Fanfiction: Origin - Part One
MONSTER
“Can I play, too?”
Three little girls, seated on the field at the outer edge of the playground, paused and turned their attention to the one whose meek voice had interrupted. Three pairs of cold eyes stared ruthlessly up, taking in the details of the newcomer, calmly calculating if she could become an acceptable playmate. Under their glares, the tiny, brown-haired girl shrank away slightly, hands nervously clutching the sides of her slightly worn blue dress. She glanced back towards the school, noticing the other students laughing and playing far away. Always so far away.
“What’s your name, new girl?” asked one girl with blonde hair.
“Faith Lehane.”
Muffled snickering. “What kind of a name is that?” another girl retorted, trying not to laugh. The other two were smiling, the wholly malicious, hateful smiles that only children are capable of.
“It’s what mommy…” Faith began.
“How old are you?” the final girl interrupted.
Faith, standing above the other girls, yet feeling entirely beneath them, placed her hands behind her back and stared at the ground. “Seven,” she quietly said, hoping she had answered correctly.
“You can only play with us if you’re eight,” the same girl replied, her face devoid of any expression as she coolly destroyed hope and self esteem. “I think I hear your mommy calling you, so go away.”
Humiliated, Faith turned away and slowly began heading back towards school, wiping at her sad, hazel eyes once she knew that the other girls were no longer staring at her. She would go inside and sit at her desk, silently waiting for recess to end. Moving through the hundreds of other children that crowded the playground of South Boston Elementary, Faith’s little hands trembled as she once more grabbed the sides of her dress, struggling to keep herself from crying. She knew the other kids would laugh at her if she did. Reaching the door to her classroom, Faith turned the handle and went inside, not bothering to look back at all she had never known and could never have. As she quietly sat down under the harsh fluorescent lights, the door closed, muting the painful sounds of laughter and excitement.
The year was 1989, and this was the first day of school, ushering in another nine months of social torture and anguish. Faith, a few months shy of her eighth birthday, had just entered second grade. Unlike last year, she had not received a new dress for the first day of school; the blue dress was a leftover from last year, but it was the nicest thing she had, even if it was old. The other kids all had new shoes, haircuts, and clothes, and Faith felt distinctly out of place. Her mom had promised her these things, but she had never received them. Shamefully, she considered her outfit: small black shoes, scuffed and used; the old, embarrassing blue dress; a blue ribbon that helped to keep her dark brown hair under control.
Sitting alone in the class, not daring to look out the window at the outside world, Faith put her head down on her desk and closed her eyes, wishing things were different.
Some time later, she was startled back to reality when she heard her name being called. Unsurprisingly, she found her teacher, Mrs. Matthews, leaning over her with a face full of concern. Middle-aged and attractive, with curly auburn hair and strikingly blue eyes, Mrs. Matthews had taught second grade for close to ten years, and knew when something wasn’t right with one of her students.
“Faith,” she began, moving back to sit on one of the desks across the aisle, “is everything okay?”
“Yes, Mrs. Matthews,” Faith automatically answered, immediately pushing her emotions and feelings deep down in her mind where they wouldn’t get her into trouble, like they always seemed to do at home.
Faith’s attempts at diverting the question didn’t fool Mrs. Matthews. She persisted, “Why were you in class all by yourself? Don’t you want to go play with the others?”
“I…I was tired,” the girl replied, her eyes begging the teacher not to question any further. “Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry if I made you mad.”
“I’m not mad, Faith.” Soothing, hushed words. “I just want to know if anything is bothering you, that’s all.”
“No, Mrs. Matthews,” came the reply. “Thank you for not being mad at me.” At this point, Faith broke eye contact and stared straight ahead at the chalkboard, hoping that her teacher wouldn’t ask any more questions. She didn’t want to lie because she liked Mrs. Matthews, but telling the truth about how she felt always seemed to end with punishment.
