Chapter 5

I pretend

To live in the present.

Now is what I crave,

Flinches at the feeder,

Sunlight on a rose.

But memory

The relentless tide

Suddenly brings me alive

A forgotten moment

With such a freight

Of passionate grief in it

I cry out

Alone.

The past is Now.

The tide rises and falls.

There is no shutting it out.

- The Tides

"This child is mine."

Jazmine clung tightly to her sleeping bag, the rolled heap of fabric providing much needed comfort. The Freeman family had only recently moved in, just before the start of the school year, and her few interactions with her new neighbors kept them at the lowly rank of strangers. Her mommy and daddy were leaving for a weekend trip together, and Jazmine was to stay with the Freeman clan.

"Ready pumpkin?" Her mother asked, holding out her hand to the child. Jazmine smiled weakly, and nodded, taking her parent's hand. They left the house, walking down the sidewalk and towards their neighbors. Jazmine stared at her feet watching the ground pass beneath her as they moved.

Sensing her daughter's discomfort, Sarah Dubois squeezed her hand, making brief eye contact and adopting a smile. "You're going to have a lot of fun little lady. Robert has two grandsons for you to play with."

Jazmine's grip tightened on her sleeping bag, carrying it with one hand was becoming a struggle. "What's their names?" She asked, her stomach a mix of anxiety and excitement.

Her mother tilted her head in thought, and Jazmine admired the way her blonde hair shifted atop her shoulders. It had gotten longer, and the woman was scheduled for a cut soon, much to her daughter's distaste. Whenever she worked she fixed it so not a strand was out of place, slick and professional. Jazmine wished she'd keep it long and wear it down more often. If the ten-year-old had hair like that, she would surely be a princess.

"Riley is the youngest, such a nice name, I think if you had been a boy we would have named you that. And the other one...Henry, I think. Well, maybe it's Howie."

"You mean you don't know?" Jazmine prodded, surprised. If her mother didn't know then Jazmine may have to ask, and the prospect sent new waves of nerves crashing into her.

At her old house in the country they lived miles away from anyone else, it had been like a retreat from the surrounding city only the wealthy could enjoy. She had found it difficult to make friends and spent she summers playing alone.

They crossed the street, stepping into the driveway of the boys in question. "You can ask him yourself sweetie."

Sarah knocked on the door and let go of Jasmine's hand. While the pair awaited a response Sarah subconsciously twisted her wedding ring, delicate fingers rubbing the band. Jazmine chewed her bottom lip, wishing she was someone else, someone prettier and admired. She closed her hands and looked down at her small fists. These boys would be her friends; her wavered determination reaffirmed with forced resolve.

The door was yanked open by a boy Jazmine's age, a steady calm about him despite the rough motion. The first thing she noticed, the first feature everyone noticed, was his hair, grown into a wild afro of massive proportions. It made the rest of him seem small. She had to force her gaze past his hair and to his face. His dark eyes flitted to her then away, and she felt her stomach turn to ice at the short acknowledgement; it felt too much like a dismissal.

"Hello Mrs. Dubois," He greeted, neither his expression nor his tone lightened with the words. "Granddad will be just a moment."

With the mention of the grandparent, shouts rang down from the second floor, the recognizable squeals of a tantrum being thrown and the frustrated, disciplinary cries of Robert Freeman. Those cries did little to settle the young girl's nerves, her having never been yelled at by an adult before. A strict tone was all it took to send her into tears.

She moved to take a cautionary step back, but the sudden force of the boy's gaze kept her still. A glimmer in the almandine depths of his eyes, the small light a threatening, glacial force. She felt she needed to be brave, she must be brave, the fear of his disappointment climbed up her legs with its hooked claws.

She forced a timid smile onto her features - a silent treaty - fingers digging into her sleeping bag. Take my introduction, accept it so I can breathe.

To her relief, he gave the briefest of nods, barely a reprieve from his stone like stillness, and she visibly slumped, the surrounding world returning. She felt the sunlight on her skin, the heat of the day, heard the coo-OO-ooo of a mourning dove, the sound bouncing off of the closed garage doors found in suburbia. The warmth of acceptance bloomed in her chest, an ode to possible friendship.

