Going Home

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“Mom? Mom, it’s Shawn.”

“Shawn! Where the hell are you? Oh my God, Shawn! Are you okay? Do I need to—“

“I’m fine Mom,” I cut her off. “I’m fine. I’ll be home tomorrow.” Before she can respond I slide my finger over the button and hang up on her. And it hits me that I’m standing in some God-forsaken gas station in the middle of nowhere, dial tone ringing in my ear. I slam the phone down and race out the door.

I yank open the door of my pickup, the rusty red door swinging on its hinge, and get in. I slam the door. I'm crying. I’m pathetic, I think. I run my hand up my face, up through my shaggy dark hair. I lean against the door and prop my chin in my hand, trying to ignore the thick tears blocking my throat and stinging my eyes. I stare blankly out the window. The black sky and the bright lights of the convenience store contrast sharply against each other. There are no stars. Small packs of girls in short shorts run in and out for soda and candy; men in baseball caps buy chips and beer. I lose track of time. Fewer people come and go. My heavy eyelids droop. I’m drifting away and soon I slip into nothingness.

I wake up sometime before dawn. My hair is matted to my sweaty forehead and my legs are stiff from sleeping in my car.

“Oh God.” I mutter. I push the door open and step outside. The still air reeks of night, cigarettes, and gasoline. I push open the door, blinking and swearing under my breath as I move from the darkness to the bright fluorescents. My stomach grumbles--rows of nuts and snack cakes call my name from the aisles.

I fill the biggest Styrofoam cup I can find with steaming coffee and toss a small package of donuts on the counter. I head back to my truck, climb in front, and start it up. 4:53 in the morning. I am so messed up right now.

I turn the radio on. I turn it off. I roll the window down. I roll it back up, and take a bite of my donut. I pull out of the parking lot, onto the rough, empty road, and just drive. I let my thoughts wander into the past.

Yet another repetitive episode of Scooby Doo blared from the living room, where Cassie was laying on the couch. After several long days, she was still sick--her fever was gone, but her throat was raw and her energy waning. I walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer. “What flavor you want?” I called out.

“Grape.” My little sister called back.

“You mean the grossest flavor ever?” I teased, but she didn’t hear me. I grabbed her popsicle and set it on the counter. I debated getting one for myself, but of course Mom had only bought the kind Cassie liked. I’d rather have a sore throat all night than eat a grape popsicle. I thought.

The front door opened and shut. Mom was home from work. Since it was a Saturday, I’d been on sick-kindergartener-house-arrest all weekend, while Mom played friendly minimum-wage waitress at the diner down the block.

“How are you, baby?” I heard Mom ask Cassie. I shuffled around in the cabinets, looking for some Motrin to ward off the pain pressing against my forehead.

“I have no time to be sick.” I muttered to myself. I located the bottle and spilled two pills into my hand. I turned to the sink and filled a glass of water. Mom walked in right as I was popping the pills into my mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” She cried. “What the hell is that?”

What's wrong with her? I thought and I took a long drink of water. “I have a headache.” I said. I noticed the popsicle on the counter. “Oh, I forgot to take this to Cass.”

“What the hell are you taking pills for?” She yelled again, darting towards me.

I took a step backwards. “I have a headache. I already said that. Get out of my face, Mom. It’s just Motrin.”

“Oh no.” Mom said. “No, it’s not just anything! I don’t want you getting addicted to any of that shit like your dad was!”

Every muscle went rigid under my skin. “Dad wasn’t an addict.” I shook my head. “He wasn’t!”

Mom laughed; barking, humorless laughter. She took another step closer. I could smell the beer on her breath and took another step back. The handle of the dishwasher pressed into the small of my back.

“That’s funny, baby.” Mom said. “That’s real funny. Your dad wasn’t an addict. Chris wasn’t an addict, like hell!”

I shook my head, sneering at her. “Mom.” I said. “You’re drunk. Cassie and I are sick. I think it’s best for everyone if we all just go to bed.” My voice was thick and fierce, but quiet enough I hoped Cassie couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t make her hate Mom and Dad too.

“Chris sure was an addict.” My mother babbled on. “Got himself addicted to pain pills, just like you’re popping.”

“Shut up, Mom.” I snapped. “Quit lying.”

“You are a…child…Shawn McKenzie.” She said. She tried to point at me, but her hand was shaking and her arm veered in the air. “You cannot tell me what to do.”

