6: Waylay

A few days later...

“Caleb!” my aunt shouted from downstairs. “I need you to wake up!”

“Why?” I yelled back.

I heard her footsteps on the stairs and a moment later she peered around my doorway. “I’m babysitting a little girl today and I need your help. Your dad’s off at work already.”

“Uncle.”

“Right, your uncle. Anyways, I need you to get up and make breakfast.”

I pulled the covers over my head but she ripped them away. “I thought you were the one babysitting?” I said testily.

“Get up.”

She stomped out of my room, but I knew she wasn’t really mad. Sighing, I got up from the warm bed, cringing as the cold air hit my bare chest. It wasn’t really “cold”, but mornings were still chilly in early June, especially compared to my bed.

Ten minutes later, I was standing in the kitchen making scrambled eggs. My aunt sat at the table. Her actions were more worrisome than normal. She tapped nervously on the table and glanced towards the door every minute or two.

“What’s this girl’s name?” I asked, trying to make her less anxious.

“Ayva.”

“Like aviator?”

“I mean…” She shrugged and cocked her head. “I guess it’s sorta close.”

“You ever met the family before?”

She shook her head.

“That why you’re so worried?”

She didn’t answer at first. I was about to say something when she spoke up. “I’m not worried,” she mumbled.

I smiled. “Sure, you’re not.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“Was it?”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. My aunt leapt up from her seat and dashed to the front door. She ripped it open with such force, I thought she was gonna tear it from the hinges.

“Hi!” she said, a little too enthusiastically. I was surprised the mom didn’t take Ayva to a different babysitter right then. Or back home. Surely she was safer home alone than with my aunt.

“You’re Mrs.-”

“You can call me Tracy!” my aunt enthused.

I shook my head and laughed quietly, cooking at the stove.

“This is Ayva,” said the mom, who I couldn’t see.

“This is Ayva!” my aunt exclaimed. “Well, she’s so darn cute!”

I heard a nervous laugh. I guessed it was the mom. “So I’ll be here to pick her up at 5… unless you want me to come sooner?”

“Oh, no! Take your time. Ayva will be just fine here. Maybe even happy!”

A few minutes later, my aunt returned to the kitchen, urging forward a little black girl I assumed was Ayva. She didn’t look comfortable with my aunt at all.

“Hey there,” I said, smiling at her.

Ayva’s dark brown eyes lit up as she giggled and hid her face behind a hand, instantly seeming more at ease. She looked down at the floor, black braids running over her shoulder. My aunt led her over to the table where she sat down.

“Those almost ready?” my aunt asked.

“Yeah.” I started to scoop the eggs onto a plate. “She’s cute.”

“Mmhm.”

“I thought you were gonna scare her mom away,” I said with a smile. “Take it easy next time.”

“I was just so excited.” My aunt shrugged. “She didn’t seem to mind.”

“Yeah…”

I pushed the eggs forward onto Ayva’s plate with a spoon. I handed her one for herself and she hungrily began to devour the breakfast.

“Oops,” she said with a mouthful. “I forgot to say thanks.”

“It’s okay,” I said laughing. “You’re eating more excitedly than anyone else has when I cook. That’s thanks enough in itself.”

“Excitedly?” She gave me a curious look.

“It means you’re excited about something. Ya know?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, taking another mouthful of eggs. “Duh.”

My aunt grinned as she watched our small conversation. “You two are gonna get along really good, I think.”

I smiled at Ayva. She kept eating the eggs.

<><><><><>

“And this is my room.”

I opened the door and could instantly tell it was Ayva’s favorite place in the house. I’d been taking her on a tour around our home, which was lacking of any toys for a seven-year-old. I wasn’t even sure if seven-year-olds played with toys. Weren’t they all into Xbox’s and Wii’s nowadays?

“I like it,” she said.

She gave me a sly smile then dashed in and jumped onto my bed. Laying on her back, she spread out her arms and legs and looked at the ceiling overhead.

“Why’s your bed so big?” she asked. “Mines not nearly this big.”

