Torrid Affair(33)

I closed my eyes, hoping that this story would end soon.

“He chipped my tooth and I fell back on the gravel. He stood over me and swung a few times, hitting my ribs and face. It wasn't until he kicked me in the gut and I spit up blood that I realized I had enough. I stood up and spit blood at his face. I shouted that one day I would be as big as he was and, when he was least expecting it, I would kill him.”

I gasped.

His gaze locked with mine. “I was eight years old when I tried to kill him.” I closed my eyes, terrified of was he was about to tell me.

“A week after I threatened him, I took a knife from the kitchen and hid it under my mattress. He always rose during the night to use the bathroom. Most nights he was piss drunk and stumbled his way back to his room. I figured that would be the best time to do it. That night after dinner I told Julian I planned to kill Roger. We all went to bed, and when he got up to pee I reached under my mattress, but there was no knife. Someone had taken it. I heard footsteps from the bathroom and rushed to open the bedroom door, but to my surprise it was Janice, my foster mom, standing in the hallway. She told me to get to bed and to thank my little brother for saving me from doing something stupid.”

I looked at him, confused. “Julian had told Sonia what I planned to do, in detail, apparently. A few days later, I was relocated to a different foster family. I hated that I left Julian behind but I had no choice. A few years later, a woman knocked on the door and announced I had been adopted.”

Nate’s teeth ran across his lower lip, and a few seconds passed before he spoke again. “Louisa came and picked me up. I had no idea what was going on until we pulled up to her house and Julian came running out. Shortly after I was shipped off to the new foster home, Julian’s mother got her life together. She fought to get her rights back and then started the application to adopt me. He’s the reason I was taken out of the system. They gave me a home.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear dripped from my cheek and landed on the back of my hand. Nate downed the remainder of his drink and licked the corners of his lips. Shaking my head in disbelief, I wiped away my tears. “I’m so sorry, Nate. I had no clue.”

He shrugged and exhaled. “It was a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you go with Julian to Louisa’s for Christmas break?”

“I hate that she helps me pay my tuition. I know she considers me her son, but I hate that I depend on her. The reason I did two years of community college was because I didn't want her to pay for me. When I enrolled here, the tuition was still more than I could handle, so she gladly handed me a check. Any extra work I can do around campus to help lower what she has to pay is better than me sitting on her couch for four weeks. She gave me everything I ever wanted, and I don’t want her money. Her love is all I need.”

“Is that why you didn’t go to the shelter?”

“My first Thanksgiving with Louisa, we all went as a family. Apparently, when she was getting her life together, this shelter gave her a safe place to stay. It’s how she pays them back. My first time going, there was a man in charge of the whole organization. I noticed right away that he looked like me. Louisa later told me he was my biological father, the one who walked out on me when I was two years old. And you know what? He was there with his wife and three children. I had been shipped off to foster homes to live with people like Roger, and there he was looking like a saint because he funded the program.”

“Shit, Nate…”

“That was my first and only time. I asked Louisa if I could never go back and she agreed.”

“That makes sense.” I reached for the remote and pressed the on button. I couldn’t take anymore horrible stories. “Do you want to watch something?” I flicked through the channels.

“I don’t care. Whatever you want.” He reached for the half empty bottle of Coquito. “But you should probably make some more of this.”

I threw him the remote and pushed quickly off the couch to my feet. My head spun. The alcohol wasn’t helping. “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too.” Nate moved from the computer chair and sat on the couch where I had been. I walked over to the makeshift kitchen and popped two Pop-Tarts into the toaster and two hot pockets into the microwave before I busied myself with my next batch of Coquito. I poured the batch into another glass bottle and set it in the fridge to chill.

Nate found the first Home Alone on TV as I handed him a plate. “Hot Pockets and Pop-Tarts?” He looked down at the plate and then up at me. “Dinner and dessert.” I plopped down on the seat next to him. “Don’t say I never made you anything.”