“I’m right here. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“They ran him off the road, Mom. They wanted to kill him.”
“Who did, sweetheart? Who wanted to kill him?”
“Those dumbass drunk boys!”
I shrieked it so loudly that Mom clung to me tighter. She stood up, pulling me against her as she slowly moved us from the kitchen to the living room. We fell to the couch and she pulled me into her lap, cradling me the way she used to do when I was a small girl.
She kissed the side of my head. “Tell me what happened.”
I shook my head. “I can’t—can’t—can’t ta—”
“Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh. It’s okay. Deep breaths for me, princess. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Okay? Like this?”
I tried to do as Mom asked, but my breathing was choppy. Weak. I couldn't breathe out as much as she was and I had a hard time drawing in air. But she worked me through it. She counted softly in my ear as I sank against her. Sank into the warmth and comfort I’d always remembered about my mother. My tears slowly dried and my body quietly calmed down. And after a few minutes, my breathing evened out.
“There’s a good girl. That’s my princess. I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”
I sniffled. “Clint came to hang out with me after work last night. He wanted to hang out before bringing me home on his bike.”
She nodded. “Sounds like a good enough plan. What happened?”
I sighed. “Four boys drove up to us in some car. It was obvious they were drunk, too. A couple of the guys Clint knew from a fight that happened at school a couple days back or so. I don’t know. I can’t really remember the timeline anymore.”
“It’s okay. You can talk about whatever you want.”
“It all happened so fast. It’s such a blur. I just—they kept saying things to me. Looking at me. Licking their lips at me. Clint got them angry with him so they’d leave me alone. He told me to run, and I did. I hopped the fence to the elementary school playground and he took off on his bike.”
“My God, princess.”
“Next thing I know, I’m calling Michael to come get me. Calling 9-1-1 and telling them they have to get out there. We’re driving up and down roads with tires squealing in the distance. And then we come upon Clint’s bike.”
I felt my voice catching in my throat as Mom tucked my head into the crook of her neck.
“Where was his bike?”
My chest jumped. “Crushed into the metal railing of a bridge. Momma, he fell into the river. Twenty feet, down onto the bank. It was terrible, Mom. He looked absolutely mangled. He stopped breathing. There was water. Michael kept screaming at me. There were sirens and I kept calling out his name, trying to get him to wake up. I just couldn't leave him down there like that, Mom. I couldn't let him be alone. Please don’t be mad at me. Please.”
“I could never be mad at you. Ever. I’m just so thankful you’re okay.”
“Please don’t be mad. Please. Please, Mom. Please.”
I cried into her, wrapping my arms around her neck. I clung to her tighter than I could ever remember, and she rocked me side to side. I heard her singing a song in my ear. A Spanish lullaby she’d always sung to me as a little girl. It calmed my soul and soothed my fears, quieting down my tears.
Then a knock came at the door.
“Raelynn Cleaver?”
The man’s voice stunned both my mother and myself. Until it dawned on me.
The police.
The knock came again and Mom stood up with me. I slid to her side, walking with her toward the door as she cracked it open. I peeked around the corner with my tear-stained cheeks, studying the two officers standing on our porch.
Wow, Michael really wasn't joking.
“Can I help you?” Mom asked.