CHAPTER 4

You close your eyes and say a prayer
That for a moment
You can be free from all their hate

~Nathaniel's Lyric Journal

"THANKS AGAIN, LEANNE. YOU'RE THE BEST," David thanked the waitress.

In her checkered dress and white apron wrapped around her hips, the brunette woman smiled at David.

"Anything for you. Consider it on me for coming by the other day and fixing my car," the waitressed smile flirtatiously at David before she walked towards the other occupied tables. The hollering of orders at the back to the live music of the jukebox brought the diner to life. The checkered floor to the red lining with various of items hanging from the wall captured a fifties vibe.

Taking a bite of the food, I chewed it thoughtfully.

"How are you liking the fried catfish?" David asked me.

Mid-chew, I looked down at the breadcrumb crusted item, and dropped my fork.

"You told me this was fish," I immediately groaned, my tongue becoming stiff with the food already in my mouth.

"Catfish is a fish technically," David's friend Anthony piped up in the seat next to him. "David is just being a dick though."  Their other friend, Trent, only smirked.

I pushed the plate away, drowning the taste with my Coke before I realized that I wasn't drinking Coke. "This is Sprite. I ordered a Coke."

"Coke just means soda here, kid. You have a lot to get use to around here," David shrugged, looking at his two friends with a knowing smile before sipping his own drink.

David had been insisting the past week to introduce me to his friends so I could assimilate once again rather than stay at home.

"So you lived in New York City before, right?" Trent asked me inquisitively. I noticed right away that despite's Trent quiet demeanor did not cloak this sharp brown eyes that were assessing me. It made me wonder how much like shit I appeared.

I nodded.

"Yep," I answered, feeling a sense of nostalgia about my hometown.

"That's so cool," Anthony responded with awe.

Anthony was soft spoken despite being a big guy. He was several inches taller than me and lean. He was wearing a jersey with A largely printed on the white jersey.

"It is," I agreed.

"Where in the city did you live?" he followed up.

"El Barrio," I responded without a single thought in a Spanish accent.

Anthony frowned. "El what?"

I shook my head, realizing they probably had no idea what I said. "It's just another name for East Harlem. It's the northeast part of Manhattan. There are a lot of Spanish and Italian people in my neighborhood."

It was why the first thing I noticed here was that it was the lack of diversity. My half Mexican heritage meant that I was a few shades darker than all the white kids around here, and it seems like the only people who better resembled my skin tone were gardeners and custodians in facilities- a fact that left me uneasy.

"Honestly that is so cool. I don't get why you would ever want to come here," Anthony said innocently. 

"Yeah. New York sounds great," Trent agreed. 

I froze at this question as all the faces turned to look at me. Every person asked me the same question. Most of the time I used Dad as a scapegoat, claiming that he wanted to return to his hometown, which was true. Every time I was asked that question, unwanted memories began to invade my mind.

"It is great," I agreed solemnly, not feeling any energy to be happy. Not wanting to talk to anyone else anymore, I got up suddenly, pulling out my wallets for my portion of the meal before they said anything that might make things worse. "I need to do some errands, but it was nice meeting you guys."

Anthony smiled. "No problem. I will see you around. Welcome to Alabama."

Welcome to Alabama.

As welcoming as his voice was, it sounded like a death sentence. I waved goodbye and walked out of the café, feeling my ears ringing as Anthony's words echoed in my ears.

Then I heard David calling for my name.

"Wait up," David called out. I slowed down while David's feet shuffled towards me. His hands were in his pocket. "Are you okay? You rushed out of there pretty fast."

I held myself back from answering the question honestly as he eyed me curiously. This was not the first time he had asked me if he was okay, and I wondered why he kept asking when we both knew I was anything but okay.

"I'm alright," I lied, thinking back to the lack of sleep I got last night because my mind was preoccupied with mom. "I might apply for the job at the diner down the block. I saw a sign saying they are looking for workers."

David's eyes widened with excitement, and a goofy grin grew on his face. 

"No way. I work there too!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Of course he did.

"Great. We could see each other more," I responded with as much enthusiasm I could muster when in fact, I was exhausted. I just wanted to keep my head down until my jumbled thoughts sorted themselves out. That was why I didn't pick jobs where I knew my cousins worked: for the silence.

But I did not want to share that with David because I don't want to hurt his feelings.

"I'm glad," he said before his smile disappeared. "You know if you need someone to talk to. I am here right?"

I gave him a fake smile. This is the part I hate the most: the pity. First my family did it for me. Then, my school somehow figured out about the suicide, and everyone was too nice to me to the point it was fake. I became the person whose mom killed herself. Many of my friendships drifted as well since my friends did not know what to do and I just shut down.

"Thanks, David. I think I just need time. That's all," I answered carefully, avoiding to hurt his feelings. He nodded his head in understanding.

"Of course. I just didn't want you to hide behind it because it will just build up, and crumble down," he warned sagely. I nodded, not bothering to tell him that it was too late. That I already have reached rock bottom, and rather than go up, I am wallowing at rock bottom.