An old man appeared in the doorway, pushing the boy back into the depths of the house, plastering a polite, neighborly smile on his weathered face. "Sorry about that Mrs. Dubois, my uh - grandson needed some discipline. Boy it sure is hot outside, would you like some water? Or maybe a cool glass of orange juice? Cheese?" Before Sarah could get a word out in response to the almost conspiratorial twinkle in the old man's eyes, he turned his attention on Jasmine, whose throat had gone dry. He leaned forwards, hands on his knees, surprising lithe in his age, and grinned. "And who is this little angel?"

Jazmine smiled, a small giggle escaping her lips, taking an instant liking to Mr. Freeman. Orange juice and he thought she looked like an angel? Angels looked more like her mother than anything else, with their blonde hair, porcelain skin, and downy white wings. Despite this truth, he thought of her as one. She was flattered into giddiness.

"Jazmine..." She supplied, bashful beneath his warm gaze. She didn't have a grandfather, and briefly wondered if all of them had welcoming eyes like his.

Behind him, the boy pressed his lips tight, walking away and leaving her line of vision. The grandfather took no notice, straightening and standing to the side. He gestured towards the interior, grinning. "Well come on in little baby, you can help me with dinner and then we'll watch a movie, sound good?" She nodded and looked to her mom for permission.

Sarah had appeared to be trying to get a word in, and with Roberts silence finally had a chance to. "G rated films only, and no sugar after five, no water before bed. Be sure to keep the hall light on, Jazmine won't sleep in the dark. Oh and-"

"Mommy!" Jazmine groaned, refusing to look at Mr. Freeman. I'm not a baby! She didn't want the boy from earlier to hear, or anyone her age for that matter. She had a hard-enough time fitting in.

Sarah composed herself, morphed from frantic to doting, and became attentive to her child. "Love you sweetie," She bent down and hugged her tightly, warm and loving. "Daddy and I will be back on Sunday." She gave Jazmine's cheek a wet peck, and frowned when the girl rubbed it off. "Love you mommy," She mumbled, ready to be done with goodbyes.

Quickly the frizzy haired girl entered the home; Mr. Freeman exchanging goodbyes and assuring the mother that any worries she had were for naught. The interior wasn't very different from her own home, similar design, same neutral color schemes. The entrance faced off with a staircase, where the second-floor hall was exposed in the form of an indoor balcony. To her right was the kitchen, her left the living room. Beside the stairs was a hall heading to guest rooms and the basement door, she knew, for her home had the same.

The front door shut behind her, and Mr. Freeman sighed, appearing relieved to be done with his conversation with her mother. "Alright little baby, what sounds good for dinner?"

She set her bag down neatly on the floor, beside the empty coat rack. The house was clean thus far, and her anxiety had begun to dissipate. "You mean I can choose?" She asked, surprised.

Mr. Freeman laughed, a jolly, loud sound that ran through his whole body. "Of course baby girl, you're our guest. So, what'll it be?"

"Mac and cheese?" She offered shyly. It wasn't anything complex, but by god was it tasty.

"Then macaroni and cheese it is! You're lucky baby girl, I just happen to have noodles and Velveeta cheese."

A new face appeared, or rather, the same face. A boy shorter than Jazmine and clearly a little younger had bounced down the stairs. His face was small and round, the smooth surface filled with large, expressive eyes and a smile that illuminated them. His hair was braided tightly against his scalp and at the base of his skull it twisted freely down, hanging equivalent to the length of his neck.

"Boy you better not even think about acting up, we have company, so be on your best behavior! Act like you're someone else."

"Aye granddad, why can't I be me? I wasn't gon do nothin cept'-"

"That's right!" The elder interrupted, forcing Jazmine to step back as he leaned in towards his youngest. "You are going to do nothing. Go sit next to your brother."

To Jazmine, who had been a silent observer, the boy looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. He turned and faced her, expression suddenly blank. Then a sly smile grew, and with its growth came a feeling of apprehension. "Aye Huey," He crowed, wandering into the living room where his brother evidently was. He shot Jazmine one last look before disappearing from view.

"I'll uh," Mr. Freeman started, brows furrowed in concern beneath his thick, box framed glasses. "I'll get started on the food, you go play with the boys." She wanted to object, to remind him of his previous proposal of her helping with dinner, but found she couldn't, years of obedience being ground into her. "Yes Mr. Freeman." She mumbled, turning nervously to the living room where the back of the sofa faced her.

She entered the room and could clearly hear the conversation, the backs of the two boy's heads visible.

"Can a white person have an afro?" Riley mused, and the question sounded genuine.

