Page 36 of On Your Life

His mom never kept a clean house and his clothes were always dirty. Kids made sure to point out the stains on his clothes or the wrinkles that were always there. My dad never cared about any of that.

Anytime Conner came over, dad would wash his clothes without making a big deal about it. He loved getting to wear my clothes. I think that’s one of the ways we grew so close. He stopped just being my friend somewhere along the way and became family. My dad became his in a weird sort of way too.

I remember one day he was so upset about having to leave. My dad drove him home and reassured him that he was welcome at our home any time. He walked him to the door and made sure he got inside. The house was dark when they arrived but the door gave way and Conner went right inside so my dad didn’t think anything of it.

He showed up at our house with the police later that night. I remember the lights flashing across our living room walls, washing everything in an eerie pulse of red and blue.

His mom had overdosed again. She hadn’t paid the electric bill so the power had been out for days at that point.

Conner had to run to the neighbor’s house just to call an ambulance and get someone there to save her. When the police asked if he had any other family that he could stay with, he gave my dad’s name. He never left again after that.

I’m thankful for my dad. For the kindness he showed a random boy that needed someone to give a shit about him.

That boy ended up helping me through one of the most difficult tragedies I’ve ever had to endure. And now I’m facing this one alone. The emptiness feels pretty familiar.

It reminds me of the weeks after my dad’s death. Those empty spaces where someone should have been. Conversations that you want to start even though you know there’s no one there to answer.

The only difference is that now I’m completely alone. The thought hangs heavy in the air.

I release my grip on the shirt. I didn’t realize how tightly I was squeezing it until I see the new wrinkles I’ve pressed into the already messed up fabric. My thumb drags over them before I force myself to let go.

Beneath the shirt are photos of us as kids. Baseball tryouts and summers at the beach. Stupid fucking smiles captured in moments neither of us knew would someday be cherished memories.

My fingers sift through them slowly before I find a laptop buried at the bottom. That explains the absurd weight of the box.

I forgot he even had this thing. I lift it out and set it on the table. The cover snaps open and a nearly dead battery greets me across the display.

The charger is tangled around itself at the bottom of the box. I pull it free, fighting with the knot until I finally get it loose, then carry the laptop into the kitchen and plug it in. The tiny charging light comes on.

My mind feels a little lighter, exactly as I was hoping it would. Maybe opening this box was the right thing to do.

My phone buzzes loudly against the countertop. I glance toward it but don’t move. I’m too fucking tired to deal with whatever the hell that is. That can be a problem for later.

Chapter 20

Conner

January 18th, 2025: Two months and four days before…

Ifeel my knuckles fracture the second my fist hits the wall. Pain reverberates through my hand, sharp enough to make my vision blur, but I barely register it. The gaping hole in the drywall is easier to look at than the blood starting to bead across my split knuckles. I’m so fucking tired of this.

“Why am I always having to bail you out of some shit?” I hiss into the phone, pacing the room. “You’re supposed to be the adult, and I’m stuck taking care of you like a child.”

“This is the last time. I swear. I’ll never touch it again honey,” she says.

Her voice is small. It almost works. It almost always works. This isn’t the first time she’s made promises she has no intention of keeping. There have been several times I’ve convinced myself she was finally on the road to recovery, only to watch her turn around the second life got difficult. One bad day and she’s right back to it. It’s a never ending fucking cycle, and I’m exhausted from being dragged around in circles with her.

“Where are you?” I sigh, grabbing my keys from the kitchen table.

I already know I’m going to go. That’s the worst part. Maybe it’s the guilt of leaving her alone when I had the chance at a better life. Maybe it’s because she’s the only blood relative I have left. Or maybe there’s some fucked up part of me that still believes if I keep showing up, eventually she’ll choose me over whatever the hell is destroying her.

Sure Fox is basically family, but it isn’t the same. It never will be.

“I’m out at the overpass,” she whispers. There’s a tremor in her voice. “Please just hurry. They’re coming.”

I slam the truck door and speed out of the cul-de-sac.

“Who’s coming?” I wait for an answer that never comes. “I’ll be there in ten,” I say.