It works both ways

We moved away at the end of the school year and I remember thinking that if we moved, MM wouldn't know how to find me if she needed me. With MM gone, I lost interest in school and ended up having to go to summer school. So we had no choice, Mom had lost one of her jobs and I couldn't make enough money mowing lawns to help since I would be in school during the day. It sucked.

The transition wasn't all that bad. The neighborhood we moved into was one I was familiar with. My other grandma, my mom's mom, had lived there all my life. So I knew some of the kids and, even though they weren't anything like the kids I left behind, they were cool enough.
I hated the school, mostly because it wasn't the high school I wanted to go to, but the friends I made were alright. They weren't skaters like I was but they were metal heads. And ninth grade went by in a flash.

The summer after was going along great. There were no quarter pipes to ride but there were plenty of places to street skate. And although there wasn't a Teenage Wasteland, there was a park just off Southgate where all us stoners would hang out at at night. I found my groove and the drugs. I never did do shrooms again but I was introduced to acid.

The summer was half over when he showed up out of nowhere. I was home alone and pretty high when he knocked on the door. Stupidly, without even looking or asking I yelled for him to come in. I figured it was Frank or LG or Mooch, anyway. But when he walked in, I was in instant shock...and he wasn't alone.

"What the fuck! Chris?" I stood up so fast, I could've shot through the roof like a rocket.
He smiled that crazed smile I remembered from when he had me paralyzed on his bed. An icy chill ran through my veins.
"Hey, B. Its been a long time." He stepped closer to me and I stepped back. "This is my friend Steve. We were in the army together."

My eyes never left Chris. One thing I learned from my experience with him was to watch him carefully and to always be armed. I felt in my pocket for my blade and relaxed a little knowing it was there. But there was two of them and only one of me, I was doubting how much the knife would help.

"Chris, you need to get out of my house." I backed towards the kitchen trying to get closer to the phone.
"B, I've changed. And," he hung his head, "I came to apologize for what I did to you."
I put my hand on the phone as his friend stepped closer. "You said it, now get out."

I picked up the phone and was about to dial 911.

"Okay," he said, taking a step back. "Okay. I'll get out but...come outside with me. I just want to talk."
"Turn around, both of you, and walk out. I'll be out there in a minute."

They did as I said but I still didn't trust them. I called Frank and told him to stand outside and watch. He lived right across the street, so if anything started to happen, I knew he'd be right there to help. Frank agreed and I watched out the window until he made himself comfortable on his front lawn.

Steve went and sat on his motorcycle while Chris talked with me. Honestly, I didn't really give a shit about what he was saying. His apology meant nothing to me. He was going to rape me, did he think that I would just forgive and forget? He talked for a while and I just nodded along, letting everything go in one ear and out the other.

"Anyway, I wanted to give you something." He handed me a folder. "Don't look at it until I'm gone, please."
"Alright." I was planning on throwing whatever it was away as soon as I walked back in the house.

He walked up to me like he was going to give me a hug. My instant reaction was to push him away and knee him in the balls. I stiff armed him and brought my leg back. He stopped cold.

"No problem. I got it." He stepped back and nodded. "I really am sorry, B. And for what its worth, I love you. If you would just..."
"Not gonna happen, Chris."

With that, he said goodbye. He hopped on his motorcycle and they rode away. I waved to Frank and went back in the house. My heart was still pounding in my throat and I took a deep breath as I sat on the couch. I tossed the folder on the coffee table and when it hit, the drawings flew out.

For a moment, I just stared. I was stunned.

I got up and walked around the table, instantly falling to my knee's. I had no idea I was crying until a tear hit my hand. They were drawings of us, me and MM. At the ramp. On the curb. In the horse stall, when she was holding me. And there were photos. Us running back to base. Me teaching her how to skate. Her with her arm over my shoulder. Us.

He put his apology in writing and wrote his number on the bottom. I still didn't care.

That old emptiness that she left in me woke up. The emptiness that took so long to numb and hide. That old hurt, the pain, it tore through me like it was yesterday that she ran away. I went to my room and curled up in my bed. And cried like I had never let myself before.

I didn't know whether I should say, "Fuck you, Chris!" or "Thank you, Chris." I wasn't sure if he gave them to me so I would have the captured memories or if his intention was to rip me apart all over again.

Either way, it worked.