“Well, you’re not nearly as big as me,” I said, mimicking her voice.

She frowned at me. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No, no. Of course not.” Whoops.

Ayva laughed and hid behind her hand again. “I’m just kidding.”

“You sly dog,” I said.

“Charlie Brown says that too!” she said. “Are you like Charlie Brown?”

“I think they based Charlie Brown off of me,” I lied, wondering what she would say.

“What’s based mean?”

“Never mind.”

She shrugged, not caring that there was a word she didn’t know. I wondered if she was behind in her schoolwork or something. Most kids her age would know what I had meant.

“No, I’m not behind in my schoolwork.”

I looked up from the carpet to see her hiding under one of my blankets.

“What’d you say?”

I heard a giggle. “Nothing.”

“Did I say something out loud?”

She peeked out from the cover. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t?”

She shrugged. “All I know is this bed is comfy. Can I sleep here?”

“Sleep? You’re not spending the night.”

“When I do spend the night.”

I looked at her curiously and took a seat in my spinny chair. “Why would you spend the night?”

She shrugged again. I noticed that when she did, she only moved one shoulder. The other simply sat there.

“I mean, I guess you can sleep on my bed. Do you still take naps?” I asked. Surely, she didn’t.

“I will if I can sleep in here.”

“No, I mean you don’t have to. I was just wondering.”

“Are those your parents?” she asked. Her eyes never left mine, and never moved to the picture beside my bed. I wasn’t sure how she could see it.

“Where?”

“In the picture.”

“How can you see my picture?”

She shrugged again then giggled and hid underneath the cover.

“Yeah, they are. Well… they were.”

“Are they dead?” She asked it so emotionlessly, it was a little discomforting. “Or did they not love you?” No feeling.

My mouth hung open and I gave her a blank stare. “I mean… They… Of course they loved me.”

“So they’re still alive?”

“Yeah. I think.”

“Then why’d they give you away?”

“They didn’t give me away.” I felt color rise to my cheeks. I was almost angry. This little girl knew all the right buttons to push; I couldn’t help but wonder if it was on purpose. “I was staying here because they didn’t have enough money, and they were having some problems.”

“Were you one of their problems?”

I stood up. “I think you should take a nap. You can sleep in here. I need to go… shower. Or something.”

“Why? Do I make you feel unclean?”

I closed the door behind me and noticed I was sweating. I exhaled loudly and started for the steps when I heard it.

“I don’t think he likes us either,” Ayva said.

There was a moment of silence, then she asked, “Do you think we should tell him about her?”

I listened for a minute, terrified that somebody else would answer. But of course nobody did, and no other sounds came from my room.

My legs were shaking as I struggled to walk down the stairs.

<><><><><>

When Ayva left later that afternoon, I decided not to tell my aunt what happened. It was probably her imaginary friend, or something along those lines. Still, the seriousness in her questions and how she knew what I was thinking disturbed me. I wasn’t sure whether I was looking forward to the next day or not.

And on top of that, who was the “her” Ayva was talking about?

Since there was still a few hours of daylight left, I figured I should go see if Abigail was back yet. If she was, I would tell her all about Ayva. If not, I would go see whether Xavier was home. He’d given me his address, and said his mom would welcome me at any time.

It was a short walk to Abigail’s house, but in that small expanse of time my heart managed to beat twice as fast and my brain thought of many reasons why it would be better not to go. She might be mad at me for my questions. Maybe I had pushed too far. She could be extremely busy or stressed today.

But no matter what my brain said, I kept walking.

Before long, I was knocking on her door again. This time, it was opened within a few seconds and the person standing there was a man in his 30s with a buzzcut. He wore a tight, dark shirt and his thick eyebrows were firmly pushed close together. For whatever reason, he looked unhappy to see me.

“Mr… um, Abigail’s uncle?” I shifted awkwardly under his gaze.

“Yes,” he said with a voice so low I thought he might be growling.

“Is she… um, home yet?”

