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.
The streets had not become any more populated since Faith had walked home from school. Nighttime in south Boston was exponentially more dangerous than the daylight hours, and Faith was very aware of this fact, having had it drilled into her over the years through constant lectures by her mother. Gangs, sometimes hesitant to attack, rob, or rape during the day when they could be caught in the act, showed little of the same timidity after the sun went down. Alleyways, shrouded in impenetrable darkness that the weak streetlamps could not affect, made perfect hiding places for all sorts of illegal activities. Jesse had done her best over the years to know, if not befriend, the more powerful gangs out of fear for Faith’s wellbeing, and the gangs responded to certain favors very well, generally leaving-and even protecting-the duo on certain occasions. But nothing was ever certain in this town, and Jesse had instilled a sense of natural wariness in her daughter for the day when their luck would run dry. For all her anger and unhealthy ways of coping with life, Jesse did love her daughter, even though she sometimes wasn’t sure how to show it. She did what she could to make sure that Faith would have more a chance for success than she’d had. That was part of the reason why she pushed Faith so hard in school-related matters; Jesse hoped that with good grades, Faith might keep herself on the right track.
Cool air, blown onward by an early autumn breeze, pushed the clouds silently across the dark sky up above, easily forcing the moon into exile. Had there been enough trees, leaves would surely have joined the wind’s quiet march, but the city government had a severe shortage of funds, and this prevented the presence of trees or plants of any kind. South Boston was a concrete nightmare, unfettered by simple ornamentations that should have been commonplace. The city was diseased, choking slowly on its own stagnation. Things never really changed. They just gradually got worse.
A car drove noisily by, drowning out footfalls, stirring up garbage in the street. Jesse kept her head down, fearing a confrontation while Faith was by her side. Knowing gang members didn’t always equal protection from their harassment, although Jesse had usually been able to keep them away from Faith. As for Jesse herself…she could handle things on her own. Usually. She’d lived in this town long enough to realize that being someone’s lapdog was infinitely worse than standing up and taking a beating every once and while. Jesse took shit from no one, but she wasn’t above selling herself to pay the bills; it was a harmful paradox, one that sometimes caused her pride to get her into trouble that she’d had a hand in creating.
“Mommy.” Faith was tugging on Jesse’s hand and pointing. “We’re here.”
The local grocery/liquor store was a permanent feature, having existed through gang wars, robberies, and general poverty for years. How it could manage to stay open every hour of the day was anyone’s guess; only the legally insane would risk working the graveyard shift, but there was always someone willing to work it, no matter the potential consequences. Either way, it was a convenient way for Jesse to buy alcohol and condoms…or groceries for Faith…without spending too much money. The prices were reasonable, the selection decent, and the clerks jittery enough to the point where they would give no customer a hard time.
Faith, true to her nickname, ran ahead and grabbed a basket, ready to carry all the groceries. Jesse figured that if the store was on the top of a high-rise building, Faith would probably run up every single stair just for the sake of running. She was going to turn into a handful as she got older, Jesse was sure of it. Rolling her eyes, but with good intentions, she walked through the open doors, leaving the darkened street behind her. Faith was literally bouncing up and down with her basket, smiling as if she were going to Disneyland instead of shopping for food. The clerk eyed the pair with a nearly tangible paranoia, eyes twitching back and forth nervously. But Faith and Jesse had already gone down the first aisle, leaving the clerk to pace behind the register, occupied with his thoughts that spoke of Jesse being a serial killer and Faith being her tiny ninja sidekick from Japan. When they did not reappear to stab him with samurai swords, the clerk relaxed slightly, grabbed his cup of lukewarm coffee, and drank deeply.
“What’re we gonna get, mommy?” Faith asked, her basket swinging back and forth as she regarded the rows and rows of food with wide, appreciative eyes. Even though she wanted to snatch half the things she saw, Jesse would know what they needed, so Faith restrained herself and kept her hands in check.
Jesse pulled out her wallet and counted the bills she’d taken from home. Wallets were the way to go for any females in south Boston. They were much harder to steal than purses. “I guess we can get a little more than last week,” she said, shoving the wallet into her back pocket, “…to make sure that we don’t run out again. You want some macaroni and cheese, kiddo?”
This question met with lots of nodding and smiling on Faith’s part, so Jesse reached up, higher than her daughter could, and got a few boxes of the stuff. Faith liked it because it tasted good; Jesse liked it because it was cheap, and it was also fairly simple to make, meaning Faith could cook it herself if Jesse was occupied with something else. Faith gladly took the boxes from her mother and put them neatly into the basket, making sure to stack them side by side, right side up. Organization was not something that had been driven into her by her mom, unlike most of her habits. She’d simply learned that having things neat and orderly helped her in school, and she applied this knowledge to the rest of her activities, as well.