Mrs. Matthews, though she noticed the troubling repetition in Faith’s sentences, decided to leave her student alone for now. She made a mental note to keep an eye out for Faith’s wellbeing, and then she moved back to her desk to prepare a math lesson for the rest of the class, all of whom were still out at recess.
Faith said nothing else to any of the other students that day. She did her lessons promptly, answered Mrs. Matthews’ questions correctly, and paid close attention to the board so she would know the answers again tomorrow. She took scribbled notes in her small binder so she could study at night what the rest of the class would surely forget. Her attention never wavered from Mrs. Matthews and the board until the lunch bell rang at noon. As the rest of the class dutifully filed out to eat and play, Faith packed her notes into her purple backpack and continued to sit at her desk.
“Aren’t you going to go eat, Faith?” Mrs. Matthews asked from her desk, another look of concern marking her face.
Twisting around in her seat so she could face the teacher properly, Faith responded, “Mommy forgot to make me a lunch. I’ll have one tomorrow.”
“Does mommy forget often?” There was no hint of sarcasm or reproach, only a troubled tone of worry.
Faith’s mind worked hard to get around the question so she wouldn’t have to tell the truth. She said, “No, mommy was asleep this morning. I didn’t want to bother her.”
“I see. You can buy a lunch from the cafeteria if you like.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Oh. Well,” Mrs. Matthews said, digging into her purse, “I tell you what. I’ll buy you lunch today, all right? It’s important that you eat. Here.” She motioned for Faith to come and take the two dollars required to buy a cafeteria lunch.
Unsure of what to do, Faith warily stood up. This was a bad idea, and she knew it; her mom was not going to be pleased to find out that her daughter took money. But, on the other hand, Faith didn’t want to seem ungrateful, and she was very hungry, having missed breakfast, as well.
“Thank you, Mrs. Matthews. I’ll pay you back tomorrow, I promise.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” the teacher responded, glad she could help. “Now you run along to lunch, and try to have fun.”
“Thank you,” Faith repeated, and with the money firmly in her hand, she opened the door and wandered out to the cafeteria.
It was not a very nice cafeteria, but Faith didn’t know that, never having been exposed to anything else. She’d gone to kindergarten and first grade at S.B.E., and she found the cafeteria’s reliability to be reassuring. No matter when you went, the people there would give you food. Well, as long as you could pay for it. But she could pay for it, for today at least. Entering the line, she smiled as she saw the little milk cartons on display: white and chocolate, all lined up in neat rows, differentiated by color. Grabbing a tray, she waited for her turn and chose one of the chocolate cartons. Her mom discouraged her from drinking chocolate milk because it wasn’t as healthy as regular milk, but Faith liked the way it tasted. She put it dutifully on her tray, then turned her attention to the line so that she could choose in advance between the hot dishes offered. As she struggled to see around a tall boy ‘obviously a fourth grader’ she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Hi!” Faith heard a voice say as she struggled to turn around without dropping her milk container. When she finally maneuvered to face the owner of the voice, she saw a blonde-haired girl smiling back. Grey eyes shone at Faith, full of happiness, so unlike the eyes of the mean girls on the field. “I’m Kelly. What’s your name?”
Hesitating for a moment, lest she make another bad impression, Faith then conceded her name, preparing herself for rejection again. “I’m Faith.”
“Cool!” Kelly instantly replied. “I’ve never met anyone with that name. Wanna be friends?”
“Okay,” said Faith, glad that she’d made a friend. Kelly seemed nice.
“If you wanna be friends, we have to shake on it so it’s official.” Kelly put her tray on the ground and extended her hand. Faith mimicked her new friend’s motion, and the two girls shook hands. But afterwards, when Faith went down to pick up her tray, her milk slipped off and exploded on the floor, getting all over her shoes. She just stared at the mess, embarrassed, but also disappointed because now she wouldn’t have anything to drink. Kelly didn’t understand Faith’s reaction. “Why do you look so sad?”