“Stop saying um. And straighten up.” I put my feet together and stood as straight as I could. “Little better,” he said, giving me a disapproving sweep with his eyes. “She’s not here. Won’t be ‘til tomorrow.”

“Oh, well, okay then.” I turned to go.

“How do you know her?” he asked.

I turned around. “We’re just friends. Remember when I took her to the movies?”

“She went to the movies?”

I could tell from his expression she hadn’t told him, and probably not her aunt either. “Crap,” I muttered as I backed away towards the road. This was bad.

“Where are you going?” he asked angrily.

I was already sprinting down the sidewalk, away from him, as fast as I could.

<><><><><>

Later that day, almost sunset, I made my way to the address Xavier had given me. Standing in front of the smooth, white door, I rang and waited for it to open.

“Xavier’s mom?” I asked, standing in front of the tidy, small house.

I realized I didn’t know his or Abigail’s last name. That would be something to ask next time I saw either one.

She held the door open and smiled at me. “Yes. Are you a friend of his?”

“Yes, I am. I was wondering if he’s home?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s gone away for a few days.”

“Oh.”

I heard something ding in the kitchen. “Would you like to come in?” she asked. “I’ve just made dinner.”

“I don’t want to-”

“It’s no problem at all, I swear.” She grinned, looking embarrassed. “I made too much anyways. Seems like I always do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been good at measuring things. But it always turns out okay.”

“Well, what did you make?” I asked.

“Come in and you’ll see.”

I struggled not to laugh when I went into the kitchen and found three platefuls of waffles. There were a few bottles of syrup set out beside them and a half-dozen plates with silverware set out on the smooth, clean table.

“This is dinner?” I asked, holding back a smile.

“Yeah. I got lazy.”

“Why did you set out six plates?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes I forget.”

“Forget what?”

“Lots of things.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, and I didn’t want to ask any more questions, so I sat down and reached for a waffle.

“Wait,” she said. “More people might be coming.”

“Who?”

Without answering, she sat down across from me on the opposite side of the table. “Alrighty. We can eat now. No one’s coming.”

“So what day is Xavier gonna be back?” I asked as I poured syrup onto my waffle.

She chewed for a minute as she thought. “I think Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Possibly Friday.”

“Not Thursday?”

“No, definitely not Thursday.”

I nodded. It was pointless to argue.

“So Xavier said you have a girlfriend?”

Looking up from my plate, I saw she was focused on her own and didn’t even glance at me. “Not really. I’m just friends with this girl.”

“What’s her name?” She stabbed a piece of waffle and brought it to her mouth.

“Abigail.”

I heard her fork clatter as it dropped on the plate.

“What?” I asked.

She shook herself back to reality and picked up her fork. “Nothing, nothing.”

“No, what is it?” I asked. “Do you know her?”

“I think this needs heated up.” She stood up and grabbed her plate, heading for the microwave.

“You just got that one off the waffle maker?”

“Oh.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Did I?”

“What are you not telling me? Do you know Abigail?” I stared at her with an unwavering gaze.

“I… Not really.”

“Not really? Is that yes or no?”

“I know about her,” she said. “I don’t really know her.”

“What do you know about her?”

“Things.”

“What kind of things? She’s my girlfr-” I stopped myself. “She’s my friend. I want to know.”

“They’re her own things. I can’t tell you.”

“Then how do you know?”

She looked at the wall. “Oh, look at the time. I think you need to get going.”

I turned around to see the same spot on the wall. There was no clock. When I turned back to face her, she had run out the door to the garage. I chased after, but when I got to the empty, cold room there was nothing except cardboard boxes.

“Hello?” I called.

I didn’t see any open doors that she could have run through. Following would be pointless, anyways.

“Why won’t anyone tell me!” I screamed until my voice echoed around all the walls. I slammed the door shut behind me, hoping it would crack.

Before leaving, I wrote my number on a napkin and said that she could call me if she ever decided to tell what she knew. I grabbed a few waffles to eat on the way home and then left.

Just before I closed the front door, I could have sworn I heard sobs.