“I’m not a child!” I shouted back. “Who’s been stuck here taking care of Cassie for two days? I hauled her home on my bike in 40 degree weather, and I missed school because you weren’t here.”

“I have to work for a living!” Mom threw her arms up. I put mine out in front of me. “Does no one appreciate that?”

“Were you really at work?” I demanded. “Or did you just go out drinking?”

“I was at work! I have to work!”

“Didn’t you tell me your shift ends at eight? It’s almost ten now, Mom. Where do you go?”

“I was working!” She cried. “I work for a living, dammit!”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I know you do, Mom.” The characters began to talk louder as Cassie turned up the volume to drown us out. I took a deep breath and I plastered on a fake smile. I felt every muscle trembling under my tee-shirt, but carefully kept my voice level. “I’m sorry, Mom.” I said. “Why don’t you just go to bed? And Cassie and I will go to bed soon, okay?”

“We are not done here, Shawn Ma-Matthew…We’re not. We are not done.” But she turned around and started to leave the kitchen, stumbling down the hallway to her room.

“Okay.” I said. “Good night, Mom.”

I stood there a few moments, holding my breath until I heard her door shut. I gripped the edge of the counter, cool granite between my fingers. I shut my eyes and took a few shaky breaths to steady myself. So much for getting rid of that headache, I thought. My hand landed on the grape popsicle, already forming a small puddle on the counter. I threw it back in the freezer and grabbed a new one.

“Hey Cass.” I said as I entered the living room. “What’d I miss? Did they find out who the bad guy was?”

Cassie looked up at me, her chocolate eyes wide and shiny. “Why is Mommy mad at us?” She asked. She wasn’t crying, but she sounded like she had been or was about to.

I sat down next to her.“She isn’t mad.” I said. I had to think fast. “She’s just…tired. You know, because she’s been working so much.”

Cassie nodded. She accepted this lie. “Can I have my popsicle?”

“Of course you can.” I opened the wrapper and handed it to her. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

She stuck the popsicle in her mouth and handed me the remote. We decided to watch Shrek, a movie Cass loved and I could tolerate. I pulled some of her blanket into my own lap. Cassie sucked on bites of popsicle and managed to finish it all before falling asleep with the stick in her hand and sticky purple juice rimming her mouth.

I watched that stupid ogre for a few more minutes by myself before realizing Cassie was out like a light. I slid her feet out of my lap and plucked the stick from her hand. I grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and wiped the melted popsicle off her face the best I could.

I stood up and went to throw it away. The kitchen light was still on, illuminating the stacks of dirty dishes in the sink and the bottle of ibuprofen on the counter, still open. I filled two glasses of water and spilled three more of those damn Motrin into my hand. I knew from the weight of the beer smell on her breath that Mom would have a wicked hangover the next morning.

I set up the coffee maker so both Mom and I could function through the next day. I ripped the lid off of the can of cheap grounds, slammed the coffee pot under the basket, punched the timer buttons.

I picked up my glass and drank almost half of it in two large gulps, letting the cool water calm both my throat and my temper, just for a second. I scooped up the pills and the other glass. To the left of the kitchen, the end of Shrek was on, an animated donkey singing ”I’m a Believer” with a bunch of fairy tale characters. The light of the TV flickered over Cassie’s face as she rested, oblivious to it all.

To the right, the hallway to the bedrooms was dark. Mom’s room was at the end of the hall. I carefully pushed the door open and in the dim light, I could see her sprawled out on the bed, snoring. Like always, I put the water and the Motrin down in front of the clock, where I knew she’d see them. Then I tiptoed out around strewn clothes and gently shut the door behind me.

Now, as I bump along the crappy midwest roads and watch the pink pinstripe of sun swell on the horizon, I think about that night two years ago. That fight with Mom wasn’t the worst one, and it certainly wasn’t the first or only one. So why does it stand out to me? I chew on my bottom lip and flip on the radio. I recognize the song. How do I know this song? Dad, I realize. That’s how. This was one of Dad’s favorite songs, before that steamy July day shortly after I turned thirteen. I heard this song long before I heard Mom and Dad’s worst sober fight. Dad and I jammed out to the guitar solo back before he decided that our family just wasn’t good enough for him anymore. I punch the button with my thumb, cutting the singer’s smooth Southern voice off mid-word. I roll down the window--more noise, less thinking. I eat the rest of my donuts.

