Things We Lost - 4. Chapter 4

She had to decide if helping me was worth the risk. Whatever loyalty she felt toward me or whatever she felt she owed me would be weighed against the risk to her and her family. So why had I told her everything? After all, she'd likely have helped me straight out with no details. So why was I...handing her information that could hurt my chances of getting help?

Bringing my gaze up to meet hers, I found her studying me. I grew nervous.

“So...are you going to help me?”

She frowned. “Of course I am. I'm just stunned at how out of control things are for you. How can you even be so calm with all that happening?”

I shrugged. “Not much I can do about it, is there? It is what it is, and I have to deal.”

She shook her head. “I'm not sure I could handle it nearly as well as you do. Aren't you scared?”

“I was. I'm pretty calm now. I think Buster and his cronies would stand out in this end of town.”

Piper grinned, “My dad would say they'd stick out like a turd in a punch bowl.”

“Punch bowl?”

“Yeah, you know—thing you fill with punch at parties and try to spike with alcohol before the parents catch you?”

I gave her a blank look.

“Okay, they're probably not in your mystery novels. Anyway, I think I have this worked out, at least short term.” She paused and fixed her gaze on me, waiting to see if I'd protest, perhaps. When I remained silent she gave a nearly imperceptible nod and continued, “So, Tris has friends over all the time. Some we see regularly, some are just once in a while. These days, it's mostly Brandon. My point is, my parents won't think too much of it.”

“Two problems.”

She raised an eyebrow and waited.

“First, will Tris—who is that, by the way?”

“My brother, Tristan Malone.”

“Okay. Will he cooperate?”

Her face softened and she replied, “Ehren, my whole family knows you helped me. As much as I'd like to drown him sometimes, he's a good brother. I guarantee he'll go along with it. What's the other problem?”

“Your parents,” I said, accepting her explanation of Tris with a curt nod. “They will ask questions—where I go to school, where my parents work, if I have a dog.”

“Okay. We'll keep it simple and Tris and I will run interference. My folks won't grill you, exactly, it's not their style. They like to do things in a kind of...organic way. They like to get to know you by hanging around you instead of asking a bunch of awkward questions.”

I nodded slowly, not sure how or if I should accept that. As I turned it over in my head, I decided that if the worst came to pass and CPS or the police were called, I could always run. Where to, I didn't know. I was sure other towns had cans in need of picking up.

“Okay.”

“Good. I'm going to put your stuff in the dryer and, hey...while you're here you have to blend in. Makes sense, right?”

I nodded.

“Okay, so...one pair of pants, max, and one shirt—two at most—at a time. Okay?”

I nodded and simultaneously felt a pang of worry. All the clothes I had left—in fact all my possessions amounted to what was currently in the washer, out of my sight.

“All right. So I'll hit the dryer and then I better talk to Tris—after all, you're wearing his clothes so...”

Heat seeped into my cheeks and I realized that her brother was the one whose scent was imbued into the clothes I liked so much—the very ones I was wearing. I decided that fact was likely better kept to myself.

“I, uh, can handle the dryer. I've used the ones at a laundromat before.”

“Great. Meet me outside after you get done then, okay?”

“Sure.” I nodded.

I took my time at the dryer. I knew that if someone had to explain to me why someone else was wearing my clothes, it might take a few minutes for me to accept that. The clothes he'd outgrown were likely one thing, but the ones I had on—that he'd likely worn that day—were another. In fact, it had the potential to be very awkward. What if he was a capricious sort and decided that's a good reason not to help me? I growled as I stuffed my clothes in the dryer; I hated needing the help of others. I hated being in need.

Once I felt I could dawdle no longer, I made my way back outside and scanned the area for Piper. She was standing by the desk where children were being checked out for the day and I walked over to her. Glancing up as I approached she nodded and then returned to her paperwork. After a final detail was arranged, Piper turned and waved me to follow her.

“We're just putting things away. We have to hang around long enough for your clothes to dry, so you want to pitch in?”

“Sure. What do you want me to do?”

We spent some time picking up toys and playground equipment and returning them to a large shed that housed racks full of balls and cones—all sorts of items used for keeping the kids occupied. As we worked, some of the other green shirts brought a few items in from their own groups which were largely gone now.

“Hey, fucking thief!” A hand was on my shoulder and spun me around. Out of reflex, I pushed my attacker away but before it could escalate or I could run, Piper was between us.

“Brandon! Cut it out, you dick!”