“I won’t get to have milk now,” Faith said, still looking at the mess on the floor.
“Sure you can. Look.” With that, Kelly backtracked a few feet and retrieved another chocolate milk container, brining it back and placing it on Faith’s tray with a huge smile. “There you go. Milk.”
“You can’t do that!” Faith said, horrified. “That’s like stealing! I can’t pay for two!”
“You’re only buying one. The one on the floor doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Beats me. It’s like some rule or something. C’mon, the line’s moving.”
A few minutes later, the two girls were sitting together on one of the lunch tables, Kelly talking quite animatedly, Faith shyly replying. Much to Faith’s amazement, Kelly had been correct about the milk incident; the lunch ladies didn’t even seem to realize that Faith had dropped an additional carton, and if they did, they didn’t care. Now, as the two sat eating their hot sandwiches, Faith decided that her day wasn’t turning out so terribly after all. She had a new friend, a nice lunch, and later, her mom was coming to pick her up from school.
Kelly was still continuing with her lively question-and-answer session. “I’m eight. How old are you?”
“I’ll be eight in December,” Faith said, speaking around part of her sandwich as she tried to bite it.
“What day in December?” Kelly asked, regarding Faith with barely-restrained curiosity.
“My birthday’s December 14th. What’s yours?”
“Mine was last month: August 23rd,” Kelly replied, easily opening her milk carton with experienced hands. “So I’m really not that much older than you.” She took a sip of her milk. “Do you live in this area?” Faith nodded. “I’m not from around here. My daddy had to move here because of work or something like that, so mommy and I had to come, too. Do you like this school?”
Faith paused before replying. She had never really considered the concept that other schools might exist. This was all she’d ever known, and her mind had trouble thinking of anything else. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“It’s kinda ugly, don’t you think?” Motioning with her hand, Kelly made a sweeping gesture that took in the cafeteria, the dilapidated playground, and the aged classrooms. “My last school was prettier. Cleaner, too.”
“It’s all right,” Faith said. “I never really thought it was ugly. It looks like everything else in this area.”
Smiling, Kelly raised one of her eyebrows and broke out laughing. Faith, having no idea at all why her new friend would do such a thing, just smiled in return, her self-conscious nature surfacing.
“Someday, I’ll show you what I mean,” Kelly said, still smiling.
Faith was about to pose a question about this statement when the bell rang, signaling that everyone had to return to class for one last time before going home. Both girls cleaned up their trash and dumped it in the garbage can, putting the trays on top for the janitor to collect later.
“So what teacher do you have?” Kelly inquired, slowly filing out of the cafeteria with Faith and the other kids. “I don’t think I saw you in my class earlier.”
“I’m in Mrs. Matthews’ class.”
“Oh. I have Mr. Kendall. That’s too bad, but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Okay,” Faith said, already looking forward to it. “Bye.”
Kelly yelled a quick “See ya!” over her shoulder as she disappeared into class, and Faith went back into her own class, feeling much better than when she’d left. She made sure to thank Mrs. Matthews for her generosity once more, sat down at her desk with its little ‘My name is Faith’ nametag, and prepared to write down some extra notes in her binder.
A few short hours later, the first day of school was over.
As Faith stepped outside, she realized that she wasn’t dreading coming back to school tomorrow. Though she was an excellent student, the one thing she had always desired most was social acceptance, and that need had plagued her ever since kindergarten. So much of her time had been spent studying, trying to make her mom proud, that she found herself ill-equipped and defenseless when faced with a situation that didn’t involve addition or spelling. Rejection was one of those things that never got easier to deal with over time; the more it happened, the more Faith hurt inside, but now it looked as if things were taking a turn for the better. Mrs. Matthews was nice, Kelly was friendly and honest, and now she was going to get picked up from school, an extremely rare occurrence. Usually she had to walk home because her mom was unable to pay the bus fare, but Faith understood. There were more important things to buy than bus passes.