Madison: 104, a green mile marker warns me. 104 miles home. Just a few hours. I take a deep breath and blow it out. Am I really ready to go back? Why did I even leave in the first place?

The night I left, almost a week ago, Cassie was standing on her head watching Spongebob. Her little sock feet swung in the air as she balanced herself against the couch and the wall. “F is for friends who do stuff together. U is for you and me!” She started singing along and I laughed at her.

Since she had occupied the couch with her gymnastics, I was laying on the floor with my head resting on a pillow. I knew Mom would be home any time, and I’d be able to leave. “Don’t kick the wall too hard, Cass.” Her head was starting to slide into the gap between the cushions, her long dark hair tangling in her face. “And don’t fall in the couch.”

She ignored me and kept singing along. “N is for anywhere and anytime at all! Down here with my best buddies!”

I shook my head, but I was smiling. “You know Cass,” I told her, thinking out loud. “Big kids like me don’t usually watch kids shows like this, but that’s why I keep you around. I have an excuse to stay little.”

She smiles, the gaps of missing baby teeth showing off the innocence I had sworn we’d both lost. She tumbles out of her headstand, falling to the ground with a thump. She slides across the floor and lays next to me with her head on my chest. She fits so perfectly.

“Thump, thump.” Cassie giggles. “Thump, thump. I like listening to your heart.”

“Oh yeah?” I smile. “Let me listen to yours.” I put my ear to her shirt just long enough to hear one breath between giggles, then grabbed her around the waist and tickled her. She erupted into laughter and tried to push me away. I just sat there as she tried to push me over. She wanted to be mad at me, but she couldn’t stop laughing.

Mom opened the front door, threw her cigarette on the porch behind her, and slammed it shut. She took one look at us wrestling and tickling on the floor and rolled her eyes. “Both of you quit rough housing before somebody gets hurt.” she snapped.

Cassie’s eyes went wide, and we both got to our feet. “How was work, Mom?” She asked.

“Busy.” Mom told her. She handed Cassie a box of take-out, probably burgers from the diner again. “Here, I brought you guys some dinner. I think I’m gonna jump in the shower and then I need to head to the mall.”

“Hang on.” I said. “I can still go hang out at Andrew’s, right?” I knew the answer.

“I have been at work all day.” She said. That wasn’t true. Her shift started at two. She’d had plenty of time. “I just need some time for myself to get things done and I need you to be a part of this family and watch Cassie a little longer.”

“Mom,” I argued. “It’s Friday night. This was supposed to be my one night not to babysit. You promised me."

“I didn’t promise you anything, Shawn.” She kicked off her shoes.

“Yes, you did!” I shot back. “Remember? I told you I was going to go to Andrew’s and you said okay. Do you realize that I’m seventeen and I have no social life? Do you?” Cassie grabbed her stuffed bunny by the ear and disappeared into her room.

“You will not talk to me like that.” She snapped.

“Mom, I don’t ask for a lot--”

“You know, sometimes you think you’re the only one with problems, Shawn. There are other people in the world besides you.”

“Besides me?” I threw my hands up. “Mom.”

“No, Shawn.” She walked past me, towards the bathroom. “I need to go get some stuff done, and I really just need you to help me out tonight. You’re babysitting and we’re done talking about this.”

“Fine.” I said. I plopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote, changing the channel to anything but Spongebob.

Mom came back twenty minutes later out of her waitress uniform, her blonde hair pulled up high on her head. “Alright, Shawn.” She picked up her purse and crossed her arms. “I’m leaving. Call if you need anything.”

My eyes didn’t leave the TV. “Bye.” I said. The minute Mom’s car turned out of the driveway, I called Cassie out of her room.

“Yeah, Shawn?” She asked. The timidness in her voice broke my heart.

“Look, Cass,” I told her. “You’re eight now, right?” She nodded. “You know what? I think you’re old enough to stay home by yourself for a little bit.”

“I don’t really want to.” She sat down on the couch and inched towards me. “I don’t really want to at night.”

“Oh c’mon,” I tried to bribe her with false cheer. “I have my phone. We’ll lock the door. You know the rules, right?”

“Uh-huh.” She whispered.

“I won’t be gone very long .”

“Where are you going?” She asked, as if she were coming with me.