If it was before, I would've drowned my frustrations through playing the guitar and singing so loud that I could not feel anything else.

Not anymore.

I looked around the empty parking lot, before learning in and whispering, "David, I saw my mother dead. It's hard."

He gave me a sad look. "I'm sorry. I wish we kept in touch better," he apologized.

I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help but my turn my head towards him to ask, "Why didn't you?"

He gave me a sad smile. "I could ask you the same, Nate. It was your family that stopped coming to Alabama. Not mine." 

I sighed at the question that was drudging old memories that were repressed in my mind. Questions that David wanted answers for.

"I wish that I could tell you. It was my Mom who did not want any of us to come back here. I'm not sure why, but we just stopped coming here."

Dad would argue with her about it before he gave up. Most of the time, any family members that wanted to see us would fly to New York. David and his father were never those family members.

Before I could give it much thought, David slapped my back. Time will heal everything though. Lucky for us, we live in the slowest state in the damn country, so we hit the jackpot," he said, still finding time to manage a joke and gave a weak smile.

"Thank you. I should go to the supermarket to do some grocery shopping.  I will catch you later," I said getting up and tossing my warm drink away. Mom was typically the one who cooked meals at home. Now that she is gone, the kitchen is empty, and so far, dad has made no effort to fill it. 

"I know it's not the city, but you would be surprised about this place."

No one told me how hard grocery shopping was.

That was the topic rattling in my head while dragging some plastic bags towards the car. I could not help but allow my mind to wander to the countless shops in New York that was a walking distance away. Everyone's eyes fell on me like I was an intruder in their stores, and they did not have most of the products Mom would use to make her dishes.

Wallowing in my own nostalgia, I dragged my bags towards my car across the parking lot, weaving through the sparse cars.

"Damn it!"

Turning my head to the voice, my eyes shot wide open with I saw her.

It was the girl, holding a ripped plastic bag in her fingers while picking up items as quickly as possible. She was fumbling, struggling to balance the many plastic bags in her arm while picking the items.

"Hey!" I called out to her before I could process what my body was doing. She looked up, dropping the items down with surprise. "Do you need help?"

She shook her head immediately, her blue eyes shining with determination. I felt a familiar tug in my body, tuning itself to compose a song for her.

Lyrics have been flowing in my head exponentially when I see her. The amount of lyrics I have written when I thought about her. She filled the blank pages in the notebook.

"Don't worry about me. I can walk from here," she spoke firmly. Her voice was soft, her southern accent was strong like everyone else around here but it was compelling. It reminded me like an old lullaby that soothed any frustrations I had.

"You walked all the way here?"

There were no sidewalks leading to the supermarket in this wasteland, so I couldn't even imagine how far she must've walked in the grass.

"I always do," she insisted strongly, focusing on her bags.

I gestured to the ripped bag in her hand. "Are you sure you don't want me to drop you off."

She shook her head again. "It's fine, Yankee. I can walk."

Elise picked up a few bags through her arms before one of the plastic handles on the bag. Her arms were slightly trembling with the multiple bags she was picking up. I watched her pick up the occasional items that slipped from the bag, watching her pick up the items while maintain her balance with the bags.

"You are going to walk like that all the way home?" I asked skeptically, watching an item slip from her hand and landing on the road. I leaned down to pick up the herb bottle. "Let me drop you off."

"Why are you insisting on dropping me off?" Elise asked, the skin around her eyes tightening with annoyance.

My mouth was as dry as the atmosphere from her snappy question. Her eyes were glaring at me. Her skin was turning red from a mixture of the hot sun and the anger that was emitting from her.

My mind couldn't reconcile the same girl that was standing angrily in front of me was the same person days ago who appeared like a savior.

I held my hands up.

"Sorry. I just wanted to offer it. I won't bother you," I finally said.

I turned around and walked away, immediately feeling a wave of embarrassing crashing on me. I wasn't sure why I kept pushing, but I just didn't want to leave her her sight.

"Wait!"

I stopped on my track and slowly turned around to Elise walking towards me. Her blue eyes shifted between me and the road, and an uneasy look grew on her face. Any annoyance that was on her face was gone.

"I don't know," she trailed off softly, looking at me with a look I couldn't describe.

"You don't know?" I echoed. She didn't say anything for a moment, biting her lip nervously before darting her glance to her bags before she sighed.

"Just let me drop you off. It makes it easier on you, and I can sleep well tonight knowing that you are back safely," I requested softy again.

Her eyebrows shot up quickly at my sentence.

"You don't even know me," she protested softly and for a brief moment, I saw a glimpse of the girl I saw a few days ago by the cliffside.

I stayed silent because because she was right. But now, something was telling me to keep her here. The gut feeling was almost screaming for me to be near her.

Maybe it was her scent or the sound of her voice, but she was absolutely hypnotic.

"Please," I repeated, softening my voice to make her feel calm.

She gave me an uncertain glance before sighing.

"Alright," she finally conceded, taking the bags from my hands. I leaned back down to help her pick up the rest of the items.

