His Frozen Heart Read Free

moved away, not the
parents.
    Awkwardly, I asked, “So how much rent
are we talking?”
    Mom smiled warmly. “We think $500 is
fair.”
    Five hundred dollars was a bargain.
Libby and I could easily swing $250 each. “So how soon are you
going? You said a couple weeks?”
    “ Dad starts his new job in
two weeks. We’re planning to drive down this weekend. We have to
find a house and get situated. No more Midwest winters! I can’t
wait.”
    “ Why didn’t you say
something before now? You’re just leaving?”
    Mom answered apologetically, “Dad
wasn’t sure the promotion was going to happen. He wouldn’t have
accepted the transfer without it. He found out last night. The
timing was right, and it was too good of an offer to turn
down.”
    Libby piped in as if to convince me
that this wasn’t the strangest event ever. “I’ll be working
full-time. I could pay half, maybe even more than half since you’re
going to school. It’ll be great. Just you and me.”
    It was sort of great, at least in the
beginning it was great. My parents moved away the Saturday after I
graduated. What few possessions Libby had were moved in Saturday
night. So began my adventures with Libby.

Chapter 2
     
    (21 months later)
    I had been standing in front of the
massive metal cabinet that doubled as a pantry in our back hallway.
I shoved the empty orange and yellow Ramen Noodle packaging aside,
only to find an empty macaroni and cheese packaging wadded up
behind it. My angry stomach growled in frustration.
    My eyes roved to the next shelf,
hoping to find another delicacy. The only semi-meal I could see was
rice and soy sauce . . . maybe. My stomach complained as my hands
slid the rice aside. Something, there had to be something in here
to eat. A lonely can of stewed tomatoes invited me to pick it up.
What were we thinking to have bought that?
    Onto the third shelf: two cans of
generic Dr. Pepper – I’d rather drink water. Backing away from the
pantry to get a better look, my hunger tried to take control of my
legs, imploring me to find something. Where was all the food? The
Ramen and mac and cheese should have lasted us another couple
days.
    It hit me – Doritos! I’d given Melinda
a ride to school. She was notorious for leaving half-eaten bags of
chips in the back seat of my car. Her bag still had to be
there.
    Not even bothering to grab a coat, I
launched myself off of our front porch, bounded down the steps in
front of our house, and sprinted thirty feet up the street to where
my car was parked. I had just parked it a couple hours before when
I got home from work at the restaurant, and it was already like a
deep freeze inside. The door complained as I swung it all the way
open. Tipping the seat forward, I found McDonald’s bags, Burger
King bags, empty pop cans, a couple empty cigarette packs – then I
saw it, the bright red corner of the Doritos bag peeked at me from
beneath all the crap on top of it.
    I freed the bag from the pile of
garbage. My fingers greedily dug into the bottom of the bag to find
nothing but crumbs. Telling myself there was no shame when hunger
was involved, I tipped the bag upside down, so I could free the few
slivers of chips. It was just enough to make my stomach complain
for more. The watchful eyes of Mrs. Bavcock stared at me through
the front window of her house.
    It was seriously cold; I hoped she
wouldn’t take the time to get her coat on to come outside. I tossed
the now completely empty bag back onto the floor of my car,
plastered an over-sized smile on my face, and waved at
her.
    Her congenial expression didn’t change
as her hand excitedly waved back at me through the frosty glass of
her front window. When the weather was decent and she saw me
anywhere near the street, she nearly tripped over herself to talk
to me. Conversations were always the same: she would tell me about
her cats. . . her grandchildren, her cats. . . her ailments, her
cats. Growing up, I’d always believed Mrs. Bavcock to