Chapter 18
The heavy rains of autumn continued to fall,
turning the ground into thick mud,
and stripping the beautiful trees of their bright leaves,
leaving them completely bare,
and looking terribly skeletal against the gray sky.
I could not stop thinking about the lumber yard,
and the pathetic image of the small tent,
getting battered by the relentless,
and freezing winds.
One Tuesday afternoon,
while Diane was out buying baking supplies,
I found myself grabbing my heavy wool coat,
and my car keys,
driven by a morbid,
and completely irrational impulse.
I drove out of the secure suburbs,
heading toward the industrial side of the town,
where the abandoned factories,
and the old train tracks lay rusting in the rain.
I parked my expensive car a few blocks away,
pulling my collar up against the biting cold,
and I walked slowly toward the wooded area,
my expensive shoes sinking into the deep mud.
I stayed hidden behind a large oak tree,
peering through the thick,
and wet brush,
until I spotted a cluster of three small tents,
tucked away under a bridge overpass.
One of the tents was a faded green color,
patched with silver duct tape,
and looking entirely incapable of keeping out the cold.
A small fire burned weakly in a metal barrel,
and a figure sat on a plastic bucket beside it,
huddled deeply inside a cheap,
and oversized jacket.
I recognized the sharp profile instantly,
despite the thick,
and unkempt beard that now covered his face.
It was Aaron.
He was holding a small tin can of beans,
eating them cold with a plastic spoon,
his hands shaking visibly in the freezing wind.
He looked up at the gray sky for a moment,
his expression one of absolute,
and utter defeat,
and I felt a sudden,
and terrifying crack form in the thick ice,
that surrounded my hardened heart.
This was the boy I had taught to ride a bicycle,
the boy I had carried on my shoulders at the parade,
reduced to a shivering,
and starving ghost,
living in the dirt like a wild animal.
I took a slight step forward,
an instinctual urge to help him pulling at my legs,
but I stopped myself abruptly,
remembering the forged bank documents,
and the terrified look on Diane's face,
when we were evicted from our family home.
He is a dangerous criminal,
I whispered to myself in the cold rain,
he is entirely toxic,
and he will destroy us again if I let him in.
I forced myself to turn around,
walking away from the miserable camp,
my heart feeling as heavy as a lead weight,
and my soul feeling completely stained,
with dark,
and unforgivable guilt.
I drove back to my warm,
and perfectly safe house,
stripping off my muddy shoes in the garage,
and washing the dirt from my cold hands,
with harsh,
and scalding hot water.
Diane greeted me with a warm hug,
smelling of sweet cinnamon,
and fresh baked bread,
and I held her tightly against my chest,
burying my face in her soft hair,
trying to erase the terrible image of the green tent,
from my fractured mind.
I told her I had gone for a long drive,
to clear my head from the business stress,
and she kissed my cheek gently,
May you like
believing my simple lie,
without a single shadow of doubt.