They continued along the tall aisles, Jesse directing Faith towards essential items such as milk, butter, and cereal. Some soup and canned fruit was added, along with plain pasta; the easier and cheaper the item, the more of it Jesse allowed Faith to grab. After a few minutes, Faith was clearly struggling with the basket, little as she was, so Jesse took it while her daughter fairly ran about, obviously amazed at the diversity of the potential meals before her eyes. Not that she had ever tasted most of them, but that only added to their mystique. For the rare occasions when she was allowed to go shopping, she always had a plethora of new questions to ask about the seemingly exotic cans and boxes.
“What’s shrimp?” Faith called from a few meters away, where she was appraising a blue can with large, red letters. “Is it good?”
Jesse gazed up the aisle at Faith as she reached for a little can of pasta sauce. “Nah, you wouldn’t like it, Firecracker. It’s kinda gross. All eyes and legs.”
“Eww.”
“Yeah.”
“How about…” Faith leaned in close to sound out the word. “…sardines?”
“You just love seafood in a can, huh?” Jesse gave a short laugh, grabbing Faith’s hand and leading her around to the next aisle. “Sardines are like…little fish that they shove together.”
“Fish in a can?”
“Uh-huh.”
Faith decided that sardines and shrimp weren’t worth any further explanation. If fish could be put into a can, who knew what else was sitting on the shelves? She made up her mind to stick with macaroni and cereal for the rest of her life.
As they walked down the final aisle, Jesse snatched a flask of whiskey and put it in the basket when Faith turned to examine some bright green bottles. No reason why Faith should have to learn about alcohol at seven, and Jesse, though she couldn’t help her habit, tried to protect her daughter from it.
“Ready to go?” The basket was almost completely full, and it held more groceries than Jesse usually allowed herself to purchase. But what the hell, she thought, Faith deserves a treat. “I think it’s almost your bedtime, isn’t it?”
Faith gave up trying to decipher the green bottles with their long, confusing words. “I guess so. But I’m not very tired.”
“You’re never tired,” Jesse said with a smile, wrapping one arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Let’s go home.”
Just as they were about to round the aisle and head towards the clerk, Jesse heard a commotion at the front of the store and instinctively pulled Faith back. She kept her arm around Faith while she quietly set the basket down and listened to what was going on. She couldn’t see anything because the tall aisle was effectively blocking her view, but she could hear angry words being exchanged.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble, man,” someone said. From the tremble in tone, Jesse figured the voice belonged to the jittery clerk.
“Then you’ll give me the fuckin’ money, punk,” a second man retorted. “Now let’s see it, or I blow your brains out the back of your head.” A click. Probably a gun being cocked.
It was obviously a robbery. Jesse had heard and seen enough of them to know that the best plan was to just sit still and let things work themselves out. Putting her index finger to her lips, she instructed Faith to stay silent, and they both sat down. Faith, without a hint of fear, just nodded, eager to please. For now, at least, the situation didn’t seem to be too out of control. The guy with the gun, though dangerous, sounded calm for the moment.
Jesse heard the register open, heard the clerk scrabbling to get all the money out.
“There, that’s all of it.”
A moment of silence.
“This is only fifty bucks, you little shit! Where’s the rest? Are you fuckin’ with me?!”
So much for being calm.
“No, man! That’s it, I swear!”
“Get the fuck over there!” the robber shouted. A second later, the clerk appeared directly in front of Jesse, apparently having been shoved across the front of the store. His eyes widened when he saw Jesse and Faith. Jesse desperately made motions with her hand, imploring the clerk to keep his attention on the robber. If that guy finds out we’re here, this is going from bad to worse! Look that way, you idiot!
“What are you staring at, asshole?”
God damn it, Jesse thought.
“Uh,” the clerk stammered, forcing his gaze back to the other man. “It’s…a spill. That’s all.” He was shaking, terrified of the gun, terrified of his own mortality.
“First you lie about the money,” the robber said, his voice normal once more. “Which I can understand.” Footsteps, getting louder, getting closer. “But two lies? Now you’re fucked!”
Jesse saw an arm swing out, one that held a silver revolver. The butt of the gun collided with the clerk’s head with a sickening crack, and he fell limply to the floor, where he lay still. Please no, please no. And the robber stepped out from behind the aisle, where he saw a woman and a girl huddled on the floor.
