Always Crew by Tijan

BREN

I was experiencing déjà vu, but not at the same time.

This time was different.

Another year, another time, and we’d been driving Alex Ryerson back.

Another month, another time and I’d be walking out of jail.

Another moment, another place and we’d be at the hospital getting someone patched up.

This time, it wasn’t us. It wasn’t our fight. We were heading home, except for a quick stop at the drive-thru for Jordan. He wanted food since we never got the burgers or chicken baskets from The Twister Sister.

Walking into our house, one after the other, we moved around the kitchen.

I grabbed the plates.

Cross grabbed the drinks and glasses.

Jordan went back outside, taking the food with him.

No words were spoken. None were needed. We all just knew.

I dipped in the bedroom, changing clothes and grabbing a blanket.

Cross was waiting for me at the door. He’d taken everything out, and I saw as we stepped outside that Jordan had the fire going. The patio table had been moved over, the stools moved aside to make room so we could eat next to the fire pit.

We all sat down.

Plates were passed out.

Food was portioned.

Drinks were poured.

We sat. We ate. We just were.

After the food was done, the wrappers put away in a garbage bag, and another round of drinks had been poured, Jordan was leaning forward. Elbows resting on his knees, he was staring into the fire.

He said, “I’m going to go to Roussou tomorrow.” The fire’s reflection was playing over his face, casting him in orange and red dark shadows. It lit up his eyes. They were somber. “I’m going to bring Zellman back.”

And even that made perfect sense.

We needed all of our crew together.