I carried our leftover dinner to the kitchen and dumped the plates into the trash. Once I returned to my room, I shut off my light and carefully climbed into the bed beside Kevin so I wouldn’t disturb him. I felt like I had just shut my eyes when Kevin shook me awake.
“Katelyn, I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay, I’ll let you pee outside,” I said groggily rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“No, I have to go to the bathroom,” he said plaintively as I switched on the light.
“Oh no,” I said, taking in his pinched pale face. “Okay, let me get your jacket,” I said, rushing into his room.
I hastily stuffed Kevin into his jacket, watching his face continue to pale even further. After dragging his stocking hat onto his head, I shrugged into my own jacket and helped him down the hall.
I gasped when I opened the front door and the wind whipped viciously around us. Kevin seemed oblivious to it, walking hunched over from what must have been severe stomach cramps. We were halfway across the street when he started vomiting. I rubbed his back trying to comfort him as he expelled all the contents from his belly.
“Do you still need the bathroom?” I asked anxiously, keeping an eye out for any approaching vehicles.
He nodded his head miserably.
“Okay, we’re almost there,” I said, herding him the rest of the way across the street.
It was only after we were standing directly in front of the gas station did the lack of lighting inside the building finally sink in. I groaned in dismay. I hadn’t even bothered to check the time before we had headed out.
“Katelyn,” Kevin moaned, looking at the dark building.
I felt hopeless as we stood in front of the empty building, shivering uncontrollably in our pajamas. After a moment of indecisiveness, I grabbed Kevin’s gloved hand and dragged him around the side of the building to the back where Old Man Wither’s small house was located. Not knowing what else to do, I knocked loudly on the front door. I felt incredibly guilty for waking him, but the pained look on Kevin’s face prompted me to knock again even louder.
The door pulled open abruptly before I could knock a third time and a blurry-eyed Mr. Wither stared bewildered at us.
“I’m sooooooo sorry to disturb you sir, but my brother is sick and your gas station is closed. Can he please use yours?” The words tumbled out of my lips in a rush. “I’m sorry,” I repeated as he stared at us for a moment blankly until Kevin moaned again.
“Yes, yes, come in,” he said, moving aside so we could step into his warm house.
He ushered Kevin to the bathroom, leaving me to stand awkwardly in the entryway. After a moment, he joined me.
“Come on in and have a seat,” he said, settling into a large mocha-colored leather recliner.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Wither,” I said, sitting on the edge of the sofa that matched the recliner. “I didn’t know what else to do,” I added.
“That’s fine, dear. Anytime you need it, you let me know. My Marge would have had my head for not offering it sooner. That goes for the shower too.”
I looked down at the floor uncomfortably, suddenly leery about seeking out the help of a man, no matter how kind he seemed.
“Katelyn, I mean while I’m working in the store,” he added, sensing my unease.
“Sorry,” I said as relief flowed through me. I hated that I was always initially skeptical of other people and often wondered if I would have turned out differently if I would have had a normal childhood. “That’s kind of you to offer,” I added.
“Anytime, my dear. Like I said, my Marge would have had my head for not offering sooner. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you two. You don’t even have to stop through the station if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Thanks,” I said again, overwhelmed at his generosity.
“Your mama, though, ain’t welcome as far as I'm concerned, crackin’ your head and all,” he said seriously.
I nodded my head, not bothering to deny it. I had known when he took care of me that he had seen through my lie.
“You could report her. Nowadays the law doesn’t take kindly to child beaters.”
“They would separate Kevin and me,” I replied, making my point clear.
“I reckon you’re right. They always seem to have the best of intentions, but don’t know how to pull their heads out of their butts long enough to do it right.”