She followed behind me until we walked to my car. Unlocking the trunk, we both put both of our groceries in the back. Looking at the white, first aid kid tucked in the corner of the trunk. Remembering her burn on her wrist, I grabbed.

Coming to the driver's seat, I opened the kit and took out some bandages.

"I am just going to wrap your burn because it looks bad."

Elise shook her head. "It's honestly okay. You don't have to..."

She stopped talking when my hand went over her wrist, and a spark course through my body. My head snapped up in direction, her eyes focused on mine. Her skin was soft under my hand, noticing how softer it looked to my own.

"Thanks," I said, not even bothering to listen to her response, focusing on wrapping a bandage around her burn. I heard her inhale sharply as I wrapped it tightly and fastening off at the end.

"Thank you," she finally said, pulling back her wrist and inspecting my job. "I am okay this time. You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay."

Looking at her smile made me feel oddly relieved. Deciding to buy it, I pulled out of the parking lot and started driving towards the highway. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she had the smallest smile on her face. A random country tune was playing quietly on the radio. When I reached a red light, Elise shifted in her passenger seat.

"I live on Fulton Street, but can you drop me at the entrance of the street?" Elise asked without another comment, glancing away from me.

I frowned at her command, not because of her random comment, but rather than the realization that was where I lived.

And I have never seen her before.

"Your wish is my command, princesa," I said absentmindedly, taking a right and focusing on the road. I heard a noise coming from her side.

My hands gripped on the stirring wheel tightly when I realized what I just called her.

"What did you just call me?" she asked in a strange tone.

"Nothing," I immediately responded, focusing on my words because words were spilling out of my mouth without any thought.

You really need to shut up, Nate.

"Princesa? Is that princess in Spanish?"

I didn't say anything, hoping that this would go away.

"Now you are ignoring me?"  she asked in an annoyed tone.

My cheeks were getting hot, and I mentally thanked God that my skin was tan enough to hide the blush. "Look who knows Spanish."

"Why did you call me princess?" she insisted further, I sensed her listening closely.

Why did I call her that?

I shrugged, "I don't know. You were just acting like a princess at that moment."

She was silent.

"How?" she asked incredulously. "You know nothing about me. You didn't have to pick me up, you know?"

She was right. I didn't have to pick her up at all. I could've gone on my merry way with my groceries, but something compelled me to stop her and insist I dropped her off. An unknown feeling swamps my mind whenever I imagined her walking alone over a mile to the supermarket.

"And you didn't have to tell me to not to jump off, but you did it. We are both just trying to be good people."

She sighed loudly. I peeked out of the corner of my eyes to her looking out of the window, arms crossed and head slightly hung. I saw her rubbing her arms, toying at the end of her bandaged wrist. Wanting to comfort her but not taking my eyes off the road, I reached out to pat her hand with comfort.

The moment I touched her hand, my hand recoiled at the sting. I planted my hands back on the stirring wheel, ignoring the warm feeling that coursed through my body.

My eyes focused on the road.

"I'm sorry for my behavior. I'm not like...I do appreciate what you're doing. I'm not always this," she apologized quietly, her body turning away with shame.

I didn't need her apology to believe that she wasn't like this.

"I'm sorry as well. I'm not usually this intrusive so don't worry about it," I responded sheepishly, feeling my cheeks burn.

She must think I am annoying for acting like that.

"No," she objected. "It's not okay. It's just not okay to be like that."

I'm not okay.

Focused on the road, I couldn't look at Elise's reaction, so we were sitting in her silence. When the car reached a red light, I slightly turned to look at her, focusing on the bandage.

"How did you even know how to do this?" she asked out of the blue, holding up her wrist to me.

My heart stopped beating at the question.

"My mom taught me first aid. She was a secretary at a hospital, so she picked up a few things," I answered carefully, blocking the dull feeling that comes with it.

"That's so nice of her," she commented. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the corner of her mouth smiled, and that fluttering feeling that came again.

From my peripheral vision, I could see her eyes on me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

She pointed to the side of the road nearest to the intersection.

"Parking here is fine," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I live down the street but here is fine."

I signaled and parked on the edge of the street. She opened the passenger door. I opened my driver's door, walking towards the trunk. She glanced over the bags, picking her own bags from mine. She turned towards me, holding lots of bags in her arms.

"Thank you for dropping me off, Yankee," she thanked me, pushing some of her blonde locks out of her face.

"No problem." I nodded, reaching for one of the bags that she allowed me to take. "I hope you feel better."

She peered up at me.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I shrugged. "From the last time I saw you. I hope that things got better."

She tilted her head. "How do you know that things were bad?"

I connected with you, and I knew how I felt.

I shrugged. "Not sure. There was just a look on your face, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't get to ask before."

She gave me a gentle smile.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Thank you again for everything," she said with a grateful smile that shined on her face. Suddenly that angry girl in the supermarket was decomposed into someone sweet. "I'll see you around, Yankee."

She waved goodbye to me before turning and walked down the street. She was walking effortlessly, holding the bags steadily as she walked. I watched her walk down the street until she went up a set of stairs.

She turned her head in my direction as she entered the house only a few houses besides mine.

"See you later, princesa."