<><><><><>

You’d think that I would learn my lesson. Never walk down dark streets at night. It’s always a mistake. But I didn’t learn.

“I missed you.”

The figure on the bench sprang up and joined me walking down the sidewalk. Once again, it was nighttime. Once again, I’d been ambushed.

“Are we really gonna do this again?” I snapped.

“Do what?” the boy asked. He smiled terribly again as we passed through the light from a street lamp. It was terribly dark out here, and being with him made it seem more so.

“Try to scare me, or freak me out, or whatever the he-”

“Sounds like you need some soap,” he said. “For that dirty mouth of yours.”

“I’m good.”

“I’m better.”

I looked over at him. “What?”

He smiled and shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“You look like this girl we babysit when you did that.”

The boy laughed. “Did I?”

“Yeah, you did. You both only shrug with one shoulder.”

“Wait, you babysit someone?” He looked at me curiously. “Why?”

“No, not me. My aunt does. I just help.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Makes sense. What’s your aunt’s name?”

I stared at him blankly as we kept walking. “Why would I tell you? Why am I telling you any of this?”

“You can’t help but talk to me. I’m infectious.” He brushed my shoulder with his finger. “Toxic. Like the song.”

“Shut up.”

He smiled. “And about your aunt’s name: when I meet her, I gotta be able to call her by name.”

“Just call her my aunt.”

“So ‘Caleb’s aunt?’ She’d be fine with that?”

I stopped walking. “How do you know my name?”

The wind picked up as I waited breathlessly for his answer. I knew that I hadn’t told him it. Had he said my name last time? I couldn’t remember.

“I just know.”

He tried to keep going, but I stood my ground. He stopped as well.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“Tell me how you know my name.”

“That’s a story for another time.”

“It’s a story for right now.” I fixed my eyes on him, my gaze unwavering.

“Um… Abigail told me. Ya know? That girl you went to the movies with.”

“You know her? Why would she tell you my name?”

He shrugged. “Guess she just likes me. Or maybe you.” He winked at me.

I pulled out my phone dramatically. “Alright. Let me text her and see if she knows you.”

“No, no!” He shook his head frantically. “Don’t text her. Not yet.”

“She won’t even answer? She might not even hear it ding. What are you freaking out about?”

I put the phone back in my pocket as he sighed with relief. “That would have been a very bad mistake.”

“How come?” I asked.

“Just trust me.”

“How can I trust you when I don’t even know your name?”

He smacked himself in the forehead. “No wonder you think I’m a creep! You don’t even know my name.”

“Not sure that would change anything.”

“It’s Damian.”

I nodded. “So you seem a little more… human today. Damian.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You just don’t seem crazy. Or weird. Or gay.” I laughed awkwardly.

“I have my moments.”

“For which of those?”

Damian winked at me. “All of them.”

“Whatever.”

“So when can I meet the little girl you babysit?” He chuckled quietly, as if he knew something I didn’t.

“Ayva?”

“Ooh, now I know her name, too.” He clapped his hands giddily. “Wonderful.”

I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was focused on the dark buildings all around us, staring at them. Nighttime made the town seem full of ghosts, and vacant of everything else. I wondered if he felt the same at night -if it scared him like it did me. He certainly seemed to be familiar with it.

“Why would you want to meet her?” I asked.

“Just because. She sounds friendly.”

“I haven’t told you anything about her?”

He smirked. “But I’ve listened.”

We got to the turn that would lead me home. This part of town seemed especially empty, even in the daytime. I wasn’t comfortable staying alone with Damian here, or anywhere else for that matter.

“So this is where I leave you?” he asked.

I turned. “How do you know?”

He winked at me again and began walking down the road.

“How do you know where I live?” I shouted louder than necessary.

“Best not shout. You might wake the creeps.” He sighed. “After all my work putting them to bed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think I’m weird?” he asked.

I  didn’t answer, choosing to glare at him instead.

“You have no idea, pretty boy. Things can get much, much weirder.”