Saving Rain

by Kelsey Kingsley

I loved that Billy’s mom asked her son how school had been that day and how Billy answered in a bored kind of way, as if she asked him that question all the time and he was sick of hearing it. I loved that they all listened to each other and cared, and most of all, I loved that his parents had no idea what their kid was up to after school and on Saturdays. I loved that they couldn’t fathom the idea that he’d ever want to do shit like get high on little pink pills. But I also hated it just as much because I knew the truth. Billy was messed up, and I wished I knew how to stop it. I wished I could say something to his mom, I wished she knew the same things I did, but … To tell her about him would be to tell her about me—and I couldn’t afford to do that. I couldn’t afford the lack of money or the way I knew her disapproval and disgust would pierce my heart and make me bleed out on her living room floor. So, I said nothing about that. In fact, I said so very little about myself all night, afraid Billy’s mom might see between the lines and discover every dirty truth I tried to hide. Then, when it was time for me to leave, I thanked her repeatedly for dinner. She wrapped the rest of the meatloaf up and sent me home with it, insisting that I could stop by whenever I wanted, and then I wished for something else. Something I hadn’t wished for since I had been eight years old and in the middle of my one and only birthday party. I wish she were my mom instead.