“A couple of guys are just going to hang out at someone’s house.” I reached for my shoes and put them on.

“Oh, okay. If it’s just a few people, can I go with you?”

“You wouldn’t want to go, Cass.” I said. “Trust me. You’ll be fine. Don’t touch the stove or the oven – just the microwave, okay? You can have one of the burgers Mom brought home, if you save me one. Don’t open the door and don’t pick up the phone unless it’s me or Mom. Don’t call anyone but me.” I reached for the doorknob. “Oh, and if Mom calls, tell her I’m asleep or doing homework or something. Don’t tell her I’m gone. I’ll be back about ten.”

“Shawn?” Cassie said.

Something between a sigh and a groan escaped me. “What? I’m leaving.” But I turned around to face her anyway. She flung her skinny arms around my waist. “I’ll be back soon, Cass.” I kissed the top of her head and slammed the door behind me.

I got to Andrew’s house, fully expecting just three or four guys settling in for a few hours of eating whole bags of Doritos and watching mind-numbing movies in his basement. Instead, he greeted me with his keys in hand.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

“Yeah and so are you.” He said. “I just got a text from Mully. He and Lia are on their way over to Mark’s party. Let’s get over there.”

In my head I counted on one hand the number of times Mark and I had ever had a conversation. I pulled my mouth into a smile. “Let’s go.” I followed him out the door.

We arrived to the heavy stench of pot smoke, a crackly speaker, and Lia already wasted. I looked around the living room--I knew only about half of the people sitting close together and laughing on Mark’s ratty brown couch. Mark fist bumped Andrew and handed him a beer.

“Hey Shawn.” Mark said.

“How’s it going?” I said.

A girl plopped herself down in Mark’s lap and he never answered my question. A blonde guy I’d met through Andrew--Nick? Nate?--jumped up and turned up the music, the popping static in the speaker becoming more exaggerated and obnoxious. I sat down on another couch with Andrew, who introduced me to Tucker, a bearded senior who had supplied most of the booze. A girl with blue hair sat down and leaned against him. I was mid-sentence a few minutes later when my phone started ringing in my pocket and cut me off. Shooting an apologetic look to the group of people I barely knew, I picked it up.

“Hello?” I said over the music.

“Shawn. Shawn,” Cassie cried. “Will you come home?”

“What happened, Cass? What’s wrong?”

“Someone keeps calling and asking for Mom. I don’t know who it is, but he won’t stop.”

“Cass,” I said, exasperation creeping up my throat. “Didn’t I tell you not to pick up the phone?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’m scared.”

“What did he want?” I asked. The girl with Tucker started squealing. I plugged my free ear with my finger to hear her.

“He said something about windows or something?”

“It’s a telemarketer, Cassie. It’s no big deal. I’m sorry it scared you, but don’t call me anymore. Just don’t pick up the phone.”

“Oh, okay. Okay, I guess. Bye.”

“Bye.” I slammed my phone shut and turned back to the circle of people, which, while I was on the phone, had expanded to include even more unfamiliar faces. “Sorry about that you guys. My little sister’s scared over a telemarketer. How stupid is that?” They laughed and I felt a little more relaxed.

But not twenty minutes later, my phone rang again. “Yeah?” I said.

“Shawn. He keeps calling me and it’s freaking me out.”

“Cass, I told you just don’t answer it anymore.”

“But he won’t quit it.” She whined.

“Will you calm down? It’s ok, just relax please.”

She agreed, reluctantly and I hung up. But a few minutes later she called again. “Cassidy,” I growled. “what do you want?”

Andrew pointed a thumb in my direction. “Look at this guy. He lets this kid run his life.” The girls laughed.

“He won’t stop calling me, Shawn.” She was in full blown tears now.

“You won’t stop calling me.”

“He asked me what my name was. It was creeping me out.”

“Cass, don’t worry about it. He’ll do everything he can to sell whatever it is he’s selling.”

“But it—it’s scary.”

“Then don’t pick up the phone. And you know what? Don’t call me anymore either. This is a really stupid thing to be worried about. And I don’t want to deal with you tonight. Just leave me alone.” I hung up. I slipped a cig from my pocket and Tucker lit me up. I leaned into the conversation and tried to act interested in the girls’ thick web of gossip; smiling, nodding, ooh'ing and ahh'ing on cue. I watched the blonde guy who had turned up the music grab Lia by the hand and pull her towards a bedroom. Don't do it, I thought instantly, as if my subconscious could protect her. Andrew turned away from me, creating a wall with his body between the rest of the group and I.