The kids gradually dispersed, all going their separate ways. Faith considered the dark, overcast sky as she made her way towards the parking lot, glad that she was not going to have to walk home in the gloom today. Considering what Kelly had said earlier, Faith turned her attention to the school, searching for the ugliness that her new pal had described. Sure, there were large, dark smudges all over the exterior of the classrooms, chipped brick walls, and a pitiful playground that included little more than a sandbox with some swings and a blacktop, but Faith had viewed the scene hundreds of times before. Repetition had blurred the school into something acceptable, even if it was far from perfect. The field, spotted with large patches of dirt in between sparse areas of unkempt grass, lay beyond the playground. It was lined with a tall, rusted chain link fence, a physical and psychological barrier against the slums beyond.
The southernmost portion of Boston in 1989 wasn’t necessarily an awful place to live, but every large city has portions that inevitably fall through the cracks, areas that are either forgotten by the politicians or simply neglected because the money and effort required to fix such areas run ludicrously high. Faith lived in such an area, the worst part of the city, but her innocent little mind was awed by it nonetheless. Her eyes saw not the sagging facades of broken homes, the shattered dreams, the graffiti-lined streets, but a towering cityscape that held surprises and adventures. Having walked home through the slums by herself for two years, Faith had already seen her share of danger and violence, but it bothered her significantly less than her social troubles at school. Sometimes, in the litter-filled alleyways, she was hassled by gangs, both male and female, in search of drug money or valuable items, but she was just a child of a poor mother, and thus had little to offer in such circumstances. A few of the gangs even knew her by name, and though they could occasionally give her a hard time, throwing taunts and insults, they never physically assaulted her. She was only seven years old, after all; too young for all but the most sadistic sex offenders, and the gangs were more interested in shooting each other and robbing pedestrians than fondling a second-grader. No profit to be had in the pain of one small girl.
Faith waited on a bench by the parking lot, considering none of this as the clouds drifted slowly by overhead. She watched kids clamor into cars, vans, and buses. Then she watched those same cars, vans, and buses leave. Surely her mom hadn’t forgotten her promise? No, of course not. Faith would wait, because she knew that even now, her mom must be driving their dilapidated, sputtering sedan towards the school. It was commonplace for her mom to sleep until noon, sleeping through a time when she should have been making Faith breakfast and a bag lunch, so Faith expressed little surprise when she went hungry for an entire day. But this was different. Her mom had promised.
But promises meant nothing.
After two hours of sitting on the bench, Faith gazed up at the tumultuous sky, and with a disappointed sigh, began to walk dejectedly home. Certainly, it wasn’t the first time that her mom had broken a promise, but Faith had been looking forward to getting picked up all day long, and now her mood inwardly shifted from contentment to sadness. A blank, neutral expression on her face gave nothing away as she trudged onward, eyes turned towards the cracked sidewalks, trying to concentrate on something-anything- other than her melancholy thoughts. The school was only a little over a mile and a half away from the cramped apartment where Faith and her mom lived, but today Faith felt that short distance stretch into an eternity. She passed dented garbage cans overflowing with trash, homeless people sleeping on the sidewalks, and dusty storefronts with gaudy signs reading ‘Adult XXX’ and ‘Liquor’. Everywhere she looked, she saw motionless, tired life.
