CHAPTER 9
RILEY
Mom was smiling at me when I walked back into the house. She thought she had achieved something. All she’d achieved was Brady getting to ease some guilt. I’d probably never see him again unless it was in passing when I was walking Bryony to the park. He had his answers. He believed me. But it meant nothing to me.
“Well,” Mom said as she stared at me.
“I’m sure Brady will get a good night’s sleep tonight. His football career is safe. Sir Lancelot can continue on his merry way, bringing joy to all,” I replied with a fake cheer in my voice.
Mom’s smile fell into a frown. “Honestly, Riley, that’s not a healthy attitude. It took a lot of nerve for him to come here and talk to you. He’s the first one of your friends to believe you. That says a lot.”
I stopped walking toward the hallway and turned back around. “My friends? Are you serious, Mom? They aren’t my friends. They were never my friends. Friends don’t turn on you like that. I have never had real friends. Ever.”
“Honey, y’all were young,” she started, and I held up my hand to stop her.
“No. Do not say that. We weren’t that young. We were going into the tenth grade. They all called me a liar. All of them. When I was hurt and terrified, they turned on me. All I had was you and Dad. I do not have friends. I never have,” I repeated.
Mom leaned back on the sofa, resigned. “Okay” was her simple response. “I understand why you feel that way. I would too in your situation. Honestly when it all happened I felt like I didn’t have friends either. Everyone was different with me. As if they questioned your story too. It hurt, but I can’t imagine how much more it hurt you. If you aren’t ready for a friend or to trust someone, I understand. But one day you’re going to have to, Riley. One day you are going to need the courage to step out and let someone in. Human nature isn’t always pretty. You saw a very ugly side of it at a young age.”
This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation. But it had been a while. A year ago, a guy in the town we were living had asked me out on a date. He worked at the local movie theater, and I went there once a week to watch a movie after Bryony went to bed at night.
I had stopped going to the movies after that. The idea of facing him or even trusting someone wasn’t something I wanted to do. I didn’t desire the things I once had. I hadn’t wanted to date or get close to anyone.
Mom didn’t get it. No one got it. I was tired of trying to get them to understand. I just needed to be left alone. I liked things as they were. Changing them now was pointless. I had a rhythm. Bryony was happy with our routine. My life as a social teen was over. I was a mom.
Why couldn’t she just be happy for me? I had a plan for my future. Not all seventeen-year-olds could say that. I didn’t rely on a guy to make me feel important. That was also a solid check in my corner. So why did my mother think I still needed fixing? I was pretty damn perfect like this.
“Good night, Mom,” I said before heading down the hallway to the bathroom. Where I would soak in the tub for an hour and read a book. That was all I needed tonight. I didn’t need friends. I had Bryony. She was my world.
* * *
“Momma.” Bryony’s soft voice was in my ear. “Momma.”
I opened my eyes to see my daughter hovering over my face.
Stretching my hands over my head, I smiled up at her. “Good morning,” I said.
“Gan’mamma gone,” she replied, frowning.
That took me only a second to sink in before I sat up and swung my feet over the side of the bed and jumped up. Bryony scrambled down beside me.
“Do you mean she left the house?” I asked her.
Bryony nodded. “Her go park?” she asked hopefully. Bryony woke up wanting to go to the park. It was a daily thing. I hoped I was misunderstanding her and my grandmother was still in this house. My heart was beating frantically regardless as I jerked on a pair of shorts and ran down the hallway toward the kitchen.
“Grandmamma!” I called out loud enough so I she could hear me anywhere in the house.
No response. “Grandmamma!”
Why hadn’t Mom woken me up this morning? This wouldn’t have happened if I had been awake.
“Gan’mamma,” Bryony called out behind me. “You go park?”
I turned to look in the living room, and the front door was wide open.
“Oh God,” I whispered then reached for Bryony, picking her up and running outside at the same time.
This could not be happening. My grandmother could have gone anywhere. She couldn’t remember anything, much less directions. And I was supposed to be watching her. Why had I slept late?
I buckled Bryony into her stroller. She was still in her pajamas and needed a diaper change, but there was no time for that. I had to find my grandmother.
I shared a car with my mom. She had it at work this morning. So we would have to search on foot. My phone was still inside, beside the bed, and I would have to leave it there because there was no time to lose. Running barefoot in the tank top that I’d slept in and a pair of cut-off jean shorts, I ran toward the street pushing Bryony.
Stopping, I looked both ways, not sure which way to go first.
“Dat way, Momma,” Bryony said, pointing to the right toward town.
“Did you see her leave?” I asked Bryony.
She nodded. “Gan’mamma dat way.”
I kissed her little blond head in gratitude and started running down the sidewalk toward town, praying I found her before something bad happened. I would set my alarm for five in the morning from now on. Never again would this happen. Never again.