All She Can Take

T H R E E

Sid's mother and sister hadn't left the house in over two weeks. They found what they need in the walls of that apartment. His lingering smell of him on his clothes. The recliner— still curved to the shape of him— where he watched cooking shows all night. Everything they needed to swaddle their grief into calm was in there. But it threatened to undo Sid. 

During that same two weeks, she found it hard to stay inside for more than two hours. Their grief was too demanding. Swirling around, all over everything. Tugged at her clothes and her memories until is seemed to crawl down her throat and take her air. She couldn't take it.

The move to the beautiful home in Westchester did not happen. They were still in their apartment even though they were supposed to be gone. Sid was pretty sure they were considered squatters at this point but the landlord was friendly with her dad and when he heard of the news of his passing he allowed them a grace period for mourning.

No one knew how long that would last but for now, her family at least had the comfort of falling apart in the place that brought them together. For now, family could come over and sit in that recliner of his and congregate in the kitchen where he'd pulled worn pots and pans from the cabinets to make phenomenal meals. And for now, Sid could escape into the streets of her neighborhood and away from the walls of sorrow that had been erected around her.

It was all she could do to clear her mind and feel like she was doing something. The whispers were killing her. People asking about her. Inquiring about what she saw and what she did that morning. What she didn't do. Everyone had their own opinions but they all remained quiet around her. Put on those pained and empathetic smiles once they saw that she was within earshot. She didn't want to deal with that and it wasn't helping anyway. So instead of looking for solace, she looked for answers. The guy who killed her father was still out there. Living and breathing in a whole body and that seemed unfair to her.

It was rare for her to go outside without believing she saw him ducking into a store, or leaning out of a car. Only to blink and realize it was just any other guy. No scar on his face. She even dreamed that she was the one who put the scar there. Before he was able to push her father into the tracks she leaped into action, producing a small blade from the pocket of her denim jacket and slashing him across the face. Protecting her father. Keeping him alive.

The Chicken Spot on the corner was the best place to sit and stake out the neighborhood. It rested at the busiest intersection of the neighborhood. From there she could sit at the single rickety plywood booth and watch everyone come and go. Ms. Rosa out to get her daily pint of tequila as soon as the liquor store opened at 11 AM. Mr. Williams waiting in front of his building with his 80-year-old mother, her swaying to the beat as he played The Temptations out loud on his small speaker at 1 PM. Passing the time while they wait for Access-a-ride to pick them up for her weekly dialysis appointment. Tracy leaving Marcus's house at 4 PM. Marcus's wife Lisa coming home at 5 PM.

But she hadn't seen him yet. Her patience was running out but she would come here every day and eat hot wings and fries until he surfaced. No one could stay hidden forever.

And then what? Sid didn't know but she trusted that her body would tell her what to do once he was in arms reach. Until then, she popped the last french fry into her mouth and tried to pass another hour without crying. Aiden would be here soon anyway. He was the only one who knew where she disappeared off to for hours. Her mother just seemed relieved to see her walk through the door in the evenings alive. Her phone dinged to life on the table in front of her. She peered at the screen.

Aiden: You still at the chicken joint?

She dusted her hands on her jeans and told him she was. He asked her that every day, she knew, hoping that one day she would tell him that she wasn't. That she had given up on spotting this phantom killer somewhere. He tried to convince her that maybe she had not seen him at all. Said that with trauma people tended to make up things. She didn't speak to him for two days after that until he apologized profusely and let her know that he was just trying to help. He was always trying to help and in his way he was. Aiden was a rock for her right now and she needed him there. He bounced in through the door a moment later and settled in the seat across from her.