"Only if they paint landscapes on public television." Huey quipped, and his heavy, irritated tone surprised her almost more than his words.

She didn't get his reference, but was used to the feeling of being left out. The pressing anxiety as to the subject of Riley's inquiry was dismissed, it wasn't the time to be insecure. She rounded the couch, and found herself beneath the sharp gazes of the two. Strangely, the resemblance stoic Huey had when held to lively Riley was uncanny, they could have been twins if not for the age difference.

Now or never. She thought, then smiled, blasting past any reservations by utilizing her greatest strength: her optimism. "My name's Jazmine." She introduced, dipping into a slight curtsy like she had seen on tv. "My favorite movie is Gone with the Wind and my favorite color is pink, but not hot pink, just regular pink. Do you want to be friends?"

Riley was the first to move, scowling while addressing Huey's previous statement - and ignoring her completely. "Nigga, ain't nobody get your old ass references." He crossed his arms and uncrossed them, turning to jab a finger at Jazmine.

"You black or white?" He asked, his bluntness foreign to her. She clamped her open mouth shut, suddenly self-conscious.

Huey's gaze narrowed at her silence, and he closed the book he had been holding.

"Well?" The younger brother prompted, and took a step closer. She didn't think a kid so small could be so intimidating.

"I, uh." She fumbled, trying to answer, then stopped. "Does it matter?" She defended.

Four duplicates of the same eye stared at her in disbelief.

She clapped her hand to her palm, frustrated and nervous. "Okay look, my mom is white, and my dad is black, so that makes me…" She hadn't really thought about it before. She knew she wasn't white, and likewise she could have been black, so she was in the middle…? Why did there need to be categories anyway?

"Black." Huey remarked. "That makes you black." The was no anger in his voice, nor his gaze, and the furrowing in his brows had diminished. He looked worried, like people do when they're speaking to someone who is delusional and lives beyond the boundaries of reality.

"You're making it sound like I'm picking sides." She complained.

"Bitch you are picking sides!" The younger brother snapped, recapturing her attention.

Jazmine shook her head, eyes beginning to water at his tone. "No, I'm not, I won't."

"You're black." Huey repeated, stilled stunned. "You have an afro; how could you argue otherwise?"

"Yea, there's nothin' wrong being black, I'm black, my brother's black, Obama's black!"

"I do NOT have an afro!" She shrieked.

"Would you prefer to be called white?" Huey asked, disgusted.

"No! That's not what I'm saying at all!"

"Then what are you saying?" He demanded.

Overwhelmed, frustrated tears escaped down her cheeks despite her efforts to stop them. "Why do I have to pick?" She asked, but her question was ignored.

Riley's threw his hands up in the air, scowling. "And now this bitch crying."

"Get a hold of yourself." Huey scolded.

Robert entered the living room at a brisk pace, hands on his hips. "What the hell is going on here? Jazmine hasn't been here for five minutes and you two nappy haired dumbasses have already made her cry."

"But granddad she-"

"Shut up, I ain't raising any bullies in this house. Apologize!"

Riley gaped. "What?"

"Apologize or Jazmine and I will be the only ones eating tonight." Robert put his proverbial foot down, ending all arguments.

Or at least tried to. Huey picked up his book and tucked it beneath his arm, standing and walking away. "I wasn't going to eat that processed trash anyway."

Riley spoke over his sibling's departure, Jazmine listened, but her eyes were trained on Huey. He climbed the stairs and was gone and her hands fell to her sides.

"I'm not missing out on mac and cheese, I'll apologize. I'm sorry that yose whitewashed and confused Mariah. There, I said it." He flopped onto the sofa, remote in hand and surfing through the channels before his grandfather got a word out.

Robert rubbed his nose beneath his glasses, then sighed and righted them. "That's the best I can do baby girl, don't be too upset, unlike you, these boys don't have manners. Let's go make supper, okay?"

She nodded, and wiped her face, sniffing.

They walked through the entryway and into the kitchen. Jazmine stared up at the second floor as they passed. "Mr. Freeman, is Huey really going without dinner?"

Robert adjusted his sweater, it was the cheesy kind that old men wore so frequently it became a cliché.

"You know it little baby, the Freeman clan doesn't tolerate behavior like that, nun uh, not in this house we don't."

"I didn't want anyone to get in trouble."