“What do we have here?” He was glaring down at the pair, his eyes darting back and forth with barely restrained mockery. Jesse saw that he was too tall; she couldn’t fight him and hope for a win, but she would throw herself at him if he threatened Faith. Muscles stretched out his white t-shirt, and a backwards hat on his head accented completely unremarkable features. He put the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Guess I have time for a little fun before I leave,” he laughed, approaching Jesse with outstretched arms.
“Fuck off, you piece of shit!” Jesse screamed, kicking out and pushing Faith away in the same instant. Her foot connected with the man’s stomach, but he only grinned, completely unhurt by the attack. “I said fuck off!” She kicked out again, but the robber caught her foot in his large hands.
“Shut up, bitch, before I…”
His reply was cut short by a green and gray blur that hurled itself across Jesse’s field of vision, knocking the robber to the floor. Not caring what it was, she immediately crawled over to Faith, who was sitting on the floor, absolutely enraptured with the drama unfolding before her.
This was way better than TV.
Hugging her daughter close, Jesse spared a glance back to the front of the store, where the would-be robber and rapist was getting to his feet.
“Hope you’re ready to die for that!” he snarled, reaching for his gun, murder in his eyes.
But before his hand got halfway there, the newcomer lashed out with a kick that caught the robber directly in the chest, sending him sprawling back to the ground. Jesse saw that her savior, a young man dressed in green camouflage pants and a light gray t-shirt with black letters that said U.S.A.F., was more than a match for her antagonist. He spared a quick glance down the aisle, flashed a fleeting smile, and turned his attention back to the fight. Moving in close as the robber struggled to get up, the unknown man reached down, deftly recovered the gun, and then threw it across the store. But he oddly did not press his advantage, instead choosing to back up and invite the robber to fight. Having no other choice, the robber got up and rushed his assailant, who was more than ready. Jesse winced as the robber got a knee in the stomach for his troubles, then an uppercut to his face. Blood sprayed up as his head rocked back, painting the floor with drops of crimson, but he miraculously kept from falling. He did finally fall a moment later when the guy in fatigues smashed an elbow into his face, shattering the fragile bone structure. A gurgled scream of pain was uttered as the defeated robber collapsed. His head smacked loudly on the tile floor when he fell, and he didn’t get up again.
“Hey,” fatigue-guy called, standing over his fallen opponent. “Are you two all right?”
Faith was already on her feet and beginning to walk towards the carnage when Jesse grabbed her arm, pulling her back once more. Kid’s got too much curiosity for her own good. Jesse struggled up, still holding Faith’s arm.
“Yeah,” she answered, “we’re okay.” She picked up the basket full of groceries and allowed Faith to drag her forward. Up close, the violence was even worse: blood was everywhere, coating clothing, the floor, and some food on the shelves. The clerk, with a nasty gash near his temple, got off light compared to the would-be robber, whose entire face had been precisely demolished. Luckily for him, he was unconscious; otherwise the store would’ve been filled with sounds of agony. Regarding the man in fatigues once more, Jesse realized he was probably even younger than she was. His black hair was cut short, apparently to adhere to military regulations. He stood nearly half a foot taller than Jesse’s 5’6”, and she immediately took a liking to his cleanly-shaven, attractive features. “Who are you, anyway? And thanks, by the way.”
He extended his hand promptly. “I’m Chris, and you’re welcome.” Though his voice was not unique in the least, Jesse liked it, and offered her own hand in return.
“Jesse. This,” she said, motioning towards her daughter, who was still straining to get closer to the bodies, “is Faith. Faith, come and say thank you to Chris for saving us.”
Faith stopped struggling to wriggle free of her mother’s grasp for a moment and turned to face Chris. She tilted her head back to compensate for the height difference, uttered a quick, “Thank you, Chris,” and then proceeded to finally break free and approach the blood-spattered spectacle.
Chris wiped some sweat off his forehead and regarded Faith with an odd look. “Seems like a nice kid. Got a lot of spunk. She’s your daughter, I take it?”
“Yeah. She’s seven. I…”
“Hold on for a sec, I have to check the cashier.”
Faith moved politely out of the way when Chris came over to the clerk. She used it as an excuse to go examine the robber’s prone form while Chris examined the clerk’s head.
“He’ll be fine,” Chris announced, more to himself than anyone else. “Hey. Hey, buddy.” A few light shakes later, and the clerk’s eyes woozily fluttered open. “Can you sit up?”
“Huh? Where’s my coffee?”
Chris, startled by such a strange response, glanced over his shoulder at Jesse, who went behind the counter and retrieved the requested cup. It was nearly cold, but she handed it over regardless. The clerk propped himself up against a shelf, took a tentative sip, made a face, then drank the rest of the contents in one gulp.
