Guide Me Home

by Ana Gibson

  “You're staying here,” she says so calmly.

  My brows furrow in confusion. “You trust me to stay here? Alone?”

  “Do I have a reason not to trust you?”

  I mean what if this was all a ploy I planned to get what I wanted out of her? She don't know me like that. She dries her hands and then positions the chairs back to the table and put away the rest of the morning condiments.

  “You don't have anywhere else to go, and it's too cold for you to be outside. I can't let you do that.”

  All of my stupid thoughts have been shot down.

  “I mean you don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I can't force you to do anything.”

  I wring my knit hat in my hands and look over at Logan. She isn't shaking. She isn't sad. She isn't hungry, and she's clean. New clothes—everything I've been wishing for.

  “I…guess I can stay here for the day. I was going to go look for a job while she was at school.”

  Faith smiles at me. “Take a break. You work hard enough.”

  I don't necessarily know what that means.

  “I promise you're safe here.”

  And in some weird way, I kind of believe her. But there's one thing that she's forgetting.

  “What about your fiancé?”

  “I'll be home before he gets here. I'll tell him everything that's going on. He'll understand.”

  “I'm not so sure about that.”

  “Devin, trust me. It'll be fine. Now make yourself at home. Get some sleep while you're at it.”

  “Yeah…right. Sleep. Okay. I guess I'll see you when you get back.”

  “We'll be back by 3:30.” She takes Logan by the hand and heads out the front door, leaving me behind, lonely, confused and sad to say, kind of anxious, however, I close the door and lock it, turning to Blanket and looking at her.

  “Soooo, what are we going to do?”

  CHAPTER 12

  DEVIN

  I wake up to constant licking on my face. Blanket hadn't left my side since I came up here to take a nap. Must've been the longest nap I've ever had. Time had slipped by quietly. The bedside clock reads 2:15 in the afternoon. I still haven't showered and now would be a perfect time.

  I shuffle my tired body into the bathroom and turn on the shower. As I wait for the water to get hot, I take a moment to look at myself in the mirror. The deep circles outline my sockets, and my dry chaffed skin leaves my esteem at an all-time low. My hair has grown a lot, and my facial hair is in serious need of grooming.

  I'm a mess.

  I continue to scan over myself; an unattractive, rugged, smellin' fool. My heart has been running on the fumes of hope mixed with despair, and certainly it shows. The hot steam clouds around me and fills the air as I get in the tub. I haven't felt real hot water soak up my body in a while. Not even at the motel.

  For a moment, in my solitude, I close my eyes and let the rushing pitter-patter beat my skin while the thoughts of my life come raining in just as fast. The things I want to know, I can't quite seem to get an answer to no matter how much my soul begs for one. For years, since Logan has been here, I've questioned the same thing over and over again, like what will become of me? What will my daughter think of me as she grows older? Why me? What I do to deserve this life? I'm haunted by these questions all the time.

  And Mia.

  Was it really because of me? Did she turn that way because of me for real?

  My knees grow weak and weary, forcing me down on them. My reflections are a nuisance. I melt into a brown puddle of emotions. Soft whimpers ricochet through the bathroom as I become an emotional mess. I just want this shit to be over.

  

  Logan rushes up the stairs and into the guest room where I am.

  “Look what I made in class today!” She thrusts her artwork in my face.

  “Oh, this is nice.”

  “Thank you. It's a Christmas card for you.”

  I take it from her and hug her. She then takes off all of her belongings and sits on the bed beside me.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “Do you think we'll have Christmas this year?” I knew eventually she'd ask that question but I never really prepared an answer for it.

  “Ya know, I don't really know if we will have a Christmas like everyone else but what we will have on Christmas day is each other, and you know what else?”

  “What?” Her eyes lighten up.

  “We may even have a place to stay, and just maybe that place will have presents for good little girls like you.” It's the only thing I could think of as I see the sparkle set off in her eye.

  “I hope so.”

  “Well tonight in your prayers, ask Jesus if he could make your Christmas extra special this year.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good girl.”

  “I'm going to go watch TV downstairs.”

  “Okay. I'll be down in a little bit.”

  She leaves the room. I remain on the bed, staring at the card she made.

  “Knock, Knock,” Faith says, making her way into the room.

  “Hey.”

  “I just wanted to come in and check on you, that's all.”

  “I'm still here.”

  She giggles. “Your day went alright?”

  “It was quiet.”

  She nods, smiling. “Quiet is good.”

  “I've got to get used to that.”

  “Do you need anything?” She asks.

  “No…no I'm good. Thank you.”

  “Alright. Well, I'm in my room if you need me.”

  “Got it,” I say. This whole warming up thing—it's getting there. As she begins to walk away, I get the sudden urge to stop her.

  “Faith?”

  She turns around, arms folded into each other. “Yeah?”

  Hesitation holds my tongue. I just want to know how could someone who has no clue who I am, be so nice to me.

  “Why are you doing this for us?”

  She unfolds her arms as if to be unbothered by my questions.

  “Simple. I would want the same thing to happen for me if I were in your shoes.”

