Dark clouds raced across the surface of the moon. Behind him the angry voices of Mr. Thorton and Christy faded. Fear pushed Joe to increase his speed. A damp wind blew. He cut across the docks. The water was dark and then light as the moon flickered over head. Men were working. They shouted curse words at each another. A truck pulled out and Joe watched it turn. He followed its lights. It led to a street. He looked both ways. Nothing coming. Hopefully this would lead him home. The cement was hard beneath him. Never had he run this fast or this desperately. His mind raced from question to question. What if Christy told her dad she was with him? What if she lied about what they had done? What if he lost his job and Mr. Thorton told his mother why?

  He passed through the warehouse district into a poor white neighborhood, then from there the houses changed to brick with two car garages. Home was still five or six miles away. His legs began to cramp up. He felt sick to his stomach. His lungs hurt, he couldn’t get enough air. Even though he didn’t want to, he had to slow down. As he eased his pace his stomach revolted. He stopped and vomited. It burned all the way up his throat.

  Through sweat blurred eyes he saw a lawn swing in a yard across the street. He limped over to it and sat down. The taste in his mouth was bad. He pulled out his wallet for a stick of gum, his fingers brushed against the condom. The unused condom. A fresh wave of nausea rocked him. He groaned and stuck his head between his knees and tried to breathe. This night had gone so wrong and Darryl would want every detail. The easiest thing to say was that Mr. Thorton had come along. That was the easiest, but it wasn’t the real reason. Even if Mr. Thorton hadn’t come along, it wouldn’t have happened. The truth was Christy was scary messed up and that scared him.

  Moments passed. Slowly his stomach settled down. He watch the clouds thicken over head as the night grew colder. When he glanced at his watch he felt sick again. It was later than he thought. If he missed curfew Mama would want to know why. He stood. With eyes turned to the sky he whispered, “God, I got to get home.” Before he could take a single step a little truck pulled into the drive. Joe froze. Whoever was in that truck might not like a black man in their yard. The truck door opened. There was a rapid click, click sound on the cement, then a sudden burst of angry noise exploded in the stillness. A blur of tiny white leapt through the air and ferociously attached itself to his pant leg. Joe gasped and jumped backwards slamming into the swing. It swung back and smacked him behind the knees. He shook his leg but the damn little dog wouldn’t let go.

  A familiar voice shouted, “Godzilla, down.”

  The dog didn’t listen. Morrow ran around the truck and scooped up the miniature demon. She wrapped her fingers around the dog’s snout. The creature’s eyes bulged out at Joe and it growled deep in its throat.

  He sputtered, “Damn, that scared the sh--, I mean crap out of me.”

  “Sorry.” She hesitated before she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I was out running,” which was the truth, “and I got a little winded. I stopped and rested on your swing. I hope that’s okay.”

  Morrow eyes took in his jeans, shirt and shoes. He was not dressed for running. She said, “Oh.”

  “I’ll be going now.”

  “I can take you home.”

  He looked at his watch. If she took him, he would be home in time. “Okay.”

  “I’ll go tell my mom.” Morrow went to the truck and opened the door for Joe. “Would you like something to drink.”

  Joe slid onto the seat. “Please, something to settle my stomach.”

  She went inside and returned with Godzilla and a Sprite. She handed him the soda. As Morrow drove him home, he slowly sipped the drink. She was usually pretty quiet and she didn’t break her trend. Joe was grateful, the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk. Between them, Godzilla sat, with his bulging liquid eyes fixed on Joe. Every time Joe moved the dog growled.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  They crossed into Joe’s neighborhood. Morrow said, “Tell me when to turn.”

  Joe pointed. “At Second Street.”

  The truck turned. The familiar sights of his neighborhood soothed Joe’s trouble mind and body. Coming home felt good. Morrow stopped her truck in front of his complex. When he climbed out she said, "You take care of yourself.”

  “I will. Thanks for the ride.”

  She smiled at him. She had the warmest and kindest smile he had ever seen, next to Mama’s. When Joe closed the door, Godzilla threw himself against the window and snarled at him. Then the dog started this awful yipping sound. Morrow pulled away. Godzilla plastered himself against the back window and did not take his eyes off Joe. The dog yapped until Morrow turned at the intersection. Stupid dog, but no body would mess with Morrow when she had Godzilla around. That mutt was way better than mace or pepper spray.

  Joe walked to the front door. Across the threshold wrapped in one of Mama’s old quilts was Cletus, the complex manager. Apparently Cletus was sleeping off another drunk. He lived in the apartment upstairs, and Lucille, his girlfriend, wouldn’t let him in the house when he had been drinking. Cletus growled in his sleep when Joe stepped over him.

  Bugs popped the porch light. Joe unlocked the door. Mama was sitting in her recliner with her Bible opened in her lap. The reading lamp cast a circle of warm yellow light around her. She looked at him and smiled. “Hi baby.” Her eyes scanned him. Joe was terrified of what she might divine from his appearance. Was make up smeared on him? He looked down at his shirt. He had worn something dark on purpose. She asked, “What you been doing Josie?”

  As Joe considered the answer to this question, he realized he did not have the energy to lie, but he also lacked the courage to be honest. There had to be something in between. Inspiration struck him. “I got the urge to go for a run and I got too far out. Morrow saw me and brought me home.”

  Mama’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not safe to be running around at night. I told you to go to the park or the track.” She paused then added, “Morrow lives an awful long way from here, doesn’t she?”

  Joe could see Mama’s mind working through her eyes. She was pinning him down, forcing him to fess up. Slowly he started, “I know. I just had to run. It was an accident, no, it was a miracle that I stopped right in front of Morrow’s house just as she was getting home. She offered me a ride only seconds after I prayed for a way to get home. God was watching over me, Mama, He really was.”

  Mama gave him a tolerant smile. “I don’t doubt that He was Joe, but don’t go courting disaster with the hope He will rescue you when you get in too deep.”

  Her words hit Joe hard. The past two nights he had been courting disaster and twice he had avoided it. Well hopefully he had, there was no way of knowing what Christy had told her dad.

  Mama closed her Bible and asked, “Why don’t you sit and visit with me a bit? We have barely seen each other all week.”

  This was the last thing he wanted. He needed to get to his room before he incriminated himself.

  “You okay, Son?”

  “I’m really tired. It’s been a long day. I just want to take a shower and go to bed. Could we talk tomorrow?”

  “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

  Joe nodded and headed for his room. Mama cleared her throat. She wanted a kiss good night. Really the kiss was more than just a kiss, it was a gauge Mama used to test if he had been drinking. Joe sent up a silent prayer that his breath did not still smell like puke or worst yet, Christy. As he pecked his mother’s cheek, he saw her nostril’s flair and she took in a breath, then she smiled up at him and said, “Pleasant dreams.”

  If only he would be so lucky.