His sweater wasn't nearly warm enough. The sun was setting and a cold wind came from the mountains. The chains on the swing made a soft squeaking noise as he swung back and forth, back and forth. Eyes closed, arms thrown outward.
He had left the house maybe an hour ago. It would be time for dinner, now, Beverley would have noticed him missing. He knew that he should head back, but he couldn't, not then. So he waited. Perhaps the police would find him, perhaps one of the family; at the moment he didn't care.
His father's visit had left him sick to his stomach and wanting only to get away. So he went to the park. It was quiet and safe and everyone left the boy on the swing alone.
He looked up at the sun, setting low on the horizon, setting the sky alight. They had to be getting worried. Would he get in trouble? The thought mildly worried and interested him. He had never been in trouble with Beverley before, though he'd seen her put Mickey in time-out a few times. She would never hit them, it wasn't her way, not like it was his way.
The jangle of chain in the swing next to him told him he was found. The smell of rose soap and oranges told him that it was Winona who had found him. He dug his heels into the earth to stop swinging.
He didn't look up, he didn't need to. He listened as she dialed her "just for emergencies" cell phone and spoke, "Beverley? Yeah, I found him. We're at the park. Okay. Okay, bye."
There was silence after she hung up.
"You scared Beverley half to death, Ryan." He felt ashamed, then. Ashamed for having scared Beverley and ashamed that he was now being scolded by a eleven-year-old. "She started cryin' when we couldn't find you."
"I'm sorry," he said.
He sensed her nodding. "You should forgive him, Ryan." He shook his head. "I wish I did." He looked up at her for the first time, then, seeing this little girl anew as she spoke, "He only did it once or twice, but I hated him after that. When he came back, said he was sorry, I told him I hated him. That I wished he was dead."
She was silent for a long time. So very quiet and still, her curls hanging in her face, the last bit of light illuminating her with an orange light. Her long lashes rested on her cheeks. She pursed her lips, then drew then into a straight line.
"Got my wish two weeks later."