Ignoring her, Brandon looked over his shoulder and called out, “Tris! Some loser has your stuff on! He's trying to steal it!”

At the mention of Tris's name, I relaxed a tiny bit. Piper had, in theory, spoken to him and he should be okay with the situation. Brandon turned his face back around toward me, and he had a smug look on his face. I realized that this was the kid I saw earlier on the bike who seemed so arrogant. I had dubbed him 'new guy' before. Even though I knew his name was Brandon, now, I was tempted to simply call him asshole. Then, Tris joined the group.

He was the cool kid. Shit.

He smiled easily at me and looked me up and down. “Looks good. I'm Tristan, call me Tris.”

“Ehren,” I replied cautiously. Up close, the bastard confirmed everything I'd thought of from afar—his jeans weren't tight like Brandon's, they simply fit stupidly well. Where Brandon's shirt hung off his thin, angular frame Tristan's fit him extremely well. He wasn't buff, but he had enough of a body to make you think he was a jock. His sneakers were brightly colored and attracted at least as much attention as his sparkling smile. He lifted his hat, revealing the thick dark blond hair, and reseated it.

My stomach tightened and, simultaneously, felt lighter than air. I wet my lips and willed my heart to settle back into a regular rhythm instead of this erratic conga it had taken on. Unconsciously, I wiped my hands on my pants.

Brandon seemed confused that Tris wasn't reacting badly to me wearing his clothes and he switched tacks. “Nice hair,” he sneered. “You look old.”

“So? You look stupid,” I snapped.

Tris and Piper burst out laughing. Brandon scowled and replied, “Whatever.”

“I love his hair,” Piper said, tousling it. I put a hand up to brush it back down—it wanted to fly away, being so clean. “I was thinking about getting my hair the same color—I think they call it ash blond.”

“I do too. It's cool.” Tris said.

“Well, if you don't care about him taking your clothes then I don't. I'll just leave you with your new boyfriend since Melody and I have a date tonight.” Brandon stiffened up and looked briefly at Tris, who merely shrugged at him and a small smile crossed his face.

“Have fun. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Later,” Brandon replied and they extended their fists and bumped knuckles.

I felt completely out of control between Brandon's verbally aggressive nature and Tristan's laid back attitude. I badly wanted to beat Brandon into a new attitude but, I reminded myself, I was trying to lie low. I couldn't help but reassess my initial summation of Tris, as well. As I did so, I helped to organize the last few things and then Piper locked the shed with a padlock. Shortly after, we collected my things from the dryer, but Tris just told me to wear his things home.

I felt conflicted about that. Firstly, I kind of wanted to wear the new-to-me clothes, but they smelled less like they had before and so I was content to keep wearing Tris's things. However, my attitude about not liking Mr. Perfect was making me want to rebel against his suggestion, even though I was trying to reassess who he was. I guess first impressions mean something to me; you learned to trust your instincts on the street. I deliberated quickly: after all, it wouldn't cost us much time for me to change, would it? The poisonous thoughts about I disliking everything Tris had appeared to represent were complicating my reasoning—that and the easy smile he directed at me. I growled to myself, not liking that I was questioning my judgment...and, yet, I was loving the way his clothes smelled. And the way he looked.

I hated him more. But I decided to keep his clothes on.

We took a short ride in an old car, Piper's, and they talked a little about some of the escapades of the kids in their charge that day. I sat in the back and listened, stewing about my conflicted emotions and frustrating myself over it all. To make matters worse, I snuggled the hoodie around myself and felt comforted by the scent—his scent.

We exited the car in front of a nice looking, well-kept home. Piper had described it as a cape, but that meant nothing to me. Entering the home behind the siblings, I felt completely out of place. Awkward doesn't begin to cover it. I was used to buildings that were condemned, if I were lucky enough to get a building. My parents had lived in...well, it wasn't this.

The wood floors glowed, as did the woodwork on the stairs and trim. A television played in a room with overstuffed furniture, which is where we found their parents. They were both dressed nicely, but not like they would be in an office or something. Their mom was an older version of Piper—or perhaps a vision of what Piper could be, if she tried.

Introductions were made.

“Mom, Dad, this is my friend,Ehren,” Tris said easily. “He was hanging out at the rec today, slipped in the mud so he had to borrow some of my stuff. I invited him for dinner—is that cool?”

“Sure,” his dad said. “Always room for one more. Nice to meet you, Ehren.” He stood and extended his hand, which I took awkwardly, and shook. “Friday is leftover night, Ehren, so you'll have a choice of food tonight.”

