Page 115 of The Other Side

I used to believe my life here was stuffed into a steel cage. There was nowhere for me to run. I continued to bang on the bars until my fists bled for someone to unlock the crate.

My head pokes back up, eyes landing on Brant’s face. In real time, his short-clipped hair lengthens just as his peppered jaw smooths out.

And I see the boy who freed me when I didn’t even realize it.

He gave me a playground in that cage. A field to run, dance, and laugh on. It might not have been a big space, but the smiles were. We came from nothing, so when we were finally granted a drop of joy, it felt like we could rule the entire world.

I miss those smiles.

They were real—never an illusion. I count the number of smiles that were worn on this side, and it’s not much less than the ones I shined on the other. I don’t know for sure though; it could even be a rough tie.

Brant’s long-sleeve shirt crinkles when he reaches out. He rests a palm on my shoulder, and I offer him a petite smile.

I plant my hand on top of his before we exit the cluster of trees. When we descend along the slope of the hill, the array of mobile homes leaks into view.

Brant’s arm snakes around my shoulders, and mine wraps around his lower back. We land on the sparse grass, only a few yards from our childhood homes.

A man wearing a baseball cap walks his daughter to their navy Honda Civic. He’s about six-foot, lanky under his weathered jeans and t-shirt as he holds his little girl’s hand.

I assume she’s the four-year-old Brant was referring to yesterday. Her hair cascades in spiral blonde curls over the back of her pink dress. Her eyes are dipped to her white sandals treading over the scattered grass.

“Daddy, a butterfly!”

Her small finger points to the fluttering creature.

“It’s pretty, huh?” her father says, scooping her up.

He plants a kiss on her cheek, and the little girl’s laugh rings through the daylight. Her grin widens just as her tiny arms wrap around her daddy’s neck.

She feels safe with him.

Indestructible.

The man opens the door of the car, and my eyes swell when he buckles her into a car seat.

I can’t look away.

The vision cracks and mends my heart simultaneously. It’s everything I ever wanted. It’s everything she ever prayed for from that house.

A house that’s finally a home.

Finally.

Brant’s palm massages my upper arm. He cuddles me tightly into him as the sun rays strengthen. A yellow shimmer spreads over the collection of long houses, and I lean my temple into Brant’s shoulder.

“I told you I can introduce you,” he says quietly. “The offer still stands.”

I shake my head, a tear plunging down my cheek. “I think I’ve seen everything I needed to see,” I whisper.

His lips graze the top of my head, and my fingers swat the wetness on my face. I smile, and my hand plants to the center of his chest.

“She’s okay,” he murmurs.

Another droplet descends.

He’s not referring to the little girl with blonde curls.

I bob my head, my muddled vision connecting to the black shutters of that window on the rear of the house.