  “But…you don't really know me.”

  “You say that like I should be afraid of you,” she says with a hint of laughter.

  “But I mean, you just taking us in on a whim like this. I mean it don't feel awkward to you? You don't think this is strange?”

  She chuckles and sighs. “You need to fix that.”

  “Fix what?”

  “You're the type that needs to know everything, don't you?”

  I laugh at it and nod, kind of embarrassed. I don't have an argument for her, nevertheless, we connect eyes once again, and she gives me one of those slanted smiles as she tilts her head and says, “Well, if there's no other reason, it would be only because we all need to be shown a little mercy.”

  She's got me there.

  “Anything else you want to know?”

  I shake my head and let her leave. Parts of me want to follow just to show her, in some way, my gratitude. But to be honest, I don't know how to do that. I don't mean to come off ungrateful. It's just a little weird, that's all. I hope she understands. I've never felt so much like a human being before like I do now since my life turned this way. I don't know what to do with all of this, and frankly, it scares me a little bit. I've gotten so comfortable with trying to deal with things on my own and figuring out how to stay alive so this is a nice twist.

  I get up and slowly make my way to her room. The door wide open and her back slightly facing me, I wait a moment. I stare at her from afar as she releases her hair from that high tight bun. It falls to the middle of her back. Didn't know it was that long. It's beautiful. Jet black. She removes the pink studs she often wears and places them inside her jewelry box for safe keep and then her gold pendant necklace. I stay at the door, waiting for the right moment to get her attention, but her beauty captivates me. Renders me speechless.

  She un
buttons her blouse at the sleeves and then each one down the middle of her chest; her deep bronzed skin pouring out like blackened honey. Mia was gorgeous don't get me wrong but Faith…Faith's beauty holds a quality so picturesque that only our greatest creator could ever make. Her skin looks photoshopped in real time. That's how flawless it is. My pulse deepens rhythmically as I watch her and my breaths are steady, slow. I need to look away—but at the same time, I don't want to. She looks like an Ethiopian Goddess. I just want to touch, but I better not. That would be creepy. If she catches me lurking like a creep in the shadows, I'm sure to be put out without a second thought. Chill boy. You act like you've never seen a woman before. I shake her image from my head and quickly close and open my eyes and take a deep breath. I stop her just as she begins to undress from the waist down.

  “Ahem!” My soft knock startles her. She gasps in surprise.

  “Devin?”

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you.”

  “It's cool. I was getting ready to get comfortable. What's up?”

  I step into her room, gently squeezing and rubbing the back of my neck, trying to find what to say.

  “Umm, I was wondering if you wanted me to cook you anything?”

  She tilts her head, looking at me like I'm crazy.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “It's the least I can do.”

  She chuckles. “You're my guest. My guests don't cook.”

  “I'd rather work for my keep.”

  “No. You don't have to do that.”

  “Please?”

  She takes a deep breath, eyes shooting to all corners of her room.

  “If I did that then I'd feel like you would be a servant. That's not why I brought you here.”

  I nod. “I realize your intentions are good.”

  Her eyes brighten.

  “Can you show me where everything is?” I ask. She blinks a couple of times. Not sure if it's shock or what.

  “Yeah. Sure. Just let me slip into something else. I'll be right out.”

  I nod, and turn myself out of her room and wait against the hall wall. Okay, that wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I'm getting there. I ain't as crazy as I look.

  Seconds later, she returns, seemingly happy and relaxed. I follow her as she leads me back to the kitchen.

  “Can you cook?” She asks me. It's been a while since I last touched a stove. However, I think my culinary skills are still there.

  “We'll find out.”

  She giggles as she points to me where everything is. We end up at the refrigerator last. She pops it open and looks inside.

  “Can you make a meal out of any of this?”

  I scan the shelves. Turkey chops in my view. I grab them, the fresh green beans and the bag of red grapes.

  “Grapes?”

  “Balance diet,” I say and close the door. She laughs again. All ingredients gathered I do my best to prepare dinner. She takes a seat at the kitchen table with a bottle of water near. I look up once. She's staring.

  “You clean up well.”

  “Thank you, I guess.” I'm not looking the greatest but it ain't too bad, thanks to her and these clothes she gave me. I begin seasoning the turkey chops and prepping the rest of the food at the same time.

  “Who taught you how to cook?”

  “I used to watch my mom a lot.”

  “Oh wow. I'm sure you miss her cooking.”

  If I don't miss anything else about my mom, it's definitely her cooking.

  “How did she die?”

  I catch myself, playing it off as if I was forgetting something. I don't like going down memory lane, especially when it comes to my mother. That's just an area I hate discussing—to anyone. But it's a simple question that I can answer.

  “Drunk driver.”

  Her eyes widen, and eyebrows rise. “Wow, that had to be tough.”

  “It's life. I mean I guess it had to happen. I don't know.” I say, trying to lighten my own mood even if it were bothering me. She remains quiet, and I continue fixing dinner. Meat in the oven and green beans on the stove, I take my chances and go sit down at the table across from her. We remain silent for what seems like an eternity. It's killing me somewhat. I can feel those lovely eyes of hers reading into me. If we had superpowers, I would swear that reading minds would be hers.