“When's dinner?” Tris asked as he headed for the stairs.

“About thirty minutes,” his mother replied. “You can set the table, Tris.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice echoing from the hallway upstairs.

Piper gave me a quick tour of the house and then we were back downstairs and taking seats at the table. One of the first things I'd learned from reading detective books was to observe people and situations, especially if you were unfamiliar with them. I didn't want to tell Piper I'd never sat down to dinner with anyone and didn't know how to act, so I simply observed the others before making a move myself. Chatter was lively as both parents asked their kids how their day went and contributed things that had happened at their own jobs.

I was relieved to find that no pressure was put on me: no questions about my family, no questions about what I thought. I was simply allowed to be there, and I grew to trust Piper more as it was exactly what she'd said.

“So Tris, where'd you find this quiet guy, huh?” Mr. Malone asked.

“Grindr,” he replied promptly. He and Piper started to laugh, but I simply looked confused.

“Ehren, I love your hair color. Is it natural?” his mother broke in.

“Yes,” I replied, after a moments hesitation.

“Piper, don't let him waste money on a haircut. You should take him to see May.” Mrs. Malone said, looking at Piper.

“Oh!” Piper exclaimed and turned to me. “Yeah, I bet May would love to trim your hair. Do you want to?”

I touched my hair self-consciously. “Do you think I should?”

“I think a little trim would be a good idea. Some of your split ends and stuff. Tris?”

“Huh?”

“What do you think? Should Ehren let May trim his hair?”

Tristan looked at me and I flushed. A smile crossed his face and he said, “Yeah. May would clean him up nice.”

Temperature rose in my face and felt like it was traveling down my neck and chest. “Okay then,” I said, looking at Piper.

“Cool,” she said with a smile. “I'll call her after dinner.”

“You guys staying close to home tonight?” their father asked as he returned to his plate.

“Yeah,” Tris said, glancing at me. “I was thinking of just watching Netflix and chilling.” He jumped suddenly and reached under the table, but his movement was at odds with his laughter.

“Actually,” Piper said, spearing her brother with a look, “I thought I'd hang out and watch TV, too.”

Mrs. Malone looked back and forth between her kids and then looked at me. “Ehren, honey, are they fighting over you?”

“W-what?” I asked weakly and in confusion.

“Mom, is it cool if Ehren stays over? We're going to throw his clothes in the wash so he'll be here for a while anyway.”

The elder Malones looked at each other and shared a look before his mother replied. “Sure. I guess we'll be seeing a lot of you, Ehren. Is that right?”

Before I could answer, Tris cut in with a smug, “Yep!”

I was so confused.

After dinner Piper pulled me aside. “I have to run over to May's—boyfriend crisis,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I also want to talk to her about cutting your hair. Are you sure you're okay with a haircut?”

“Uh, I don't mind getting it cut, but...I can't really pay for it right now. Maybe another time?”

“Oh, no, sweetie,” she said and smiled at me. “You misunderstood: May wants to cut hair for a living, so she does it just for the practice.” She lowered her voice and leaned in toward me, “Don't worry, she's good.”

I nodded slowly, but then voiced another concern. “So, um, you're leaving?” I hated that I was feeling unsure about her leaving me here. I was getting so sick of feeling uncomfortable and awkward and needy. What was wrong with me? I could run anytime I wanted. Right?

“Just for a little while. Don't worry, though, Tris will be here with you.” Piper paused and tilted her head. “Is that okay? Would you rather come with me?”

I flushed. “No. I can take care of myself.”

A smile pulled up at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, I know you can. But, you know, it's okay to let us take care of you a bit. Okay?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, okay. If it makes you happy.”

She laughed at me. What the hell?

“Be back soon,” she said and ruffled my hair. What the hell is it with touching my hair? Then she grabbed her keys and purse and was out the door. I felt a little lost for a moment—their parents were still at the dinner table and talking over coffee. Tris had disappeared upstairs to shower and so I took a seat in the living room on a very comfortable couch. I looked around the room, curious about people that lived so differently than I did. Family pictures were on the walls and I crossed the room to look at them—Piper and Tristan smiled out of many of them. Others were more contrived with the entire family posing. I liked the images better when they were more natural—caught in a candid moment. One image was of Tris and two other boys in matching sports uniforms. Red shorts and tight long sleeved white shirts with a number in the center of their chests. Tris was wearing colorful light blue sneakers, and another had garish neon cleats. The third was in sandals, so whatever event this picture was from had to have been over.