The next time my phone rang I just put my hand in my pocket and turned it off.

“Cass!” I called, finally getting home a few hours later. “Cassie?” Silence was my only reply. The muted TV flickered, casting light on the empty couch. “C’mon don’t be mad at me.” I started down the hallway and pushed open the door to her room. It was empty. I peeked in the bathroom and Mom’s room. She wasn’t there. “Cass?” I called again.

I heard the front door shut. “Hey guys,” Mom called. “Can you help me get something out of the car?”

“Mom.” I said. “I can’t find Cassie.”

“What do you mean you can’t find Cassie? How did you lose her?” She set down her shopping bags and joined me in search the house. “Cassie? Cassie?” We call her name. I know she can’t be gone. But what if she is? What if she went outside got hurt or kidnapped? What if she’s already a million miles away? What if she just left? What if she tried to go to a friend’s house and got lost? What if –

“What Mom?” I heard a small voice from inside the closet. I swing the door open, and there she is, curled up under a shelf full of towels. She was half-asleep and confused, but she was there.

I knelt down to hug her, but she pushed me away. “No.” She cried. “I hate you! I kept trying to call you and call you and you didn’t pick up. I thought your car crashed and I thought you died!”

“What?” I fell back to the floor.

“I hate you.” She repeated, shaking her head. She jumped up and threw her arms around Mom.

My mother launched into the tirade of her life, but I just pushed past them. I needed to drive. I needed to leave. I didn’t know where. Anywhere but there. I flew out the door, Mom’s shrill voice following me, jumped in my truck, and just drove. I made it to the end of the block and turned right. I went through town and since I got that far, I slammed my fist against the dashboard and kept going. The boulder in my throat threatened to choke me on the way out of the county and I was on my second cigarette when I hit the state line.

After couple hundred miles, three cigarettes, and a warm can of Coke I found in the back seat, I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I pulled into a gas station, locked all the doors, and passed out.

The next two days began in the same way: After way too little sleep I jumped awake at the first sound in the lot, went through a drive through for a bite to eat, and spent most of the day in a large park across the street from the gas station. My legs felt like lead and my head was full of cotton--but I didn’t care. I liked being too numb to think, spending my days plodding along the sidewalks. I was wandering aimlessly on the second day.when something smacked me in the shoulder. I tripped and heard something plastic crack under my shoe. I looked down to find a Frisbee, which thanks to me, now had a wide crack through the middle.

“Hey, you alright?” A voice called. A boy just a little younger than me, apparently the owner of the voice and the Frisbee came bounding through the grass, a blonde little girl following him.

“Oh, yeah,” I picked up the piece of plastic. “Um, sorry about that. I stepped on it. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, no problem. I have to watch where I throw.” The boy answered, taking it from me.

“Want to come play with us?” The little girl asked. Good God she’s got the same bribe smile as Cass, I realized before I could stop myself.

“Um, sure.” I said. “ Except your Frisbee’s kinda broken now.”

“But we brought this big flying disk thing too. It’s really cool.” She skipped off ahead.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” The boy said to me. “I mean you’re welcome to, but don’t feel obligated. She shouldn’t have asked you.”

“Oh, no.” I said. “I don’t care.”

“Cool.” He gave me a brace-face smile and ran after his little sister, the perfect big brother I couldn’t be.

“Okay,” the little girl said, holding up a canvas circle almost as big as she was. "I'll throw first." It caught the wind and landed at my feet.

“Throw it here.” The boy clapped his hands once. I tossed it and it sailed into his hand. The back and forth, back and forth had been going on for a while when a woman--pretty much the older, female version of the boy--came over to where we stood.

“Hey, who’s your friend guys?” She asked, referring to me.

“Oh, um—“ the boy cut off and turned to me. “I’m sorry; I never caught your name.”

“Shawn.” I mumbled, quickly turning to leave.

“Do you two know each other from school?”

I jammed my hands into my pockets. I was ready to turn and run, but as the boy began explaining, the little girl skipped over to me and looked up at me with blue eyes as big as dinner plates. “What’s your name?” She asked.

“Shawn.” I answered gruffly.

“I’m Grace.” She smiled.