With these thoughts swimming in her crowded head, Faith finally reached the door to her apartment complex. She rooted through her backpack until she found the key that would grant her access, and when she put it in the door, it opened with a horrid creak, the sound of neglected hinges in a neglected building. Glancing quickly over her shoulder to make sure no one was following, she then stepped inside and closed the door behind her, listening for the clicking sound that meant the lock had engaged properly. Always important to lock the door, her mom had told her countless times. Never know what kinds of people would come through that door if you left it open…
The rickety stairs sounded loudly even under Faith’s seven-year-old body, announcing her presence to the spiders that had made their homes in the darkened corners of the stairwell. Lights, sparsely distributed, cast a wan glow that did nothing to alleviate the murk, especially since windows were nowhere to be found. Glass had a tendency to get broken quickly in this part of town; better to use brick and wood, and screw the building’s aesthetics. Reaching the door with a plainly marked notice that read ‘3rd Floor’, Faith exited the stairwell and stepped into the hallway that would take her to the apartment. The hall was illuminated slightly better, mostly due to a window that had been placed at the farthest end, too far up from street-level for most vandals to break; it let in a view of the troubled sky through its streaked façade. Faith’s apartment, number 314, was located closest to this window, but she saw little value in the pointless act of gazing through a piece of glass at what one could easily see in detail outside. She figured that some of her neighbors must like it, though; it had to serve some sort of purpose besides being a dirty eyesore, surely.
Wandering down the hall, Faith reached her door and was forced to dig again through her backpack for another key. Alternately anticipating and fearing what would happen when she entered the apartment, she straightened her blue dress with tiny hands, made sure her hair ribbon was in place, put the key into the lock, turned it, and walked inside. Before she even considered the state of affairs in the living room, she immediately closed the door and locked it, remembering to return her key to its place in her backpack so it could be utilized again tomorrow. Then, and only then, did she turn around to regard the living room.
“Mommy?” she called, only half-expecting an answer. When none came, Faith set her backpack near the door and sat down on the torn couch, wondering where her mom was. The apartment itself was not large, and thus the few other rooms were miserably compact, especially the living room. The couch Faith was seated upon took up most of the space, with an old television lying on the floor a few feet away, wires running into the wall and over the carpet. Bare walls, accented by tiny cracks and chips in the off-white paint, created an atmosphere of exhaustion day in and day out, never relenting in their utterly tiresome sameness. She had wanted to buy some posters to pin to the walls, but she knew that money was a constant problem for her mom, and so she never pushed the issue, choosing boredom instead. A coffee table, low to the sickly-brown carpet, was in the process of collecting numerous stains and watermarks, as well as being home to a few disintegrating magazines from months past. They were coated in dust; neither Faith nor her mom read them anymore, but for some reason, the magazines persisted in staying on the table, though Faith didn’t know why. She didn’t dare throw them out lest her mom have some purpose for leaving them to rot there.
Farthest from the front door, on the other side of the living room, was the kitchen. Where the brown carpet stopped, the kitchen’s dirty linoleum began, leading to the round table where Faith and her mom ate meals occasionally. There were three chairs surrounding the table, but the third chair was only occupied sporadically at best, and that was how Faith preferred it. Considering the kitchen made her realize how hungry she was after waiting at school, so she got off the couch and went to search for something to eat. The fridge, upon opening, had nothing to offer except some milk, but that would have to suffice until her mom came back and went to the store. It was Monday, after all, and they usually bought new food at the beginning of every week.
Milk held firmly in her small hand, Faith let the refrigerator door close on its own and went over to the table, placing the milk there and grabbing a chair instead. The cupboards, at least the ones that didn’t hold pots and pans, had been built too high up for her to reach, so she was always forced to stand on a chair to reach the cups, bowls, and plates. Dragging the chair to the right place, she climbed up and opened the cupboard, selecting her favorite cup, one that had little yellow stars against a purple background. She’d made it herself last year during arts and crafts, and it was one of her most prized possessions. It said ‘Faith’s Cup’ along the top in clumsy, first-grade handwriting, but to Faith, it was perfect. Carefully stepping down off the chair after shutting the cupboard, she moved the chair back to its original position and poured herself some milk. Taking small sips, she replaced the milk and gazed up at the kitchen window as she drank. It was getting dark quickly outside; she couldn’t see to the ground because she wasn’t tall enough, but she could see the dark clouds quickly rolling by. It must be getting windy, she thought. Too dark in here.