“That was a good day,” Tris said. I jumped and turned to find him looking at the picture. Failing to note, or at least comment, on startling me he continued, “Summer workout for soccer. Gets so hot around here that we were using special tops to wick away sweat,” he said and turned his gaze to me, “that was last year.”

Recovered from my start, I glanced back at the image. “What made it a good day?”

“Those guys—Mark and Steve—they were still my friends.”

I was hit with confusion and, unexpectedly, sympathy. I glanced at Tris's face, whose eyes were still on the image...but his face showed an unmistakable longing. I suddenly felt guilty—another emotion I was not really well acquainted with—about my assumptions about Tristan and my inability to reassess him. He'd been nothing but kind and now, I was seeing that he'd been hurt. Maybe he was a cool kid, but then maybe he'd earned it, too.

“I'm sorry.”

He dragged his gaze from the picture and smiled. “It's okay. It hurt and I'm over it. Mostly. Hey, um,” he glanced to make sure his parents weren't approaching and pitched his voice low. “We have to fake that you don't have clothes to wear. How about we put your stuff in the wash for, you know, appearance. If you want you can shower and I'll loan you a tee and some shorts or sweats to sleep in. We can go play some video games or something until Piper gets back.”

“I showered at the rec center,” I replied. “Do I stink?”

“Uh, no,” he said, laughing softly. “I just prefer showering at home. I thought...no big deal. Shall we get your stuff in the wash before my folks realize they are clean and not muddy?”

I nodded and followed him down to the basement. As we put the clothes in the washer, a thought occurred to me. “Tris? Won't your folks recognize these clothes as yours?”

“Hmm,” he said, thinking. “Maybe, maybe not. I like clothes and spend most of my paychecks on them.”

“Uh, so you have...a lot of clothes?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, “I like different things. I don't have, like, a walk-in closet of clothes or anything. I just...I don't know, I like clothes.”

I felt as though he were defending himself and, thinking of his emotion about the picture we'd been looking at a few minutes before, I felt the need to...fix the situation.

“You, um, have good taste.”

He perked up and smiled. “You think so?”

“Yeah. These are some of the nicest clothes I've ever had.”

“Really? These?” he said, starting the machine. “I get a lot of stuff from thrift stores—drives my mom nuts!”

“Why?”

“She has a thing about wearing clothes or jewelry that other people have worn. But, it's fun to get new stuff and not have to spend a ton. I mean, I like the things Mom gets for me, too,” he said, beckoning me to follow him. “But it's fun picking things out myself.”

“Your clothes seem to fit really well,” I blurted and then, belatedly, added, “...for being used.”

“You just have to take the time to try stuff on,” he replied, closing the basement door behind us and heading upstairs to his room. “Most guys don't like to take the time when they're shopping. You'd be surprised at some of the nice brands and stuff that show up at the thrift store—stuff my mom won't buy because I'll grow out of it too fast, you know?”

“Oh. Yeah, I see.” I didn't, really, but that didn't matter all that much. As far as I was concerned, clothes were something you just put on. Protection from the weather, not really a style thing—but then he and I were living in two different worlds, that was for sure. As I followed him, I realized he'd gotten changed after his shower—and the smell that I found so comforting on his clothes was hitting me full force as I followed in his wake.

He picked a tee shirt from a drawer and then turned to face me. “Do you sleep in shorts or sweats or what?”

I sat on his bed. “On the street you wear all your clothes at once.”

“To sleep in?”

“All the time.”

“But, why? Isn't that uncomfortable?”

“So? You don't want someone to steal your clothes, right? Can't steal them if you're wearing them.”

He nodded slowly in understanding. “So, what do you want to do here, then?”

I tilted my head in thought. “Piper said I needed to fit in and part of that would be how I dress. Since I don't know when I might be without one of you two, you'll have to tell me.”

He sat down next to me and handed me the shirt. As I accepted it he said, “For me, it's about comfort. When it's warm, like now, I like to wear shorts. When it's cool, I wear sweats. When it's winter, I wear thermals and use an electric blanket!”

I returned his smile. “I guess it's shorts, then.”

“The ones you have on okay or you want something else?”

“These are fine. I feel little weird, not having pants on.”

“Or, you know, several pairs of pants.” Tris was smiling at me and I chuckled.

“Yeah, that says it all. This is...all of it...very strange for me.”

