Slow Progress

The drive to Aunt Rosa's house took two hours, most of it through countryside blanketed in spring green. Kyle sat in the passenger seat, his arms crossed and his chin resting on his knuckles. His mother, Nora Carter, hummed softly to the radio, fingers tapping the wheel in rhythm.

Kyle didn't ask why they had to go. He already knew.

Rosa Miller was the last sibling Nora had left who still lived nearby. The others had drifted—by choice. Since Kyle's dad died, Nora had clung more tightly to what remained of her blood family. Even when they were cruel.

"Remember to be polite," she said suddenly, her voice tense despite the smile. "You know how your cousins can be. Just let it roll off you, alright?"

Kyle glanced at her. "I know. You love them."

"I do," she said softly. "Even if they don't always make it easy."

They drove in silence after that. The old Miller house stood on a hill just outside Bellfield, a two-story home with fading blue shutters and a squeaky screen door. It looked exactly as Kyle remembered: fixed in time, stubborn and weathered.

Rosa was already on the porch when they pulled up, arms crossed, lips pinched.

Nora forced a smile as they stepped out. "Rosa."

"You're late," Rosa said, hugging her without warmth. "I told you to be here by noon."

Nora let it slide, just like always. "Traffic."

Kyle stood a moment, then stepped forward with a nod. "Hi, Aunt Rosa."

She gave him a look like she was inspecting spoiled fruit. "You've grown taller. Still pale as ever though. You look just like your father."

Kyle didn't flinch. "Thanks. Nice to see you too."

Her lips thinned. "Hmm."

Inside, the house smelled of lemon cleaner and fried onions. Kyle's cousins, Derrick and Troy, were slouched on the couch playing a shooter game, fingers jabbing at controllers like it was a matter of life and death.

They didn't look up until Kyle entered.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigy," Troy muttered, not pausing his game. "Didn't think you'd crawl out of your nerd cave."

"Mom dragged me," Kyle said with a polite smile, settling in a chair.

Derrick snorted. "Still dressing like you shop at the clearance bin, huh?"

"Comfort is underrated," Kyle replied.

"Translation: I have no taste."

Kyle didn't bite. He sat quietly, watching the screen, even as they mocked him for how he crossed his legs or how quietly he spoke. It didn't bother him—not really. He saw through it now. Anger was just a game they were used to playing. Cruelty was comfort food in this house.

His mom was in the kitchen with Rosa. Kyle could hear them clearly.

"I still don't understand why you stayed with him," Rosa was saying, loud and sharp. "We warned you, Nora. From the very start, we told you Gerald was no good."

"I know what you said," Nora replied, voice strained. "But I loved him."

"He left you with a son and a heap of debt."

"He left me with Kyle."

There was a silence then, deep and awkward.

Kyle blinked slowly. He could've tuned it out—he wanted to—but some part of him needed to hear it. To understand why his mother still tried.

Part II: Polite Armor

Lunch was served with tight smiles and half-hearted conversation. Nora complimented the roast; Rosa ignored it. Derrick whispered something to Troy and they both snickered. Kyle ate steadily, offering to pass dishes and asking questions he didn't care about.

"How's school, Kyle?" Rosa asked, not out of interest but obligation.

"Fine," he said. "I'm studying ahead a bit. Nothing too exciting."

"I heard you had some... accident," she said. "Something about a bus crash?"

"It was in the news," Nora interjected quickly. "He was lucky. They all were."

Rosa arched a brow. "Still, that kind of trauma can affect a boy's mind. You sure he's alright?"

Kyle smiled. "I think I'm more worried about grizzly bears now than my mental health."

Troy scoffed. "Wow, you really are a geek."

Kyle turned toward him. "I like facts. You should try them sometime."

Derrick smirked. "You sound like your dad."

The table went quiet.

Rosa cleared her throat and stood. "Dessert."

Kyle leaned back in his chair, gaze flicking to his mother. She gave him a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Part III: Outside Words

After lunch, the cousins dragged Kyle out back under the pretense of showing him their new dirt bikes. The backyard sloped down to a weedy field, the grass rough and untamed.

"Bet you've never ridden one of these," Derrick said, patting the handlebar of a dusty blue bike.

"I've ridden worse," Kyle replied, already seeing where this was headed.

"You gonna cry if you fall?" Troy asked, grinning. "Or does your fancy brain keep you upright too?"

"I'll try to survive," Kyle said.

They didn't let him ride it, of course. Just circled him like jackals, revving the engines, kicking up dust. Kyle stood still, hands in his hoodie pockets, expression unreadable. The part of him that once would've flinched or argued was gone.

He watched them with the same quiet attention he gave to solving math problems. He calculated. Measured.

He could overpower them easily now. But that wasn't strength. That was just reaction.

Real control was knowing you could, and choosing not to.

Part IV: Nora's Shadow

Later, as the sun dipped low, Kyle found his mom standing at the front steps, arms hugging herself. She didn't look at him as he joined her.

"I heard everything," he said.

"I figured," she replied quietly.

"You okay?"

She paused. "They don't understand. They never will. Rosa still thinks love is a transaction—you invest, expect a return."

"Then why do we keep coming back?"

Nora exhaled. "Because love... doesn't always make sense. I don't want to give up on the people who share my blood. Even if they've already given up on me."

Kyle nodded. "I don't come for them. I come for you."

That made her turn. Her eyes shimmered with quiet warmth. "You've grown up so much."

"Had to," he said.

She reached over and touched his cheek. "You remind me of him, sometimes. Your dad. But also... not. You see the world clearer than either of us did."

Kyle didn't know what to say to that. So he just stood with her, watching the wind stir through the grass, wondering if families like theirs ever healed—or just learned to limp together.

Part V: Steel Under Skin

The ride home was quieter. Nora drove slower this time, as if reluctant to return to their small apartment and the quiet hum of ordinary life. Kyle leaned against the window, fingers tapping a rhythm on his thigh.

The weight of the day didn't feel heavy. It felt familiar.

He could hear Derrick's voice in his head—You sound like your dad.

He could still feel the look Rosa gave his mother—like a broken promise in a skirt.

And yet none of it shook him.

Not anymore.

When they pulled into their lot, he spoke first. "I don't want you to apologize for them."

"I wasn't going to," Nora said.

"I know. But if you ever do—don't. They're wrong about you. And him."

Nora touched his hand before getting out. "You're strong, Kyle."

He didn't answer. Not with words.

That night, after his mom had gone to bed, Kyle stood in the bathroom and looked at his reflection under flickering fluorescent light.

He remembered how it had felt in the forest—when the bear charged.