My heart caught in my throat. That’s Cassie’s middle name. I wasn’t ready for my brain to wake up like that. Cassie, Cassie, Cassie. Cassidy Grace McKenzie

“I--I gotta go.” I said quickly, and darted in the other direction without another word.

But that little girl wouldn’t get out of my mind. As I wandered through the park the next two days, I kept my head down. While strolling the aisles of stores, and eating off the dollar menu in a corner table at Wendy’s I didn’t people watch anymore--there were too many brothers, too many deadbeats who chose things over children, too many little girls who probably sang everywhere they went. And when I went back to my truck at night, every barking dog, every horn in the distance, every pair of headlights that come too close sent deep chills up my spine. I slept fitfully.

She started to stalk me. Cassie was everywhere. Walking back to the gas station one night, I stepped on some gum and ended up with a bright flyer stuck to my shoe. I ripped it off--a fundraiser for Cassidy’s Place. In line at McDonald’s one night, the little girl standing in front of me was exactly Cassie’s height with the same dark waves. It could have been her from the back. I held my breath when she turned around--Her eyes were blue. It wasn’t her.

No matter how carefully I managed my money, the handful of washed Lincolns in my jeans could only go so far. I was surprised no one had grown suspicious of the red pick-up sitting in the same spot for five days and four nights. I found myself in line at the gas station cradling the last of my pocket change--A dollar and sixteen cents in dimes, nickels, and pennies. Just enough for a discounted Red Bull.

“Hey,” the guy in front of me said. “I’ve got some lottery tickets. Give me some numbers kid.”

“3, 15, 1,” I responded robotically. March 15, 2001 – Cassie’s birthday.

“Wow kid!” He said a moment later. “You’ve got some luck. You just made me 800 bucks richer. Thanks.” He pressed a pair of twenties into my hand. “Here you go; this is for helping me win.”

My last excuse was gone. I had gas money to get home on. I shut myself in the phone booth--I found something better to spend my pocket change on.

“Mom?” I said. “Mom, it’s Shawn.”

I recognize where I am now. That’s a rarity for me recently. I see the mall where I went with Cassie to make her first Build-A-Bear a few years ago. She made a pink bunny, the one I found her hugging the night I left.

In the distance, I see the restaurant where Dad took me for my tenth birthday – just the two of us. I can taste the pancakes in my mouth, but I don’t let myself wonder where he is.

I pass my school and try not to dread another year of summer school. I’m going to really try at it this year and not just scrape by. I think it’ll be different now. I have to pass senior year to graduate-- and I will graduate.

I pass the grocery store and my heart catches in my throat. I’m up to the longest and shortest five minutes of my life.

I pass Mark’s house. I grip the wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white to keep from driving off the road. I will never be able to look at that house anymore without thinking of that moment, without replaying every conversation with Cassie that night in my mind. I can hear it screaming at me. It’s mocking me. It’s calling out to me. It’s torturing me. No Cassie, I don’t want to deal with you tonight…how stupid is that... leave me alone… pathetic he lets a little kid control his life.

I should be glad I left when I did--the cops were called an hour later. I’d heard the sirens when I got on the highway. I bet they all got picked up. But what would’ve happened had I never gone? What would’ve happened had I stayed?

I shake it off. I’m at an intersection. I can turn left, leave all over again and never come back. I can turn left and let down my family. I can turn left and become my father. I can turn right and go home. I can turn right and start my life over. I could go straight if I really wanted to and just end it all by driving head-on into that tree. I press my foot to the gas.

I flick the turn signal and turn the wheel. I drive up my street, going the longest way possible on purpose. As I drive, I see younger versions of the kids at school, begging me to play baseball in the street. I see us running through the sprinklers in the middle of the summer, back when the biggest worry was how cold the water was and the biggest gossip was who took the last popsicle. We all miss those days.

I see two figures standing in my yard, waving at me. As I get closer, I recognize them as Mom and Cassie. Mom is crying. And all at once, I realize I am too. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I open my door.

Cassie slams into my lap. “Shawn,” she cries into my shoulder. I can’t believe I ever got tired of hearing her voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I missed you. It was all my fault, Shawn. I’m sorry.”

“Cassie.” I whisper. I press my lips to her temple, gently run my fingers through her hair. “This is not your fault. Don’t think that. It’s going to be okay now – I’m home.”

I’m home.