"Those two would've gotten into trouble with or without you' little baby, it's in their nature to be misbehaving, ungrateful-"

She interrupted his list before it began, uncomfortable around an adult who so easily bad mouths his family. "They can't be all bad."

If Mr. Freeman had heard her it didn't show. Jazmine chewed her lip, then let the topic fade.

Outside, it had begun raining. It clamored against the windows and ceiling, the sound fading and returning in bursts. They settled into silence, Jazmine learning the placement of items in the room and enjoying the minimal decorations.

Atop the kitchen island, next to a bowl of fruit, was a framed photograph of the two Freeman children. Where one seemed distracted, glancing away from the camera at some inner trouble, the other grinned with vigor enough for them both.

Mr. Freeman occasionally muttered to himself, and Jazmine's ears caught: "Shoot, that boy's skinny enough as it is, he's going to end up bitch-less - all skin and bones -and you don't wanna be bitch-less. Where's the pepper? Damn kids...I'm bitch-less right now…" A long pause, then, "You can't live like a rabbit!"

After making the meal and enduring a short stretch of well-meant small talk, Jazmine filled an extra plate with food and took it upstairs. She told not the youngest Freeman nor the grandfather, embarking up the staircase with a caution customary to first time guests. To the left of her was a bathroom, Granddad's bedroom, and a linen closet. To her right was a guest room, still bare and filled with unopened boxes, two more closets, a window and the last room. She knocked on the final door, just as she did throughout the hallway during her search.

It opened mid knock, and her peer was before her, dark eyes glaring.

She swallowed and her offering, the apology, was shoved into his hands. Mac and cheese nearly toppled from the paperware.

His mouth twitched with the unnerving promise of words, and she rushed to explain herself, speaking without plan or reservations. "I thought you might be hungry and I'm so sorry for earlier!"

He looked sourly down at the meal. A serving of mac and cheese, which had cooled to room temperature by now, and beside it a small salad of diced tomatoes and spinach. "I wasn't joking about not eating."

Immediately her gaze dropped to the hardwood floor, self-conscious yet again. Like a fish her mouth opened and closed. His feet moved, both pointed towards her. "I...I'm such a crybaby - but I never wanted anyone to get in trouble and please don't be mad."

"I'm not."

She closed her mouth, eyes darting to his face. They took in each other.

There was a light in his irises despite his unsmiling face. It was the same warmth his grandfather and brother had, his however, made the sun double in size.

He made her feel anxious, like she had been caught naked in public and he was the first and only person to notice. It was nerve wracking and admittedly a little exhilarating.

The feeling would remain throughout the short duration of their friendship. She admired him to a fault, and her parents couldn't stop her instant friendship. She was devoted to him.

"It was Jazmine?" He shifted to angle his body to the side of the doorway. It gave room to enter.

Happiness hit her with such force and intensity it took her breath away, and she smiled goofily. "Yeah."

Was this how it felt to make a friend?

He walked to a circular table by the closet, and she followed.

"At least you included some uncooked vegetables. My Granddad strips them of any nutritional value by boiling them in pork." He stopped, and grimaced. "Do you eat meat?"

She blinked. "Yes."

"Do you like animals?"

"Of course!" Just the thought of them made her glow. She loved everything from cats to dogs to ponies, which were her favorites. "They're so cute."

They both took a seat, his back towards the window and hers to the closet.

"Even cows, pigs, and chickens?"

"Mm hmm. Daddy and Mommy took me to a petting zoo and it was super fun. The chickens weren't even in cages! They were so cute! They just ran up to us and we got to feed them. She swung her feet beneath her, ankles crossed, and added, They're really fast though." She couldn't keep her smile off her face. Her cheeks ached deliciously.

He eyed her from his end of the table. He took a bite of his food, chewed then swallowed.

"It's murder."

She froze. "What?"

"The animals you eat are taken away from their families, from their nice petting zoos and farms, killed, slaughtered, cut into teeny tiny pieces then sold. By eating meat not only are you destroying their families but you are participating willingly in a system that profits over murder."

He was heartless and firm, his tone indicating that not only was he correct but there would be no opposing argument.

Jazmine felt her throat tighten, and she blinked rapidly, shifting her feet as quick tears rolled down her face. She sniffled, nodded, and swallowed. "What do I, what can I do?"

He leaned back in his seat, eyes unblinking. "You canno-" His grandfather's booming voice broke through Huey's sentence, and the boy's words died. "You kids ready to watch a movie?"