“I can only imagine.” He shook his head, “What you did for my sister...you gotta know, we'll do anything we can.”

I nodded.

“No, really. Anything you need, anything that doesn't make sense, all you have to do is ask.” He paused and glanced away. One hand began to pick at the hem of his shorts and he said, in a distracted tone, “My sister, we fight like any other siblings. But when I needed my family, she was there for me. She still is. I've learned to appreciate a lot more who people are on the inside.”

“I can relate,” I said. He glanced at me, his eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “You have to learn to be a good judge of character, on the street. If you get fooled by nice clothes or flashy jewelry, it could have major consequences.”

He studied me for a moment, almost as if he were sizing me up. Then, Tris patted me awkwardly on the shoulder and beckoned me to follow him. Crossing through the upstairs, we ended up in a small apartment, complete with bathroom and sink. A small couch, chair and TV were set up with other things plugged into the TV.

Tris set about turning things on and I pulled the hoodie off and put the tee shirt on. I felt uncomfortably exposed with just the tee, and pulled the hoodie back into place. Tris handed me a controller, explained how to play, and we spent about an hour or so playing video games. I was, alternatively, exhilarated and annoyed with the games. One minute I seemed to be doing well and was having great fun, and in the next I was dead.

“See that bar up there over your name? That's your health. Keep an eye on it,” Tris advised.

By the time Piper showed up, I was so engrossed that I'd completely forgotten she was gone and that I had been, initially, uncomfortable left alone with Tristan.

“Tris, want to set up Netflix and I'll get some snacks? Ehr, you like popcorn?”

I looked away from the game, paused by Tris, and said, “I don't know. I've had chips and stuff.”

“Okay, I'll be back.”

Turning back I saw that game was gone. “Hey! What happened to the game?”

“Setting up Netflix, Ehr. Or did you not have enough of me kicking your ass?” he teased.

“I got you plenty of times!” I retorted, handing him the controller.

“Lucky shots!” he said, laughing. As a loading screen appeared on the TV, Tris walked to the small couch and pulled the seat cushions off, then pulled up the inner workings of the couch to reveal a bed. He left the room for a moment and then returned with two light blankets and tossed them on the bed.

“Okay,” Piper said. “I have popcorn, some drinks and a bag of M&M's.” She distributed the drinks and Tris and I sat back on the bed with our legs out and the popcorn bowl between us. Piper scrolled through a list of titles and said in a sly voice, “So, Ehr...how about a little Poirot?”

“Poirot?” Tris asked.

“Detective,” I replied. “They have a movie?”

“Yep. A series, actually. I started to watch some, just 'cause you mentioned him.” So saying, she selected the Poirot icon and we settled in to watch a mystery. It was kind of cool to see it, to hear him speak instead of whatever I'd imagined his accent to be—but the books were better. Tris complained about it, a little, but in good humor. I think he was enjoying picking on me. After the episode ended, he asked if I was a Sherlock Holmes fan. When I said I was, he put on a BBC version of Sherlock that was a very interesting interpretation.

Of course, I'd never tell Tris that, just to get even with his remarks on Poirot.

By the end of the episode, Piper stood and walked around to turn things off. Beside me, Tris was breathing gently, the rise and fall of his chest steady and even as he slept.

“You want a sleeping bag or are you okay sleeping there?” Piper whispered.

“I'm good,” I replied. “Um...thanks, Piper. For everything.”

She smiled an odd smile. “Anytime, Ehr.” Then, stranger still, she bent down and kissed my forehead and ruffled my hair before leaving the room and hitting the light.

I lay back, tired, but my mind was racing. My thoughts were jumbled; there were feelings about being independent and berating myself for needing help competing with feeling safe and...liked. It was kind of weird, since I hadn't had much in the way of friends; just people you sort of knew, like Smokey. Shit, I hadn't even ever learned Smokey's real name. I was filled with a sense of loss at this realization and felt a heaviness settle on me.

Tris moaned in his sleep and shifted. I got up slowly and made my way to the bathroom. After relieving myself I splashed my face with water and looked at myself in the mirror. The life the Malone's have—could I have that? Could I find a way to be something more?

I dried my face and resolved to have the haircut the next day—clean, my hair looked like a puff ball. I padded back to the bed and climbed in, happy with the comfort of having a mattress to sleep on. Would it be so bad if I wanted a mattress to lie on and a pillow under my head? Was that reaching too high? Tris and Piper seemed not to think twice about sharing this with me so...maybe?