“Thanks. I feel like shit,” he told everyone and no one, gingerly poking the side of his head.
“You took a nasty hit,” Jesse said.
The clerk, as if suddenly remembering the incident, turned his eyes to where Faith was prodding the robber with one of her tiny feet.
He asked, “But you guys kicked his ass, right?”
“Something like that,” Chris responded, suppressing a laugh.
“Good. Fucker deserved it.”
Jesse couldn’t agree more. Neither could Faith.
“Yeah, fucker!” the seven-year-old said, giving the robber another tiny kick. She grinned, showing white teeth.
“Faith!” Horrified and somewhat embarrassed that Faith would say something rude in front of Chris, Jesse stormed over and led her daughter away from the still-unconscious man. “What have I told you about language like that? I’m sorry, Chris.”
But Chris was laughing. “I’ve heard worse, believe me.” He knelt down in front of Faith. “Plus, he is a fucker, right?”
Faith nodded vigorously in response.
Jesse rolled her eyes.
“Almost time for you to get home and into bed, anyways,” she sighed. “What a night. Where can I pay for these?” she questioned the clerk, holding up her basket.
“It’s on the house, lady. Army guy, you go grab some stuff, too. I owe you guys.”
Chris hauled the clerk to his feet. “Thanks, man. Pay for officers in the USAF ain’t what it used to be.”
“Hey, no worries,” the clerk said, dusting himself off. “It’s the least I can do. I’ll call the cops, get them to sort this thing out.” He moved behind the counter, grabbed a large paper bag, and began stuffing Jesse’s groceries inside.
Momentarily disappearing down an aisle, Chris returned a moment later carrying a bottle of rum, some pasta, and paper plates.
“That all you want?” The clerk was clearly confused. Booze and noodles wasn’t exactly the most nutritious of meals.
“That’s it.”
The clerk shrugged and put the items into another bag. “You folks have a good night.”
“Thanks,” the two adults said simultaneously. Faith had found some new object to attract her curiosity and wasn’t paying attention.
Outside, a somewhat awkward silence ensued as Chris and Jesse struggled to continue their conversation.
“So…what’s USAF?” Jesse finally said. “Is it like the army?”
“United States Air Force.” Chris gave a mock salute with his free hand. “At your service.”
“You fly planes?”
“Helicopters, actually. I’m a Lieutenant for a helicopter squadron at Westover Air Reserve Base. Heard of it?”
Jesse took a moment to reply. “The place about an hour from Boston?”
“That’s the one.” Chris seemed happy that she knew the base. “I’m on leave right now.”
“Why come here, though?” Jesse asked, incredulous. Who the hell would choose to come to this part of Boston? There were much nicer areas in the northern district.
Chris gave a nonchalant shrug. “Aimless driving?”
“I see. So what do you think of our little slice of paradise?” Barely concealed sarcasm.
“Uh…” Chris pretended to look around, as if he’d never seen any of his surroundings before. “It’s five by five, I guess.”
Before Jesse could get a sentence in, Faith interrupted.
“What’s that? What’s ‘five by five’ mean?” she asked, staring unflinchingly up at Chris.
“Whoa, calm down,” he laughed. “I guess not everyone knows pilot-speak. You know how radios work?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, pilots and air traffic personnel rate radio signals. One is the worst, and five is the best,” Chris explained. “So when I say ‘five by five’, I mean that things are good.”
“Okay.” Faith paused. “Thank you.”
“Sometimes I just forget I’m out in the real world instead of at the base,” he rather sheepishly told Jesse.
Jesse made a decision. “Would you want to come have dinner with us?” The question seemed to appear from nowhere, but she’d been working up to it for a few minutes. Good guys were hard to find, especially in this area, and she intended to make sure that Chris was hers. He’d only been courteous and courageous so far; Jesse figured he was the best thing to happen to her in a long while.
“I’d love to,” he said. “Where do you live?”
“This way, about half a mile.”
“Let me grab your bag, then.”
Almost blushing as Chris took the bag, Jesse reached for Faith’s hand once more, and the trio began walking.
On the walk home, Jesse learned a few more things about Chris. Originally from Cape Cod, an area of Massachusetts that was significantly southward of Boston, Chris had entered the Air Force straight out of high school. He was twenty-five, a year younger than Jesse, but he knew a lot more than her, at least in terms of geography, because he’d been to most of the nearby states. One of the perks about being a pilot, he’d said. His parents still lived in Cape Cod, but he rarely visited, a sentiment that Jesse could relate to. Her own parents had kicked her out when she became pregnant, and she’d never stopped hating them for it. Nearly everyone she had ever known had scorned or abandoned her for being a single mother, but oddly, Chris didn’t seem at all phased about Faith. This fact only reinforced Jesse’s belief that she’d finally gotten some good luck.
