SHARDS I

“Gray?!” Laura exclaimed on sighting the occupier of the driver’s seat. Her surprised look had gone from shocked, to perplexed, quick to anger, and then to relieve. At least, she was getting a ride home, and safety, she couldn’t care less what he was doing there. She was breathless from the running, and exhausted. The door opened for Laura, and hiding the awe and amusement on her face, she slid into the comfiness of the leather seat. She was immediately engulfed into the fresh scent of cologne mixed with air freshener.

There was silence between she and the boy, and she wasn’t willing to break it, or question him, or even talk to him.

Eminem's voice played in the background as the car turned and headed back in the direction it had come from. Laura gazed out the window, hoping to spot somebody, but there wasn't a soul in sight. She sank into her seat, face-palming herself and letting out a soft sigh of relief. Perhaps she had become paranoid from watching too much news about the serial killer. She may not have liked her life, but that didn't mean she wanted to die. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax in silence, feeling the tension in the air and sensing the boy's desire to speak to her. She could even feel his gaze on the side of her head. If she were to start the conversation, she would unleash nothing but anger, so she waited for him to speak.

Thirty seconds passed, and finally, the boy spoke. “Laura, I’m sorry.” She said nothing. He continued, relentless. Laura was trying not to listen to him speak but that was near impossible. She focused on the background sound of Eminem’s voice. “Sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. For standing you up without an explanation. I had no choice.”

Laura tried to keep her composure cool when she spoke. Her fists were clenched by the sides, and her knuckles were whitened from trying to suppress the anger. “How did you find me?” She asked, in a silent voice. Her eyes remained closed still. “Don’t tell me you’ve been spying on me.”

The boy remained silent.

Laura's eyes flew open as she stirred to look at him, gritting her teeth. "Have you been keeping tabs on me, Grayson?"

The young man shook his head in the negative. "I was at your house a while ago. Your mom was worried sick that you weren’t home yet. She gave me directions to your work and said she had been trying her best to reach your phone. It’s not..." He spared her a glance and his voice caught in his throat. Laura was looking at him, with those eyes, and his heart pounded a pace faster in his chest. He looked away and continued his sentence. "It’s not safe to still be out this late at night."

“It’s just a little past ten.”

“Few minutes to eleven.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Have you been watching the news?”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“It’s not safe still.”

“You’re not my dad, Grayson!” Laura yelled, letting down her defense. He had pushed her beyond the limit she could hold in, and he was going to get it now. “You don’t care about me! If you did, you wouldn’t have left at that point I needed you the most. I was fifteen, Gray! Fifteen! I had to have an abortion at fifteen! On my own! Because you weren’t there. You stood me up! Don’t pretend to care now! That’s what you rich people do, pretend to care so you could use people and then dump them when you’ve gotten what you want. I was naive, and you used me!”

Grayson didn’t seem furious at her outburst; he knew he deserved more. In contrast to her screaming, shaky voice, his was calm when he spoke. “I didn’t mean to, Laura.”

“And that changes absolutely nothing.” Laura huffed and then sat in silence, her chest rising and falling heavily as the voice of Eminem filled the car once again. She struggled to focus on the music, trying to push away the memories that were haunting her. Despite her mixed emotions of anger and sadness, she couldn't bring herself to hate the young man sitting next to her. After waiting for two long years to see him again, she was overwhelmed with conflicting feelings. She rubbed her face and took a deep breath, feeling a strong dislike for wealthy people. She had once followed his life on social media, feeling forgotten and eventually deciding to block him from all her accounts. Now, with him so close, she felt a wave of relief and the urge to cry. She wanted to both hit him and seek comfort in his arms, longing for his understanding that she couldn't find elsewhere. In just a short time, she had relied on him for emotional support, and when he left, it felt like her whole world had collapsed.

“Did you get my gift?”

Laura’s breathing was harsh. “I set it on fire the moment I saw your name attached to it.”

“I sent you some money, and an invite to my birthday party.”

“And I wasn’t interested in being in attendance.” She didn’t add the part where she’d donated his money to the home for the disabled downtown and kept only a little to herself. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“You should have come; I had a whole apology thing planned out.”

“That still wouldn’t have changed nothing.”

“I’m sorry, Laura. I really am.”

“Sorry can’t... I can’t...” a strangled whisper, her chest and throat burned with the urge to cry. “I can’t believe you just left.”

