“Wait. It’s Monday. Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
She shoots me a sidelong glance, grinning. “Yeah, but I told my professors I had a family obligation.”
I raise a brow, not liking the sound of this. “An obligation? I’m an obligation?”
Annie rolls her eyes. “No. Of course not. I wanted to pick you up.”
“Because I could have taken the bus—”
“Drew,”she scolds. “C’mon. If the roles were reversed, would you want me taking the bus?”
I shudder at the thought. “What? Hell, no.” The idea of Annie going to prison for any reason is absurd and surprisingly painful. I wouldn’t be able to bear it. And I wouldn’t want her to take the bus on a good day.
“Good. I’m glad we agree on that. No buses for either of us,” she says, scoring a point I’m not exactly ready to concede, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Hey, did I tell you I changed my major?”
I blink in surprise. Annie is now a sophomore at UL. Last I knew, she was majoring in business. “No. Did you change your mind about finance?”
She nods. “Yeah. I switched to criminal justice. I want to go to law school,” she says, smiling proudly. “I think I want to be a public defender. And maybe even a judge one day.”
I feel like I’ve been hit in the chest. “Why?” I hear myself ask.
Annie gives a shocked laugh. “Because of you, silly! I want to help prisoners and ultimately work on sentencing reform. Do you know Louisiana has some of the toughest sentencing laws in the country?”
I do know, but I listen as she launches into an attack on the state’s mandatory sentencing laws, and I feel myself sink lower into my seat. I wanted to get her talking about something so I could lapse into silence beside her, listening and giving the occasional grunt, but I didn’t expect her to talk about this.
I want to argue that some people deserve to be locked up and forgotten about — myself among them — but then I think about A.J., and I clamp my mouth shut.
My sister, on the other hand, has been doing her homework, and for the rest of the drive, it’s all I hear about.
When we exit I-10 onto University Avenue, I find myself gripping the ceiling handle. We’ll be at Grandma Q’s in five minutes, and my gut feels like I’ve eaten steel wool.
The northside of Lafayette looks pretty much the same. The Cracker Barrel and the Motel 6 are still there, right off the exit, but now there’s a place called Home Slice where Acme Taco used to be.
I’ve never given a shit about any of this, but focusing on the scenery is easier than thinking about what awaits me. We drive beneath the underpass for the train tracks and come up at Four Corners, the worst major intersection in Lafayette. The LessPay motel is unchanged, and unfortunately still open. Everything looks the same, and that has the steel wool in my gut morphing to lead.
We turn onto Congress Street, and here absolutely nothing has changed. Aside from Lafayette Middle School, the busy street is lined with old houses and duplexes that look just as I remember them. And while these are a few steps above the Four Corners neighborhood, their sameness nearly suffocates me.
Annie makes a left onto St. Mary, and I start sweating.
“I’m so excited,” she says under her breath, completely oblivious to how close I am to puking. “Grandma’s going to just scream when she sees you.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her this isn’t what I want to hear right now.
When she turns right off St. Mary, I feel a jolt. A part of me expected her to keep going straight, cross St. Landry, and turn onto St. John. To Ma’s house. My old house.
But, of course, we’re not going there.
I haven’t seen that house since the night I was arrested. The night Anthony died. I never went back home after that.
I’m lost in a blur of memories when Annie makes a left onto St. Joseph Street. Grandma Q’s house is on the first block, the two-story creamy yellow house with the detached garage in the back yard. With my heart in my throat, I notice there are two cars in the driveway. I have no idea who they belong to.
It’s a Monday afternoon. People work. Would anyone in my family other than Annie take time away from their responsibilities to welcome me home?
“Who’s here?” I rasp as we pull into the driveway. Annie comes to a stop and kills the engine.
“Oh, that’s Aunt Josie’s car behind Grandma’s.” Annie says this before glancing over at me. Then her eyes go wide “Drew, you’re all sweaty. Are you okay?”