The adults cooked the modest meal while Faith watched some cartoons. When the preparation was done, Jesse called her to the table, where she immediately set upon her plate of pasta like it was the first meal she’d had in months. She spoke little during the meal, instead concentrating on her food and listening to what her mom and Chris were talking about.
“Do you have a last name, flyboy?” Jesse joked, putting some salt on her noodles.
“Yeah, but you have to promise not to laugh.” Chris, who had been in the process of shoveling pasta into his mouth, stopped in mid-chew.
“I promise.”
“It’s…Amoretti,” Chris confessed, as if he had just rid himself of a terrible secret.
Perplexed, Jesse openly stared. “Why would I laugh at that?”
Chris gave one of his constant shrugs. “It’s just an unusual last name.” He pointed to his pitch-black hair. “Only an Italian name could go with hair like this.”
“Well I think it’s a pretty name,” Jesse said.
“And you have a last name, as well, I assume?”
“Lehane.”
Chris paused, as if considering the name. “I think yours is prettier than mine,” he admitted, winking across the table. Jesse found herself blushing for the second time that night. “So, Faith, what grade are you in?” he asked, trying to bring the girl into the conversation so she didn’t feel left out.
Having finished her meal minutes ago, Faith had been regarding the two adults. “Second grade,” she said. “I started today.”
“Do you like it?”
Faith responded immediately and without much emotion. “It’s fine.”
“Just fine?” Chris raised one of his eyebrows.
Confused, Faith looked towards her mother, then back at Chris. “It’s okay.” She didn’t have any other words to describe school. It wasn’t “good” or “great”. “Fine” seemed to encompass the meaning she was searching for, but she quickly ran out of adjectives when prodded for more. “I mean…it’s…”
“Hey, that’s all right,” Chris broke in, saving Faith from struggling for more descriptive terms. “I never liked school much, either.”
Grateful that her interrogation was over, Faith yawned, thanked Chris and her mom for dinner, dutifully cleaned her own plate, then wandered off to brush her teeth and get ready for bed.
“She’s certainly responsible, if not too enthusiastic about school,” Chris told Jesse as they were cleaning up the rest of the table.
“She doesn’t have many friends,” Jesse conceded. She turned on the sink, running the hot water. “But Faith’s smart; always gets A’s on everything she does. I just worry that she isn’t very happy most of the time. I mean, look at the life I’ve given her. Not much to brag about, you know?”
“Hey, it’s better than what would’ve happened to her had she been placed in an orphanage or something.” Chris took over at the sink and washed the plates and silverware as he spoke. “Her life could be a lot worse, Jesse, and I think you’ve done a great job so far. Single moms have it rough, but Faith’s a smart little girl, like you said. Cute, too, like her mom.” He smiled.
“What a suck-up you are,” Jesse said in return, giving him a playful shove. He stuck out his tongue and made a face. “Oh, so is that how it’s gonna be, Mr. Air Force?”
“Yep. You know what we need, though?”
Jesse put on a dumbfounded face. “No, but tell me of this amazing secret.”
“Some of this!” Walking over the partially-full grocery bags, he retrieved his bottle of rum and held it up, obviously excited.
“Don’t let Faith see that,” Jesse warned, striding over and putting it back in the bag. “But grab some glasses; we’ll go to my room.” Chris obliged, quickly finding them in one of the cupboards. The two of them flicked off the kitchen light and headed for Jesse’s bedroom.
“Good night, Faith. Sleep tight, okay?”
In the bathroom, Faith momentarily stopped brushing her teeth to reply to her mother.
“Good night, mommy,” she said. Chris added something, so Faith felt obliged to answer back. “Good night, Chris.” She heard the door shut and lock.
It was weird to have someone else in the apartment, Faith decided. She didn’t like it very much. Of course, she had seen lots of other men…and even a few women…come through during her seven years, so Chris’s arrival wasn’t necessarily something she was unaccustomed to, but something about him was different. Chris was nice, and he had helped at the store, but something about him was too open, too ready to please. Faith had had conversations with lots of grown-ups in Boston, and none of them acted like Chris did. Even the other kids at school had a hardness about them, a natural wariness that Chris lacked. Not once had she heard him say anything that could be construed as mean, or even remotely ambiguous, and that in itself was downright odd.
