Slammed

other than you and Caulder," I say.
     
    He directs his eyes to the house that the three people just entered. "That's Erica. She's been married to her husband, Gus, for about twenty years I think. They have two daughters, both teenagers. The oldest one is who babysits Caulder sometimes.
     
    "The couple to the right of Caulder and I have been here the longest, Bob and Melinda. Their son just joined the military. They were great after my parents died. Melinda cooked for us every day for months. She still brings something over about once a week.
     
    "The house over there?" He points down the street. "He's the one renting your house to you. His name is Scott. He owns six of the houses on this street alone. He's a good guy, but his renters come and go a lot. Those are about the only people I know anymore."
     
    I look at all the houses along the street. They're all so similar and I can't help but try to imagine the differences of all the families inside the homes. I wonder if any of them are hiding secrets? If any of them are falling in love? Or out of love? Are they happy? Sad? Scared? Broke? Lonely? Do they appreciate what they have? Do Gus and Erica appreciate their health? Does Scott appreciate his supplemental rental income? Because every bit of it, every last bit of it is fleeting. Nothing is permanent. The only thing any of us have in common is the inevitable. We'll all eventually die.
     
    "There was this one girl," Will says. "She moved into a house on the street a while back. I still remember the moment I saw her pull up in the U-Haul. She was so confident in that thing. It was a hundred times bigger than her, yet she backed it right up without even asking for help. I watched as she put it in park and propped her leg up on the dash, like driving a U-Haul was something she did every day. Piece of cake.
     
    "I had to leave for work but Caulder had already run across the street. He was imaginary sword fighting with the little boy that had been in the U-Haul. I was just going to yell at him to come get in the car, but there was something about that girl. I just had to meet her. I walked across the street but she never even noticed me. She was watching her brother play with Caulder with this distant look on her face.
     
    "I stood beside the U-Haul and I just watched her. I stared at her while she looked on with the saddest look in her eyes. I wanted to know what she was thinking about, what was going on in her head. What had made her so sad? I wanted to hug her so bad. When she finally got out of the U-Haul and I introduced myself to her, it took all I had to let go of her hand. I wanted to hold onto it forever. I wanted to let her know that she wasn't alone. Whatever burden it was that she was carrying around, I wanted to carry it for her."
     
    I lean my head on his shoulder and he puts his arm around me.
     
    "I wish I could, Lake. I wish I could take it all away. Unfortunately, that's not how it works. It doesn't just go away. That's what your mom is trying to tell you. She needs you to accept it, and she needs for Kel to know, too. You need to give that to her."
     
    "I know, Will. I just can't. Not yet. I'm not ready to deal with it yet."
     
    He pulls me to him and hugs me.
     
    "You'll never be ready for it, Lake. No one ever is."
     
    He lets go of me and walks away. And he's right again, but I don't care this time.
     
    ***
     
    "Lake? Can I come in?" Mom says from outside the bedroom door.
     
    "It's open," I say.
     
    She walks in. She's got her scrubs on now. She sits on the bed next to me as I'm writing in my notebook.
     
    "What are you writing?" she asks.
     
    "A poem."
     
    "For school?"
     
    "No, for me."
     
    "I didn't know you wrote poetry," she says as she tries to peek over my shoulder at it.
     
    "I don't, really. If we read our poetry at Club N9NE we're exempt from the final. I'm thinking about doing one, but I don't know. The thought of getting up there in front of all those people makes me nervous."
     
    "Push your boundaries, Lake. That's what they're there for."
     
    I flip the poem upside down and sit up. "So what's up?"
     
    She smiles at me and reaches to my face and tucks my hair behind my ear.
     
    "Not much," she says. "I just had a few minutes before I had to leave for work. I wanted to let you know that it's my last night. I'm not working anymore after tonight."
     
    I break our stare and lean forward and grab my pen. I put the cap back on it and close my notebook, tucking both