Jazmine was already gone, bounding down the hall with a giddy squeal. She hardly registered Huey's rushed, "Just don't eat meat!" And missed his exasperated sigh of, "damn..."

They watched Shark Tale, with Will Smith, and Jazmine giggled and oooed at the film. She loved the beauty of the ocean, and the funny characters. Riley claimed he was too old to watch the movie, but joined them nevertheless, laughing from time to time as he got sucked in and forgot to remain aloof.

Huey didn't join them, but that was okay. There were many other sleep overs and kid films after the initial night, and as she grew closer to him his appearances increased in number.

That night she went to bed with a smile on her face, tucked in by Mr. Freeman's gentle weathered hands. He was just as good as Mommy and Daddy, she decided. For a long time, she laid awake in the dim glow of the hallway light, warm and safe.

When she woke, it wasn't in the comfort of the Freeman's home, nor in her own room. She was cold and stiff from sleeping on the bench in the police station. Her hands reached for her blanket, but met only cold skin and wrinkled clothes. Blearily she blinked, eyes adjusting to the florescent lights, and beside her was Aunt Ashley, her shoulders covered with the stolen blanket. The woman's head lolled to the side as she shifted in her slumber, and Jazmine's jade gaze was locked onto her matted, blonde hair.

There was no beauty to be found.

To say Robert was concerned was an understatement, to say he was upset was almost worse. He was beyond worried, agitated, nervous, or anxious. No, none of those terms would befit the old man who had spent the day punching numbers into the landline, screaming into the mouthpiece until his voice grew raw, and slamming the phone into it's cradle. His head contained ringing bells of the loudest volume that clanged and pounded against the interior of his skull. His denchers rubbed harshly against his gums, his clothes itched from extended wear, and he was in desperate need of a shower.

In conclusion: Robert Freeman was undeniably, irrevocably pissed off.

B.E.T had been blazing on the TV without relent and no snide comments were made, no lectures given or brawls ignited. Junk food - not soul food, Robert was a little too stressed to indulge in his favorite pastime of cooking - was eaten in peace. A growing pile of newspapers lay atop the kitchen table, untouched after Robert's glance through.

It had been over twenty-four hours since anyone had seen Huey, hell, it had probably been double that since he himself had seen his eldest grandchild.

His blood pressure was wickedly high, he assumed, due to the irritable, suffocating feeling he had been burdening throughout the day. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if Huey was his only worry, but he had to think about Jazmine as well.

Earlier he and Riley had gone to the store, and in a hurried flurry of spending that left him anxious and mildly depressed, they had purchased clothes, toiletries, school supplies that she had lost amongst toys and decorations. His shopping list had kept falling from his shaking hands, which had sweat through the paper to a marring extent anyhow. Riley, of all people had been his saving grace, guiding his cart with the tug of a hand to the mall's various sections.

And that was another concern, his loud mouth pest of a grandchild lacked his usual personality. Like a deflated balloon he sulked. When Robert asked him to do the dishes he undertook the assignment without complaint, a rarity.

The old man leaned back in his seat, crooking his head to peer into the kitchen. The kid was still there, working steadily.

There was a knock on the door, and Robert jumped, startled out of his thoughts. Too many people had been running in and out of his life as of late. The knock came again, louder and hurried - like from someone who wasn't used to waiting.

Robert swore beneath his breath and knew he wouldn't be able to control his temper if it was Thugnificent 'delivering' the wrong package so he could get a free lunch, or Ruckus wanting to brag about his many jobs while failing to fix the water heater.

Before answering the continued rapping on his door, he glanced at the mirror, running his hands through what little hair he had left and straightening his sweater. What if it was a pretty lady? Or a police officer trying to dig for more information on Huey? They had already interrogated him and Riley for hours, their lack of foul play should be beyond a doubt!

A second look to Riley, who was still scrubbing pots with uncharacteristic diligence, and he nodded, taking in a sharp breath.

He opened the door, and was face to face with..Ed Wuncler the third?

"Shit, it's bout' time! I'm freezin' my ass off out here!" The man shoved his way past Robert and into the house, rubbing his hands together. Behind him was the red-haired police officer, face flushed in the early spring air and sunglasses shielding his eyes. Holding his hand was Jazmine, the little girl looking like she hadn't showered or slept in days. Her tired, sad eyes met his and she mustered a weak smile. "Hello Mr. Freeman."