Not knowing what to think of this new development in her life, Faith finished brushing her teeth and washed her face. She turned off the bathroom light, went to her room, shut the door, and got into her pajamas. It was getting cold outside again. Autumn and winter in Boston always served up some chilly weather, and Faith had never gotten used to it. She liked the pleasant springs and warm summers, when she could run and play without worrying about snow or frigid breezes. But weather was just one of those things that she couldn’t change, so she gave a last look outside to make sure that nothing exciting was happening, sighed to herself, and set her small alarm clock for six o’clock tomorrow morning. A few seconds later, she’d turned off the light and tucked herself snuggly in under the covers, grateful for their warmth and imagined protection.
Hours later, she woke up, but when she sleepily glanced at the clock, it proclaimed the time to be two in the morning. Disappointed that she’d woken up for no apparent reason, she sat up and ran a hand through her hair as she yawned. Realizing that she was thirsty, she yawned again and shoved her covers away. Making her way to the door without bothering to turn on the light, she opened it and went towards the kitchen, intending to get a drink of water. She let out an involuntary gasp when her feet came in contact with the freezing linoleum, immediately wishing she had remembered to grab some socks. Firm in her resolve for water, she braved the rest of the distance to the sink, where she found some clean cups from dinner drying, upside down so that the water would run out and down the drain.
As she was reaching into the sink for one of the cups, the door to her mom’s room creaked open, nearly causing Faith to drop the cup she’d selected. It wasn’t that the dark scared Faith, because she was afraid of very few things. But in the past, bad things had happened very late at night, bad things that appeared to arise from the smell of alcohol that Faith had noticed on her mom earlier. Sometimes, when that smell was around, Jesse was like a different person, belligerent and overly inclined to use harsh words, or even physical punishment. So Faith feared not the dark, but the things that the darkness was concealing. It could be nothing; it could be a monster that looked like her mother.
It was Chris.
Nevertheless, she kept her gaze on him, somehow realizing that something wasn’t right even before she saw him stagger into the eerily shifting moonlight that poured through the kitchen window. Not privy to his thoughts, Faith didn’t know whether to stand still, silently creep away, or begin a conversation. She watched as he bumped into the kitchen table; after he nearly fell in shock, he put one of his hands out to steady himself.
Then Faith knew what was wrong. It was that smell again.
As Chris slowly came closer, she could almost taste it in the air, nearly palpable in its excess. Where was her mom? Struggling to come to a decision, tiny hands clutching her cup, cold feet forgotten, Faith stood her ground at the sink.
Tentatively, lest she anger him, she spoke. “Hi, Chris.” Quiet, unobtrusive.
There was no response, only Chris’s incoherent mumbling as he continued to sway towards the sink. Close enough to the moonlight that Faith could now make out his face, she saw that his eyes weren’t even focused on her at all, or on anything else, for that matter. She checked over her shoulder to make sure that he wasn’t glaring at something she’d missed, but there was only the wall and the window. Full of confusion and anxious to be gone, Faith sidestepped to the left, hoping to make a wide circle and disappear into her room once more. The water could wait till morning.
Suddenly, Chris blurted out a slurred sentence, immediately halting Faith’s progress. “Who are you?” he asked, turning his head slightly to regard Faith. Moonlight glinted off his eyes, which had turned absolutely, utterly black. There was none of his earlier warmth and seeming kindness in the stare, and Faith unconsciously retreated until her back was against the counter. “Who…are…you?” he repeated, taking a step forward.
“F-Faith,” she stammered, trying to keep from crying for her mother. At this hour, Jesse might be worse to deal with than Chris.
“How…interesting,” Chris returned, coming even closer. He was now only a few short feet from Faith. “‘Cause I don’t know anyone by that name. You break into this apartment, little girl?”
“I-I live here,” Faith responded, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. She felt small, insignificant. She wanted to disappear. “With mommy.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Chris forcefully said, in a quiet, menacing tone. He advanced until he was standing directly over Faith, forcing her to gaze straight up into his nearly inhuman face.
Faith felt as if she’d been dealt a physical blow. How could he not know who she was? How could he not know that she lived here? The darkness was total and complete; Chris’s body blocked the moonlight, casting an immense and inescapable shadow over Faith. In the absence of light, Faith wanted to curl up on the floor and cower, but she continued standing although her resolve was faltering.
She tried to begin again, almost on the verge of tears. In her heart, she knew that she was right; she had to tell the truth. “B-but I’m not lyin’”
Faith never saw Chris’ hand coming toward her in the darkness. One moment, she was talking; the next, she was on the ground, her head filled not with thoughts, but with pain. The cup she’d been holding spun idly on the ground.
“What did I tell you about lying?”