Laura first met Grayson Cortez when she was fifteen years old at the home for the disabled where she volunteered. Instead of engaging in typical teenage activities, she chose to dedicate her time to working at two organizations: the home for the disabled and the orphanage. Grayson, who was sixteen at the time, made a generous donation of clothes, essential items, and a large sum of money to the orphanage. Later, he also joined Laura in volunteering at both the orphanage and the home for the disabled during his summer break. Despite his family's tradition of donating to these organizations, Gray had never personally participated until then.

That year, he was glad he did. Laura seemed like a simple girl at first, and he tried his very best to come across to her as a simple boy who came to visit his godfather downtown, hiding his true identity. Things had gotten much more interesting, and they had decided to explore. Exploring had gone overboard, and Laura had gotten pregnant. Panicking, cause no one’s ever been for him, and he couldn’t think of fathering anyone at that time of his life, he left immediately after summer without informing her. He needed a reevaluation of his life, and now that he was way older, eighteen now, he could decide what he wanted, who he wanted or what country he wanted to be at any time in his life.

He’s gained some control, not totally, but a little over his life now. Greg and Gabriel, his older brothers, were more off his back. It was not so easy, having brothers old enough to be your father, with the actual parents dead since he was twelve.

Grayson took a bend into another street. He still remembered the way to her house after two years of not being at Warmaukey. He remained silent, all through the rest of the ride, until he spotted her small house at the end of the street. It looked just about comfy, not a lot, not a kind a place he would even live but just right. The headlights were flashing against a small woman standing on the front porch. She looked pale from the cold, and sick. Her arms were wrapped against her frail, willowy figure, and her nimble fingers trembled, even in her cashmere sweater. Her dark brown hair were thrown into a rough bun, and few strands dangled over her neck and face. Immediately the woman spotted the oncoming car, she began trudging down the stairs, barefoot even. There was a deep look of worry sketched over her face, and it looked like she had been sobbing silently. She had in fact been in the same position when Grayson arrived at the house earlier on, demanding to see her teenage daughter. The shocked look she had on would be engraved in his head for a very long time, was Laura not used to getting any visitors?

On sighting her mother, Laura’s angered look dissolved into that of pity and solemn. Her clenched fist even unclenched, and she grabbed the straps of her backpack and fiddled with it. Grayson knew she was going to leave, and might not have the opportunity to have a conversation with her anytime soon. So when the car came to a halt, he was swift to place a hand over her shoulder. “Please, just one chance to prove to you that I’m truly sorry.” He said, in all genuinity. “I’m not leaving town until you let me.”

Laura said nothing. Instead, she continued to stare at him. Grayson Cortez was a lovely sight to behold. He was hands down the most good looking teenage boy she’d had the oppurtunity to be in a close proximity with. He had copper dark hair, cropped atop his forehead and close to the two perfectly plucked brows he had. His hair had a silky black sheen to it underneath the car light. From his jaw to his nose, and his eyes, he was perfectly crafted. His eyes were beautiful. They were grey-ish-like, and he had a stare that almost seemed penetrating all the time. As he looked at Laura, expecting a respond, she couldn’t deny he looked way more better than he had been the last summer she saw him. His skin had a glowing hue, olive toned, and his lips were peachy and plump. His lower lip was sucked gently in between his teeth, and his eyes, they looked like they were pleading with her. He had on a shirt—rolled up at the sleeves—and a knee length khaki pants, Laura observed, in that weather?

Though, she lied to herself, that she wasn’t moved by his looks. She was greatly. Shrugging his hand off her shoulder, she opened the door, without giving any response to him and stepped out of the car. By the stairs leading up to the house, on the Victorian porch, her mother awaited. “Is that your boyfriend?” She sounded cold, with a little bit of amusement and surprise seeping out her words. “You should invite him in for some tea. It’s too cold out.”

Without a word in response, Laura glided past her mother and into the house. The door gave in with a loud whine and a bang at the force at which she had opened and closed it. Belle’s shoulders drooped in disappointment at her daughter’s indirect rejection of her welcoming. She raised her nimble finger at the young man in the car and waved appreciatively. Her small voice called out. “Thank you for bringing her home safely!”

In response, Grayson gave back a stiff wave and a curt nod, and then proceeded to continue his journey back home. This Laura definitely wasn’t the same as two years ago. As he drove back to his godfather’s house, he wondered if she still volunteered at the orphanage home like she used to. She liked kids, he remembered, but hadn’t kept his own. Maybe it was a little selfish of him, but he wished now that she hadn’t gone through with the abortion.