It was enough to melt his heart.

Robert shut the door, then turned to address the pair, Ed having gone and begun raiding their fridge.

Jazmine dimly glanced around the home, then let her gaze slip to the floor, where it remained. Officer Carter removed his sunglasses, his shoulders lacking their usual tension despite the line between his brows. In an action similar to a toddler, the ten-year-old girl raised her arms up, and the police man tucked his glasses in his shirt pocket, lifting her from her armpits and holding her. Her cheek rested against the man's shoulder, arms around his neck.

He spoke around the action, "I know this visit is unexpected, but no one answered your phone." The old man blushed, suspecting - though he'd never admit it - that he had broken the device after repeated drops. He had been using it in states of high stress and anger during this last week, and that had led to a spike in the mistreatments.

"Yes, sorry about that, damn thing must be busted."

If Carter disapproved of his swearing around the child, he didn't show it.

Ed rejoined the adults with his mouth stuffed, chewing noisily and taking a swig of orange juice straight from the container. Robert plastered a polite smile. It just had to be to fresh squeezed stuff from Sam's Club didn't it? He let the behavior slide, not wanting to offend the grandson of the man who owned the bank that owned his house.

Officer Carter raised an eyebrow at man, then shook his head, opening his mouth to speak. "The situation has changed, and - off the record - I'm relieved. Jazmine needs a stable home, and Ms. Higgins was not the woman for the job."

Outside, beams of sunlight broke through the clouds, and Robert felt his confusion begin to fade. "You're saying she can stay?"

Carter nodded, and Ed leaned back, shrugging his oversized winter coat from his shoulders and let it hang from his elbows. "Shiiitt, that bitch was crazy as a motha fucka." Ed wiped his nose on the back of his hands, then rubbed the moisture against his jeans.

Carter grunted in agreement, "Real piece of work."

"You knew her?" Robert asked Ed, curious.

"Aiye it happened like dis, ya know? My man Gin an' I went to bail my weed guy: so he could reinvent hisself and pursue a betta life and shit-"

Robert was sure half that sentence was for the benefit of the officer beside them, and not at all true. It was irrelevant either way, as the man went into the kitchen and had a dead-eyed Riley show him the way to Jazmine's work-in-progress bedroom. Huey's absence and the uncertainty of actual custody postponing the remodel.

"-and fuck there was this bitch was all ova me n' shit, and ain't gon' lie she was sexy in a hillbilly sorta way, until I saw her teeth I gotta goddamn tragedy. Anyway, I try ta' dip outta there but this bitch followed us to Rummy's crib, an' she fuckin' started talkin' she in love n' shit. I tell her I ain't takin' care of no kids, cause you know I ain't gettin' involved in nobody elses family shit, and she says she'd ditch 'er to make a niggah happy."

He paused, and stared off to the side, his eyes squinted in a way that reflected deep thoughts, but knowledge of Ed's intelligence signified otherwise. Still, it was the most Robert had ever seen him express, and it unnerved him. He wanted the grandson of the man who owned his house to like him, sure, but he didn't want his emotional baggage. Robert was missing his soaps for god's sake, he had done enough charity for a lifetime.

Ed spoke again, trusting his free hand deep into pockets of saggin pants, slouching in a way that conflicted with his economic class. "It ain't like I care or nothin', but chu gotta least pretend you like the kid."

Robert was reminded of their first meeting, how Ed had almost immediately warmed to his youngest Grandson and entertained him. He had the tough, wigger act going for him, if it even was an act, but deep inside he had a soft spot for kids.

Carter returned without Jazmine, thumbs tucked beneath his belt and his freckled face stoic. He was likely just as tired as the old man, having been assigned to care for the girl. Riley wasn't with him, but a clamoring in the kitchen signal the boys dutiful, out of character, return to his chores.

"-So, I was like biiiitttccchhh!" Ed spat, sucking Robert back into the story. He didn't care about what happened to Ashley, he had been around too many crazy women for that, his empathy was dry. Robert just wanted, more than anything at the moment, to take a load off with a glass of boxed wine - all his white neighbors were drinking it - and watch his soaps until he fell into a deep sleep. Life wasn't right without a good nap.

Ed's story continued on for the next ten minutes, Robert glancing from Carter's unimpressed expression and Ed's theatrics. He had difficulty making sense of the story, but with each clarity lacking point the heir to the Wuncler fortune bounced and flailed his arms.

