Too Late

“No one is going to kill you, Asa. For the rest of your life, every time you close your eyes in that prison cell, I want you to see me. With Luke. Making love to Luke. Marrying Luke. Having Luke’s babies.”

She leans in closer until I can smell the sex on her. She’s whispering when she looks me dead in the eyes and says, “And every year on April twentieth, my beautiful family will be celebrating your birthday with a big, huge, delicious coconut cake, you sorry fucking bastard.”

Luke unlocks the door, seconds before it’s shoved open.

Guns are drawn.

Pointed at me.

But all I see is Sloan.

The whore is fucking smiling, and it’s all I see.





It’s been two weeks since Stephen began receiving funding for his group home. It couldn’t have come at a better time—right when my first semester of college started.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about him living apart from me, but it’s way more of a relief knowing he’s there than at home with my mother. My ultimate goal, of course, is to move him in with me eventually, but it’s hard to do that when I don’t even have an official place to stay.

My whole life, I’ve been Stephen’s caretaker. So, growing up, I didn’t even think college was going to be an option for me. It wasn’t until a month before I graduated high school that I found out from the school counselor about financial aid and that I could get financial assistance from the government for Stephen. Apparently it was always available for my mother to apply for, but why would she need to when that required effort on her part? Besides, she had me to take care of him.

I just assumed since my mother was his legal guardian and he was only sixteen that he’d be stuck living with her until he was old enough for some sort of assistance as an adult.

But now, here we are. I discovered financial aid and am now an official college freshman. My only issue was that I didn’t get enough aid to cover the cost of living in the dorms, so I’m still at home for the time being.

Sort of.

I stay with friends (okay, more like acquaintances) sometimes because my house is an hour away from campus. I usually take the bus to school, but that’s only when I have the money to do so. But on the days I have two class days back to back, I just try to find somewhere to crash. That’s been happening more and more often, because every time I’m in the same room with my mother, it turns into a fight. I’ve been avoiding her as much as I can, and now that Stephen no longer lives there, it’s so hard being there.

It’s kind of stressful when I think about my life too much. The fact that I’m not living in the dorms, I don’t have enough aid left to rent an apartment, I’m crashing on people’s couches in hopes I can rotate those places enough that they don’t realize I’m living out of my backpack just to avoid going home to my mother.

But I feel like karma has to lean on my side eventually. And maybe it’s starting to. I don’t have to worry about Stephen as much as I used to, now that he’s in the group home. Which means...I might actually have time for a life now. Every day has been the same routine growing up. Wake up, get dressed, get Stephen dressed, take the bus and drop him off at his school, go to my school, pick him back up at his school, ride the bus home, start dinner, help him eat dinner, give him his meds, bathe him, get him ready for bed, do my homework, sleep, repeat.

But now...I feel somewhat free. Not that Stephen ever felt like a burden to me. I love him and would do anything for him, but it’s nice to finally have some time for myself. I just wish I knew what to do with it. I feel lost after class and spend most of my time in the library. I’ve applied for student-work positions on campus and am on a waiting list for two of them. I also applied to work at the McDonald’s down the street from the college, but apparently every other poor college kid wants to work there, too.

In the meantime, until I can get one of those jobs and start saving up for a place for Stephen and me, I’ll just continue trying to get by. And continue to hope that Stephen’s new care facility is something he grows to love. The ultimate dream would be that the funding he receives never gets cut, and that he grows to love it there and they take good care of him. Because there’s no way I could provide him with what he needs if he lived with me while I was trying to go to college and find a job.

All in all, my life isn’t ideal right now, but it’s getting better. Slowly but surely.

And sitting near this guy who occasionally shows up to history class is one of the few pleasures I get out of life right now.

I’m always really self-conscious when he does show up for class, hoping he never looks in my direction. I’ve never really had the money to buy nice clothes or get my hair or nails done. I’m nothing like the girls who flirt with him in class. My hair is dark and straight and since I can never afford to get it cut and styled, I just let it grow as long as I can until it’s easy for me to trim the edges myself.

I sometimes feel like I stick out at this college, and not in a good way. I’d much rather just blend in. Disappear into the crowd.

I want to be the exact opposite of this guy. Asa, I think is his name. He’s probably one of the best-looking guys I’ve ever seen in real life. And it’s not even entirely because of his looks—it’s because of his confidence. I’ve never seen anything like it. He walks in the classroom with such confidence, holding his massive shoulders back, his head lifted up, his eyes scanning the room like he’s daring someone to say anything about how he rarely shows up once a week. Even the teacher fails to reprimand him and seems sort of nervous to do so.

When every other student walks into the classroom, their heads are down, eyes to the floor, scurrying to their desks so they don’t notice everyone staring at them. But Asa almost seems like he wants everyone to stare at him. Like he’d be upset if he didn’t have the attention of every person in the classroom.

As far as I can tell, he has nothing to worry about. He gets that attention and then some.

I’m staring at him while the teacher drones on and on about the Civil War. Asa has really great hair. I can’t help but imagine what it looks like wet. What it would look like with my hands in it. What it would look like if he were facing me—staring at me like he wanted to touch my hair, too.

I’m not sure he’s ever even laid eyes on me, but I like to imagine he does sometimes. I imagine what it’d be like to be anyone’s focus, really. I’ve never had time for guys due to taking care of Stephen. I mean, it’s like a babysitting job that never ends—not even on weekends or holidays. Guys would ask me out in high school a lot, but I was never able to find a way to get Stephen covered. I wanted to date, though. I wanted all the things normal high school girls wanted. A boyfriend, their first kiss, and everything that comes with that.

Once, I was so desperate to hopefully get that first kiss, that when the guy I had a crush on finally asked me out, I suggested we go to my place instead. That way I could get to know the guy and keep an eye on Stephen at the same time. My mother wasn’t home that night, so before the guy showed up, I put a lot into getting ready for him. But right before he rang the doorbell, Stephen started having a meltdown at the dinner table. It took all I had to finally restrain him, but by the time I had, we were both a mess. Food all over us, my hair covered in sweet potatoes, my shirt ripped at the sleeve.

I opened the door like that—panting from exhaustion. The guy took one look at me and one look at Stephen and the mess he’d made in the kitchen and he backed right out of the house. “Maybe another time,” he suggested.

But he never asked me out again. And I’m pretty sure he told every guy in school what had happened, because no one ever asked me out again after that.

Guys can be real fuckers sometimes.

I look away from Asa and glance toward the board, catching up on all the lecture I just missed while I was lost in thought. I’m scribbling away at my notebook when my pen runs out of ink.

I shake it and try to write again, but it doesn’t work.

I didn’t bring my purse to class, so I don’t have an extra. I continue to try to make it work, only noticing that I’m making noise with the pen scratching at the paper when I feel Asa’s stare.

I don’t even have to look up. I can feel his eyes on me as he takes in my shitty clothes, my shitty nails, my shitty hair, my lack of makeup. I want to crawl under the desk and hide from his scrutiny, but it’s too late.

“Here.”

Shit.

I don’t want to look at him, but he’s reaching out with a pen in his hand, trying to give it to me. I immediately feel warmth spreading over me—from the surface of my skin, deep down to the pit of my stomach.