Though she heard the question, Faith found that she couldn’t respond to it nor figure out its source. Her eyes, closed tightly in an attempt to make her head cease stinging, didn’t see Chris bend down over her, but she sensed it.
All pretense of courage gone, desperately wishing the entire night had been a bad dream, Faith did the only thing she could do. She cried for help. But as soon as she began calling to Jesse, Chris silenced her.
“Shut the fuck up!” he roared, all pretense of restraint gone, as if it had never existed in the first place. “Shut up!” He roughly grabbed Faith’s hair, pulling it savagely in an attempt to make her obey, but she would not be silenced. Not now, not ever.
“Mommy!” she screamed through the pain. Her entire world felt as if was being torn apart. “Mommy!”
Chris was relentless, his curses struggling to drown out Faith’s pleas for aid.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Jesse cried as she ran out of her bedroom, having been awakened by Faith’s screams and Chris’ threats. Without thinking, she leapt at Chris, trying to wrap her arms around his neck. She didn’t know if it would do any harm, but the attack had its intended effect when Chris let go of Faith. “You asshole!”
Jesse hung on as Chris struggled to his feet, teetering all over the darkened kitchen as he tried to regain his equilibrium. On the floor, tears streaming from her eyes, Faith watched helplessly as Chris threw her mom over his shoulder to the floor, where she landed heavily.
“Bitch!” he shouted, crouching down on his knees and holding Jesse’s face against the floor with both hands. “See what happens when you fuck with me?! See what happens!”
Faith could hear her mother whimpering as Chris pressed harder. At that moment, Faith felt hatred for the first time in her young life. Physical violence, she had experienced before. She had known pain, anguish, loneliness, alienation, and neglect. But never before had she hated anyone. Not until now. She fought her way to her hands and knees despite the abuse she’d taken, trying to stifle her tears, intending to crawl over and get Chris’s attention so he would leave her mother alone.
Without warning, Chris stood up from where he was kneeling, right at the very edge of the kitchen. He stormed into Jesse’s room with no explanation, no hint as to why he had relented. Faith heard things breaking, heard more cursing and yelling. Jesse quickly picked herself off the floor and made her way over to Faith, hugging her daughter close. An instant later, Chris reentered the living room, roughly putting on his shoes.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” Jesse screamed from the floor, where she and Faith were pressed against the cupboards. “Now!”
“Fuck you, bitch! You’re lucky you’re not dead!”
With that, Chris angrily strode across the living room, flung open the door, and walked into the hallway. Faith heard his footsteps slowly disappear into the night. The apartment became silent once more, except for the sounds of Faith crying. Her face hurt, as did her head, from where Chris had yanked her hair. But more than the pain, she felt an all-encompassing hatred. Faith hated Chris so much for hurting her and her mom. All she’d wanted was some water…
Jesse held her daughter tightly, and Faith wrapped her little arms around her mother.
The unfeeling moonlight, cascading through the window as it always had, cast the kitchen and the night’s awful events into Faith’s memory, where she would never be able to forget them.
“Faith, what happened?”
Directing her face towards Mrs. Matthews, Faith did as her mom had instructed.
“I fell,” she said, pointing to the dark bruise that had developed on the left side of her face. “I hit my face on the floor.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” the teacher asked, not convinced that a mere fall could produce such a mark. “You can go to the nurse’s office if you like.”
Faith let her eyes look towards the floor as she gave the most melancholy smile Mrs. Matthews had ever seen from a child so young.
“Thanks, Mrs. Matthews, but I’m okay.” Faith placed her backpack on the ground, unzipping a portion and reaching her hand inside. “Here’s the money to pay you back for yesterday. Thanks again.” She placed two dollars on the teacher’s desk, and without further prompting, made her way through the maze of desks, found her own, and sat down. She stared straight ahead at the board, her gaze never faltering.
School didn’t start for another ten minutes, but Faith had arrived early, explaining that she had been dropped off by her mom. Mrs. Matthews sighed and collected the money into her purse. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen child abuse, and she knew it was far from the last, but it broke her heart to see a girl of Faith’s caliber treated in such a manner. Already, Faith had shown only politeness and an eagerness to learn; despite that, however, she was being punished by someone at home. Having seen too many instances of similar cases at South Boston Elementary, Mrs. Matthews made a silent promise that she would continue watch out for Faith. She wouldn’t see another promising student be swallowed by violence and mistreatment.