"And after alla dat, the bitch gets arrested for trespassing and she done it so many times before, they sendin' her back to her home state!"

Robert cackled. "Yeah-boy! That crazy bitch is out of our lives, whoopee!"

Carter smiled at the laughing pair, an action that reminded Robert that there was a white officer in his home and he needed to be on his best, ass kissing behavior.

"Sorry officer, I forgot to mind my manners. Would you care for some cheese?" The dairy product was his 'go to', his ace in the hole. The only issue was how millennials sometimes got hooked on wild diets. Behind him, Ed took a noisy, sloshing swig of orange juice, and Granddad sent out a prayer to the lord above to keep him for committing a grave, violent sin against his rude neighbor.

"No thanks," The officer declined. "I'm going dairy free this month."

And naturally the officer was one of the hippy millennials who couldn't eat normal foods, to Robert's great dismay.

Carter turned to the elder fully, his smile gone. "Any word on your eldest?" He asked.

The older man adjusted his glasses, then shook his head. "You'd know better than me, because of all the trouble he gets into they're keeping me in the dark."

The redhead nodded, his sunken, pale eyes shone. "The boys at the station don't know whether to make the case a federal or local issue. It's a mess. The feds came before they got official jurisdiction and nobody knows who to listen to. Are we looking for a rogue domestic terrorist, or a lost child?" He sighed, gaze flitting down to his narrow reflection on his shined shoes. "I'm not a detective, so it's not like I have any business nosing through the case. I guess I'm just worried about her."

"Jazmine?"

Again, he nodded. The corners of his mouth twitched, but in a smile or grimace Granddad wasn't sure. "I've been in her place, as I'm sure you have. We all lose someone eventually, but at such an age..."

"Shit, she'll be okay." Ed interjected, suddenly out of his bubble and aware of the other two. "The kid's smart, and it ain't like nobody cares for her. She got the Freemans, so she'll be aight."

Robert wouldn't think of it until much later, when the sun had set and Ed was long gone, but he hadn't ever heard mention of the boy's mother. The thought would be dismissed as it occurred, but it unknowingly softened his impression of the man-child. We all lose somebody.

"She has two Freemans." Carter corrected sternly. "And by our detailed files on Huey, we gathered she was close to him, right?"

Robert frowned. It wasn't his business who the boys spent their time with. He just wanted them out of the house. He couldn't say that aloud, however, if he wanted to retain custody of Jazmine.

"They were...inseparable." He supplied, thinking back to how often she would visit his room, or ask for him at the door. It was never Riley she inquired after. "Like glue."

Carter's walkie-talkie buzzed, and he shifted, his guarded, professional 'I-lock-people-up-for-a-living' expression in place. "I will be checking in at random, just protocol. Take care Mr. Freeman, I hope they find your grandson."

He left, and Ed followed, dropping the almost empty container to the floor. "Shit, I ain't staying neither."

The door shut and Robert groaned, rubbing his temples. "Goddamn white folks. RILEY," He yelled, old habits are accessed easier than the knowledge of the current situation. He was too old to tip toe for weeks around his grandson. Too old and tired.

"Come pick up this mess!"

He walked to the first-floor guest room, Jazmine's room, and knocked on the door. It creaked open from the force, and the girl was sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

He paused, hesitant for lack or certainty, then entered. "Hey little baby, you want mac and cheese for dinner?" She didn't look at him, and Granddad worried his voice had been too soft.

Then a shrug. Followed by a nod and a turn of her head.

Their gazes met, his concerned beneath a forced smile, the most difficult one he'd ever had to fake; hers wet and shining filled with more emotions than he could handle.

She burst into tears, and Robert froze, horrified.

He remembered when Sarah kicked Tom out, and the man stayed at their home, in this very room for a few days. Those tears were painfully similar, and he crossed the room, cautiously patting her on the back.

She sobbed harder, hardly able to breathe past her wheezing.

His heart seized, and he felt the illogical need to apologize. "I'm sorry baby girl, that's the best I can do." He bailed. "I guess I'll get the stove going then..y-you just come out when you're ready."

The little girl nodded, then pulled her knees to her chest. Robert shut the door, and prayed to god for the second time that day, asking for things to get easier.

"Why me?" He mumbled as he walked back to the kitchen.

It took longer than any of the three would admit to grow accustomed to the silence.