Still holding her cup of milk, she went to the wall and flicked the light switch. A yellow glow immediately filled the kitchen, spilling over into the living room, whose light was controlled by a separate switch near the front door. She went and flicked that one on, too. Figuring that she had best be productive with her time, she retrieved her backpack and went back into the kitchen. If there was no food to be had, then she’d just have to study until her mom came back from wherever she was. There was only one problem, however: Faith, through her intense concentration at school, already knew the material. The first day was always a review of last year anyway, and she had done very well in first grade, coming through with high marks. Studying at this point would just be redundant, and certainly her mom would understand.
Faith finished off her milk, automatically washed and dried her cup, then put it back in the cupboard where it belonged. She gathered up her backpack once more and went into her room, flicking on its light switch as she did so, always preferring to be surrounded by light rather than having to worry about things lurking in the shadows. Like the rest of the apartment, Faith’s room was small, but it didn’t bother her. She’d grown up in it, and it was home, no matter how it looked. Her bed-little more than a mattress on the ground-was neatly made, and she put her backpack next to it. Over the years, her mom had given her a few posters for Christmas or her birthdays, and these were proudly displayed on the walls with multicolored pushpins. Additionally, she had a small dresser to put her assorted belongings in, as well as a walk-in closet that was mostly empty save for the few clothes she owned. There was a window, too, and Faith often spent a long time just staring out into the world, thinking thoughts far beyond her years. Tonight, as she turned to regard the street below, she couldn’t see much; the clouds obscured the moon, and the unreliable street lamps seemed to be broken yet again.
With a sigh of boredom, Faith walked back out into the living room. Her mom’s door was shut, as usual; Faith very rarely saw it open, and for her to be invited inside was an even rarer occasion. The only other things worthy of mention in the apartment were a storage closet, which held various cleaning items, and the single bathroom. Faith realized that it was not a very exciting place to live, but it had a roof, and it wasn’t so bad once you got used to it. Still hungry but unable to do anything about it, she flicked on the old black and white TV, found some cartoon reruns, and returned to the couch, intent on staying there until food arrived.
Half an hour later, as her interest began to wane in the colorless antics of the characters onscreen, her mom’s door opened, startling Faith into nearly falling off the couch. She hadn’t considered the possibility that her mom could be home, especially since she had not been greeted after being forced to walk back from her first day at school.
“Hi, mommy,” she said, trying her best to sound cheerful instead of disappointed. She didn’t move from the couch, however.
With that, her mother fairly stumbled into the living room. Faith was not surprised; she could sense the unmistakable scent of alcohol from where she was. It was a common occurrence. Faith didn’t understand the fascination with it-or even what alcohol actually was-but she studied her mom to make sure nothing else was wrong. At twenty-six years of age, Jesse Lehane was a very young mother in a decidedly old city. She’d given birth to Faith when she was nineteen without the benefit of a husband or even a reliable boyfriend. No one wanted anything to do with a pregnant girl, not in this place, so Jesse did what she could to get by. Her face, which bore a close resemblance to her daughter’s, carried the tired weight of a life gone by too quickly, of responsibilities too numerous to name, of too many things seen and done. She had a singularly tired beauty: dark, expressive brown eyes, straight brown hair, full lips, classically high cheekbones, all wrapped up in an expression of near-defeat. In a different, better world, she could’ve been so much more than what she’d turned out to be. Bad choices, lessons learned. Things that could never be taken back no matter how hard and desperately you wished. Her jeans, faded and torn in places, accented a figure that was attractive, and men too numerous to count had noticed it, but the concept of a girl with a child was not appealing, so Jesse stayed alone. Not out of her own choice, but because no one would have her.
Faith loved Jesse as only a child could, completely and absolutely. All her affection went towards her mother, but sometimes, she knew that this sentiment was not returned on Jesse’s part. Every once and while, some random thing would set Jesse off; some days, Jesse looked at her daughter’s face, so tragically pretty, so much like her own, and she hated Faith for reminding her of herself. Other times, their relationship was full of love and relatively happy days. Faith figured that the contrast was just something every child went through because her mom was the only parent she’d ever had, never having had the chance to meet her father. Occasionally, Jesse would bring men over to the apartment for a night or two, but none of these were ever referred to as being the long-lost father figure that Faith had never known. In general, Faith disliked such men, for even though her mother’s needs were beyond her understanding, she felt protective of the one person who had never abandoned her through all the years.