Faith continued to sit quietly at her desk, awaiting the arrival of the other children, but her thoughts weren’t on the upcoming school day. As much as she tried to stay focused on the day ahead of her, her thoughts kept straying back to what had happened. A bitterness the likes of which she had never known filled her to the breaking point, and it required all of her self composure and patience to simply appear as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
She found herself only looking forward to two things: talking with Kelly, and more importantly, never seeing Chris ever again.
Dampening down her stray feelings, Faith managed to pay attention to the lesson with her usual level of intensity until the bell for recess rang, allowing her to file out of the classroom with the other kids, flashing an appreciative smile at Mrs. Matthews on her way out. Once outside, she anxiously proceeded to search for Kelly, slightly worried that her new friend was just a dream. Heart sinking by the second, she almost gave up, but then she spied Kelly wading through the other kids, making a beeline straight for Faith’s position.
“Hi!” Kelly stated with her usual perkiness, but her tone immediately changed upon getting closer to Faith. “Oh my God, what happened?”
Faced with a dilemma, Faith quickly considered her options before replying. Telling Mrs. Matthews a little lie was one thing; Kelly, on the other hand, was Faith’s only companion at school. Should she lie again, or just tell the truth?
“I…uh…it’s nothing,” Faith finally said.
Kelly leaned in closer, her grey eyes flitting back and forth as she examined the bruise. “Looks like you got hit or something,” Kelly decided.
Dumbstruck, Faith had no response. How had Kelly known? Thinking quickly, she struggled to come up with a suitable excuse.
“No, I fell.” Inwardly, Faith groaned. Not one of her best lines.
Suspicious, aware that a bruise like Faith’s didn’t appear from a mere fall, Kelly shrugged, not wanting to push her new friend any further. “If you say so,” she said. Quickly changing the subject, Kelly extended her hand. “You want a granola bar? My mom always gives me one, but I think they taste like crap.”
Grateful that Kelly had moved on to a more neutral subject, Faith reached out and took the bar, examining the label. Deciding that it didn’t look so bad, she unwrapped it and took a bite. It wasn’t the best thing she’d ever tasted, but it was food nonetheless. “Thanks. What’d you do last night?”
“My parents made dinner.” Kelly rolled eyes. “They love to have ‘family nights’. It bugs.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Faith said, chewing another piece of the granola bar.
“Let me put it this way: it’s so boring that eating a granola bar would be more exciting.”
“Oh.” Faith started to say something else, but the bell rang, signaling that everyone had to go back to class. “Hey, thanks for the granola bar. See you at lunch?”
“Sure. See ya,” Kelly said, giving a wave and walking back to her own classroom.
Finishing the last of the granola bar, Faith put its wrapper in the garbage can, already anticipating lunchtime.
Later, after school had finished and Jesse had driven down to pick Faith up, the two were preparing dinner together. Having studiously finished what little homework Mrs. Matthews had assigned, Faith was not unaware that her mother was suddenly acting a lot more motherly. Between breakfast, a better-than-usual bag lunch, getting dropped off and picked up, and now the overly congenial conversation, it seemed that Jesse was striving to become a better parent. Maybe she feels guilty, Faith thought to herself as she poured some milk into two glasses. But it wasn’t really her fault.
“Tell me about Kelly,” Jesse was saying as she boiled some water on the stove. “What’s she like?”
Faith turned to put the milk back into the fridge. “She’s nice. Today she gave me a granola bar.”
“That was kind of her.”
“Yeah. She just moved here over the summer, I guess.”
“Oh… Where’d she move from?”
Faith gave a shrug. “I kinda forgot to ask, mommy.”
“That’s all right, Firecracker. I’m sure she didn’t mind,” Jesse said, putting some noodles into the pot. “I’m just glad you have a little friend to play with.”
“Me, too.”
With nothing else to do in the kitchen, Faith went over and plopped down on the couch. Her face was beginning to feel slightly better, but the bruise remained the same dark purple color. She hoped it would fade soon; at school, all the kids had stared and whispered, and she’d felt horribly embarrassed. Wrapped in her thoughts, she barely registered the knock at the front door, but she snapped fully aware as Jesse walked through the living room, turning her gaze to Faith on the way.
“Stay there,” she said, pointing at the couch. Approaching the door, the knock sounded again. Not louder or more urgent than before, though. It sounded exactly the same. Polite. Almost timid. Jesse got to the door and called, “Who is it?”
Some genius had decided that the apartment complex could do without peepholes in the front doors, apparently trying to save money, with a typical disregard for the tenants’ safety. Jesse had learned long ago that one never opened the door for anyone without carefully confirming his or her identity beforehand.
There was no immediate answer, so Jesse asked again. “Who is it?”
After another short silence, the person on the other side of the door found the courage to reply.
“It’s Chris.”