Huey was never a talkative member of the family, not when the customary response to his spoken word was a dismissal. It was easy to ignore the child, to grow irritated when his arguments became relentless, when he wouldn't close his mouth and stop his barrage of wavering vocal cords.

When he wasn't perched atop a self-righteous soapbox he was reading. Books, newspapers, the occasional online article. He would sit in quiet and keep to himself, until the ideas he caught in his strainer consolidated and there was no room left to keep them contained.

Without him, the home felt empty. His bed touched only by window light. His books still beneath their coating of dust. The vegetables in the fridge were thrown out, rotten to slime. The newspapers remained bagged and folded at the front door, soiled as presperation collected.

It warmed outside, the sun lengthening the days and coats being exchanged for shorts. Inside, Huey's jacket hung on the coat rack, beside his unused bookbag.

The remaining members of the family, the grandson and his elder, failed to break the silence.

The Freeman clan wasn't a sentimental bunch. They didn't recite 'I love yous' or discuss their feelings. Nostalgia and the fondness of holiday traditions weren't shared, and the three had a disconnect from one another, founded in their misunderstood principles. Without the reserved, quiet member, the other two had no one to mock. They no longer were joined by their shared bewilderment of Huey. Youth and elderly were divided at a sharper angle than ever before.

If they would reach out, try to bridge the gap and comfort one another in their grief, in their confusion and dread that the missing member of their broken family would ever be found, then perhaps words could be shared.

Instead conversations faltered and topics of discussion fumbled and tripped over empty spaces that had before been occupied.

It wouldn't have been so bad, if there wasn't the stranger. The new member of the family who was lost in a recent grief so that it isolated her from them. It had already been hard to cross into each other's world, but the way was lost with a person who understood less about the two of them than they did towards one another.

Everything was wrong. The course to a normal day's happiness was obscured by fog. Clairvoyance was an impossibility undone only when throats weren't caught in tightened confusion and doubt.

Where Jazmine sat was where no one would've sit, or worse, where he had sat. If she left her room and they crossed in the halls, it was a challenge to hold gazes. When she spoke, it was both a relief that the silence was gone, and a ignition of panic to respond.

What should have been said, what still could be said was held in check because the time for speaking was racing past them at a rate that left little chance. The possibility existed, but how to create bonds, to preserve what there had once been and find it again was unanswered. The opportunity for conversation and healing swept past their delay.

No one was prepared for this.

They blamed themselves and shouldn't have. Who could prepare for the tragedy of an unused toothbrush?

Of a seat at the table which wasn't empty, but should've been.

Jazmine was aware of the effect she had, or as aware as a child could've been. She was thankful to be with the Freemans, with the remaining two at least, and she tried to be strong.

Ashley was everything her mother rejected, everything she feared she'd become. Jazmine, however young, understood why she hadn't ever met her aunt the instant she laid eyes on her, and it hurt her deeply.

I'm afraid, she thought, staring into blue eyes drenched with horrible, echoing nostalgia and regret. But not of my future, I'm afraid of the future of their memories if she sweeps me away. Will it all disappear? If so, will I too vanish? A shattered shell of everything they thought I would become? Tears slowly fell, and she clenched her fists in the face of her broken oath. She had promised not to cry anymore, to keep her head held high for Riley, and Mr. Freeman. Shamefully she covered her eyes, feeling the liquid roll down her hands, drip from her chin, and slide over her arms. This woman doesn't care about what food I like or how warm I am or how well I slept. She doesn't want to try to love me, and that makes her the worse of all.

She was thankful to be with the Freemans, but the idea did little to ease her grief. In a way, it worsened it. The family was too close to where her life had been, and sometimes she would wake and think it had been a sleep over, and her mother would be picking her up and her Daddy would be picking up donuts, their Sunday morning tradition.

No donuts, no knock on the door, no laughter as her parent scooped her into their arms and spun her about.

Just, silence, filling the exposed, empty places between them.

EndNote: [don't worry, I'll keep this short.] Thank you for the reviews, and your patience. There is happiness and fun times on the way, I promise. I wouldn't be doing Tom and Sarah justice if it let their revoked positions in the story go undressed, so for a little bit we gotta be sad. The story is far, far from over, so the sadness won't last, but it won't be gone for ever either.

I have a poll on my profile, just for fun. It covers the topic of Huey's departure, where did he go, I wonder?