Jesse leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her white t-shirt. “Hey, Firecracker” she said, trying-and barely succeeding-in giving a smile. She’d called Faith the nickname for many years now, mostly due to Faith’s often horrendous energy level. For a child who ate little and spent most of her time at home studying, she rarely got tired and was always searching for something new to occupy her free hours. Especially books. Jesse had literally watched Faith read for hours at a time on the weekends, and she believed that any kid with that much motivation at such a young age must have a spark of something different inside her. So it was the ‘Firecracker’ nickname that stuck, usually interspersed sporadically between all the mentions of ‘Faith’. Every once in a great while, the two would go to the local park, a crumbling relic of what had once been a place for families and children. Now it was largely unsafe due to the gangs, drug dealers, and other miscreants, but Faith could also spend unbelievable amounts of time there, running on the grass and using the rusted playground equipment until Jesse finally dragged her home. “Did you have fun at your first day of school?”
Faith, still on the couch, decided that answering positively would make her mom happier than a negative response, so she said, “Yeah, I made a new friend. Her name is Kelly.”
“That’s nice,” Jesse replied, rubbing her temples.
“Are you okay, mommy?” Faith asked, getting up and flicking off the TV before she got yelled at for watching it instead of studying.
Jesse opened her eyes as her arms dropped down against her sides. “I’ll be fine. No trouble on the way home?”
Not wanting to remind her mother that a certain ride was supposed to have been provided, Faith again chose to simplify her answer. “No, no trouble. It was good. But…”
“What?”
“I had to borrow two dollars from my teacher today so I could eat lunch,” Faith admitted, unconsciously turning her eyes downward and putting her hands behind her back. “Can I please have two dollars to pay her back?” This said with as much courtesy as possible, with a hint of fear, as well.
With her head turned down, Faith didn’t see Jesse’s eyes narrow, but she could hear the change of tone. “What have I told you about taking money?” Jesse questioned, staying against the wall to avoid losing her composure. Money was difficult to come by, and Faith had to learn that every dollar borrowed meant fewer groceries. Alcohol, on the other hand, did not factor into Jesse’s equation. For her, it was as essential as water, and it could not be sacrificed for food. “If you wanted lunch, you could’ve made one for yourself, you know.”
“There’s no food in the fridge,” Faith replied, hoping that fact would settle the issue.
“Oh.” The tone had changed to one of near-embarrassment. “Sorry about that, Faith. I was…busy… today.”
Faith met her mother’s eyes once again, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Can we go shopping, then? Do we have enough money?” Usually, Jesse picked up food on her own time while Faith was at school, so a trip to the local mart was always a treat.
All anger forgotten as she saw Faith’s hopeful grin, Jesse laughed in spite of herself, her face showing a glimpse of better days. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll go shopping. Go get your coat.” Faith ran off to her room, grabbed her light grey jacket, zipped it up, and promptly returned, ready for an adventure. Jesse went back into her own room, snatched a handful of bills from inside her nightstand, and threw on her own tattered jacket. “We’re going to have to walk tonight, okay? I’m a bit…uh…tired. Don’t want to crash the car.”
This news didn’t diminish Faith’s excitement in the least; going shopping was a lot better than being picked up from school, at any rate. Not forgetting Faith’s request, Jesse gave her daughter two dollars to repay what she’d borrowed for lunch, figuring that the mistake could be forgiven on the first day of school. Happy that things were all right, Faith thanked her mom and put the money in her backpack for tomorrow.
Ready to go, Faith returned and offered her little hand. Jesse took it in her own, and mother and daughter left the apartment together.