it this morning.

He sat up, keeping the blanket wrapped around him against the morning cold, still trying to adjust to the darkness. He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes and shook his head. A dull ache spread from the base of his back, and he wondered if people were like something you crammed into a tight space, and then when you pulled it out it retained the shape and took several hours to drift back to its original shape. That's how his back felt, like it might take a while for the pain to fade away.

He glanced at his watch and realized it was as early as it was yesterday. His mind was just coming out of the fuzziness, but it wasn't too early. Sedgewick rarely found he woke up too early. If he took his time actually getting out of bed, it was always the right time.

He wandered into the entryway and looked out the front door. Allison's car was parked on the curb where they'd left it the night before. A white sheen of frost covered the grass and the shingles on roofs, and Sedgewick tried to remember if this was the first frost of the year.

He ran a hand through his early morning mess of hair, and sauntered upstairs. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, rinsing away the final remains of sleep. He buried his face in a towel, letting the water absorb into the softness and feeling refreshed and awake.

He slowly lowered the towel and looked into the mirror. Standing in the doorway, watching him, was Allison.

"Taking off early again?" A slight grin appeared on Sedgewick's face and he shook his head from side to side. She wore another of his dress shirts, transformed into pajamas.

"Not today." His eyes caught hers, full of sheepish apology, and her eyes shone brightly.

"Well that's good. I don't think I'd be able to take a runaway twice in a row. It's a little disconcerting."

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"I know." She stepped into the bathroom with Sedgewick and put her arms around him. She leaned her face against his chest and he slowly wrapped his arms around her, a little surprised and shocked. He then realized she wasn't wearing any pants.

The day before Sedgewick awoke much the same way, finding himself on the couch, his back kinked and a girl in his bedroom. He was up before anyone, and the whole situation was too much. He knew his Gram would understand why he'd brought Allison home. There was nothing wrong with it. But he still didn't want to face her. It was all oddly new and the day before he wouldn't have dreamed of any of it.

But at the same time it wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare. He hadn't told anyone about his family in a long, long time. He kept reliving portions of it in his mind, seeing the faces again and feeling the rocking, rolling spew of emotions come on that would drop him to the floor. He'd managed to hold off the worst of them, managed to stay strong and not be reduced to jell-o. He wondered at the power of past pain and loss, the way it snuck beneath the surface, ready to come alive again at the slightest provocation, and just as sharp and debilitating as it always had been.

He didn't want to avoid his family. He loved them. He always would. He kept pictures in his room, memories in his head, and a deep, deep love in his heart for his mother, his father, his brother, and his grandfather. Their loss was painful, but he never wanted to forget about them or shove away their memory because of pain.

But Allison. Her pain was so fresh and so sharp that it brought back those immediate feelings. The night before as they left Perkins he wanted to push her away, to tell her she had to get through it on her own, to leave her crying at her car and walk away. The desire welled up in him, but he couldn't do it. He knew she wasn't ready, knew that wasn't what she needed. She needed a place to crash that wasn't full of reminders. Sedgewick could understand that.

But today he needed a morning that wasn't full of reminders. Unfortunately, that meant her. He didn't want to run away, to leave her here alone with his grandmother, whom she'd never met. But he also knew he needed time alone.

He remembered back when his grandfather had died. It was in this very house, in the chair in their bedroom, the recliner where Sedgewick had been told so many stories and had fallen asleep so many times. He couldn't sleep that night and had fallen asleep in his grandfather's arms. He must not have been able to sleep either. He awoke to his Gram's face, full of love and warmth, but also streaked with tears. She picked Sedgewick up and carried him downstairs and they sat on the couch in the living room for what seemed like hours. Sedgewick was half awake, but his Gram was mourning her loss, trying to gather the strength she would need to face that awful, painful day.

Sedgewick remembered being confused and lost. He was only six or seven, and had a vague understanding of what was going on. The house was full of people and as much as he tried to cling to his Gram, he couldn't be with her all the time. At one point she broke down, her sobs filled the house and they cut to Sedgewick's soul.

A neighbor had taken him by the hand and led him outside. They sat on the back steps, the warm sun, high sun of mid-morning warming them. Sedgewick the little child had tried to understand why he couldn't be with his grandmother.

"Sometimes people need to be alone."

"But my Gram, I-I need her."

"And she needs you. But sometimes grief can only happen when we're alone, and we need to walk that path by ourselves."

"Will she come back?"

"She'll come back, I promise." Sedgewick looked into his face, this older neighbor he didn't know. Today it's an even older face, but so familiar. It was Charles. That was his first encounter with Sedgewick, a child who knew more grief and tragedy than anyone Charles had ever met.

Sedgewick remembered that day and that conversation, and today he knew that he needed to be alone. Allison probably needed him, but he knew Gram would be there in amazing ways like only she could, and if Allison truly did need him, than he had to do this for himself.

He rose from the couch and silently got dressed and gathered his things. He found clothes in the half finished laundry in the basement, and thankfully had never gotten around to putting all his books away the night before. He scrawled a quick note, a third note, for his grandmother, and quietly slipped out the front door.

He turned onto the street and glanced back to his house, to his bedroom window. Allison was asleep, warmly wrapped in his blanket, the one his grandmother had made for him. She wouldn't wake up for hours and Sedgewick hoped she'd understand.

He arrived at the bus stop to find people he didn't recognize. He was at least an hour earlier than normal, and he realized with a certain sadness that he wouldn't see Charles on the bus this morning.

He stood off to the side, a few paces from the bus shelter in front of the newspaper racks. Three people sat in the shelter and fourth stood off to the other side. The fourth was a business type, wearing a full suit and carrying a briefcase. A plump woman with a jug of water sat on the bench, a blue collar guy with a tool belt kept shifting from one leg to another, and a young woman sat closest to Sedgewick reading a book. There were no college girls at the stop today.

Sedgewick never expected so much when his eyes were continually drawn to college girls. He never thought anything would ever happen, and he certainly never expected this. It was the kind of story Alex would tell during break at work, only it wouldn't include so many heart-wrenching details. But something about meeting a girl one day and spending the night with her that night didn't seem far off from a typical Alex tale. Sedgewick wondered how many of those stories were total fabrications. Perhaps the girl had existed, perhaps Alex had talked to her, but Sedgewick seriously doubted that much more of Alex's story could be true.

The bus lumbered up to the stop and Sedgewick bordered last, after the blue collar man. He slipped his bus pass into the slot and pocketed it again, heading towards an empty seat in the middle of the bus. He flopped down and looked out the window. The sun was coming up now and he imagined his grandmother would be waking up and finding his note, realizing all that had happened the night before.

He hoped she'd understand, hoped she would be loving and caring to Allison. Somehow Sedgewick knew he could rely on his Gram to do the right thing.

The bus rolled on, cruising past Charles' stop because no one was there. Sedgewick bit his lip, wondering when he might get to talk to Charles again. In the midst of everything that happened yesterday that mural had been cathartic. Knowing Charles, that's probably what he intended. He had talked with Sedgewick about that mural for months, but never invited him to see it and certainly hadn't hinted at Sedgewick actually helping out.

There was still a bit of blue paint under his fingernails. Sedgewick remembered the feel of the paintbrush in his hands. It had been so awkward at first, so strange and alien, but as he went it became more and more natural. Manipulating the paint on wood had been something new and different, and trying to get the tones right, even though there wasn't a certain correct tone, had been a challenge Sedgewick enjoyed. Much more than he thought possible. Charles probably intended that, too.