  “So let me ask you, how did you get into the school anyway?” She sits straight up, hands cuffed beneath her chin and a cute, yet confusing grin on her face, stares back at me. I shrug and laugh at myself.

  “Let's just say while being a custodian, you learn how to unlock anything when you don't have keys.” Hope I didn't just set myself up with that statement.

  “Wow. I never would've guessed,” she says. A brief moment of silence interrupts us again, but she comes back with more.

  “Devin, I…I hope I'm not intruding, but is it okay if I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  There’s hesitation in her face as she twiddles her thumbs and clears her throat. She looks down at her hands first and then looks back at me.

  “How did you, you know—“

  “End up like this?”

  She nods like she wants to take that question back. I shrug and look at my hands. My thumbs are playing with each other too.

  “Poor choices I guess.” It's the honest truth.

  “I know you said you lost your job. What were you doing before all this?”

  “I was a janitor for a company downtown. But before that, I was locked up.”

  She looks down, I guess at her hands or the table. I put my attention on the green beans, making sure they aren't boiling over.

  “So I don't have much experience. I figure that's why it's hard for me to find a good job. Seems like all the retail joints are taken for the holiday season. Everybody and their mama done got one, except me.”

  She laughs. “Tell me about it. I thought about getting a part-time gig just to you know, get a lil’ extra money. Better yet, get out of the house for once.”

  “I hear you. I’m just trying to find a way to be like Cardi B and make some money moves, you know,” I wink. She bursts into laughter.

  “She started off as a stripper you know that?”

  “We all gotta start somewhere right?” I chuckle. She laughs too.

  “Stripping sounds real lucrative at this point,” she says. “That doesn't sound too bad, actually. Shoot, all I do is go to work and then come home. Deal with Clayton and then—“ she stops and looks at me and then turns away. I don't know where she was headed, but clearly, she was about to go real far. I don't want her whole life story. It's none of my business.

  “Anyway, what'd you go to jail for?”

  “Trying to feed and take care of her,” I point. She looks over to Logan and then back at me.

  “What?”

  “Yep. It was a misdemeanor. Got caught stealing a little over one hundred dollars of food and medical needs. She was really sick. No health insurance. No money. So you know, had to do what I thought was best at the time.”

  “And what about her mother? She couldn't help you with that?”

  And there it is.

  “No. She had spent all of her money on drugs. Mia was in and out of jobs all the time. The little money she would get, she'd just spend it. I carried a lot of the load when it came to providing for all of us. I mean I just did what I had to do.”

  “Man, that's crazy.”

  “Yep. I don't regret it though. I'd do anything for that girl in there. That's my heart. She is my life.”

  She smiles and does a slow head nod. The tips of her fingers tap lightly on the kitchen table like she's looking for something else to say or maybe just taking in everything I'm telling her. She's really getting me to come out of myself. The warming up is increasing more and more between us, which is probably a good thing. Going to have to get acquainted anyway if I'm going to be staying here.

  “And her grandparents…they never wanted to
step in and help?”

  I shake my head nope, now my fingertips tapping on the hardwood too. Mia’s parents didn’t like me from the very beginning. Being that uneducated, black boy, classified as the thug cause’ of my tattoo’s and clothes, records and no real ambition, I was already considered scum in their eyes, and once Mia got pregnant and hooked on drugs, that’s when everything changed. Said that we didn’t fit in their mold of lifestyle and that what she’s doing is ruining who they are and their family. They turned her away with no ounce of support. Didn’t care nothing about their grandchild. Her Father is of the Anglo Saxon breed, and her mom isn’t too far behind, though both are considered black by government standards, but for them and their “class,” I guess any type of tainting of color is an automatic no-no. I guess it was just more convenient to act like she never existed than to have a heart and give her a chance since they would be abandoning their grandchild too.

  “I couldn't imagine,” she tells me. Well, it's true, lady. It's true. Logan has no clue who her grandparents are on either side.

  “I'm surprised they didn't put her in foster care or something. Poor thing.”

  I go stiff. Tapping stops and my eyes burn right into her.

  “She didn't need to go to foster care.”

  Can't believe that actually just came out of her mouth. Did she not hear anything I said before?

  “Devin, I—I didn't mean it like that.”

  I'm not so sure if that's true.

  “I was just saying that—“

  “You know what let's talk about something else. I don't want to keep talking about this.”

  She nods and looks away from me. My head falls into my hand as I rub the tension from my temples. I know I'm being defensive and part of me feels like I have every right to be, but looking at her now while she grabs the plates from the cupboard and set them on the counter, I can see how my attitude would make her not want to say anything to me. Perhaps she was only speaking what she knew to say or just simply thinking out loud. I don't know.

  I need a moment to gather my thoughts and to fix my attitude. If she meant what she said, more than likely all signs would point to it. Yet, here we are and no signs of any threat.