by Kara Hart
“Silly-bug? I'm not a silly-bug! I'm your mother,” I said, pretending to be stern. I made a weird face at her and she laughed even louder.
“Mommy, do the thing! Be ‘Mission Control’. Bring me down from space!” She swung by me, her thin hair whisking in the air.
I prepared my best mission control voice, putting my hand in front of my face and pretending it was an intercom. “Er, roger. This is mission control to silly-bug. Come in silly-bug. Do you read me?”
That, of course, annoyed her. “I'm not a silly-bug! You are!”
“Oh okay. You're right. I forgot.” I laughed. “Mission control to space station Jennifer. We've got it on good authority that a major asteroid is heading your direction.”
“An asteroid!?” She screamed. “No!”
“Afraid so, Space Station Jennifer. And it seems like there's a kissing-alien hiding in one of its craters!”
“Mommy, what's a kissing-alien?” She asked me, mind full of wonder.
“It's an alien with one mission: to kiss little children to death!”
“No!” She squealed.
“Yes! Avert back to Earth or prepare to be smooched forever. Over and out.” I faked like I was hanging up an intercom and waited for her to jump out of the swing. We had probably been here for the past two hours and I still had to help with her homework. Whoever said having kids wasn't a lot of work clearly didn't have children.
“I don't like those kissing aliens! I'm coming down!” She yelled. And within seconds, she blasted off into the air, flying at an incredible speed of five miles per hour or less. To her, it probably felt like light speed. When she came tumbling down into the sand, she let out a large roar.
I came up running behind her, making kissing noises. “The kissing-alien is coming to get you!” I cried out, grabbing her into my arms. “You can't escape the wrath of the kissing monster!”
“Mommy no!” She laughed and tried kicking me away, but she was no match against mom.
She rolled around yelling “Stop, stop!” Finally, I did and she fell to the ground, exhausted. After all that, we could go home and have that peace and quiet I'd been dreaming about.
“Alright, no more kissing monster. How ‘bout we call it a day and head home. Sound good?” I asked her, combing her hair back to normal with my fingers.
“Sounds good, Mommy,” she said, smiling. The sun splashed off her hair like morning dew. It was always a wonder how her father left us. Left her. It was inconceivable to me. Yet, he did it, and there I was, left to fend for myself.
It was only a short walk home and I liked our conversations on the way home, so I relished in the time spent together, walking slower than usual. Of course, that's when she hit me with the bullet.
“Why can't Daddy ever walk home with us anymore?” She asked me like a kid does. To her, it was just a question. To me, it was like a bomb going off. Her father was a bad man, and I mean bad. She was young, but I bet deep down she remembered all of the bruises and wounds he gave me on a regular basis.
We walked and shared my poppy seed muffin, a peace offering I got at work. Poppy seed. It was all so ironic and yet, at the same time, so fitting. No matter what, I promised, I wouldn't let her remember him like the devil he was. No, I would raise her right. I would raise her to love.
“Because Daddy doesn't do that anymore, honey.” I said, with a slight tick in my throat. It's not that I got sad thinking about the guy. I actually hated his guts. However, it was just one of those catch-22’s. Without him there would be no Jennifer. Without Jennifer, there was no sunshine. Without her, there was my dark past.
“But why doesn't he? Does it make him too tired? Sometimes I get tired too,” she said, without much care at all. “Is he like a bear, Mommy? Is he asleep in a cave somewhere?”
I let her run with that idea. It was much better than the reality, anyway. “Yes, sweetie. He's exactly like a bear. A big, fat goofy bear.” This made her break into laughter.
This was an easy day. Swinging, walks home from the park, and late night television was all that was on the list of things to do. She, of course, had homework too, but it was a coloring assignment easy enough for a toddler to handle. Thank god for Josie. I thought.
Josie was her 1st grade teacher. She also happened to be one of my only friends. Because of that, she often assigned easier homework on my busiest days. There weren't many children in this town, regardless, so it wasn't like she would get in trouble.
But that's how it was here. It was us against the world. If one person didn't sacrifice something for the next, nothing would get done around here. I think everyone thought something was awry with me. But that was just it—there was something awry with most outsiders. In a town as small as Monroe, everyone had some secrets if you dug hard enough.
As for me and Jen, we didn't want to dig or uncover anything out of the ordinary. We just wanted each other and a safe life. As we approached the house, I turned to her and smiled. “Let me get your shoes,” I said.
Bending down, I untied her feet and tickled her toes. “Mom! Stop it!” She yelled, angrily. Though, she was unable to contain her laughter. “No more tickling,” she finally declared. She stomped inside. I tried to be a good mother. I just hoped I was doing a good job.
It wasn't long before I put Jennifer to sleep, kissing the top of her sweet head and wishing only the best for her future. Gone were the days of pure innocence. From here on out, there would be more questions about her father. Where he lived, what he was doing now, and why he didn't stick around. I would have to come up with a better story than he got too tired for walks home.
Right now, I was just focused on the next day. I had work and another full day of being a parent.
The next day, I was stuck with another double. That, of course, meant extra hassle with Carmelo. There was always something going on with him. Whether the pastries came out wrong, or the government was too corrupt, he would always have his morning rant hot and ready for me.
“I don't want you speaking with that man!” Carmelo stood by the register, cleaning glasses, his face stricken with fear and confusion.
“Why not?” This Lucas guy was a dick and all, but that's it. He was just some tough guy from a fucked up city. Sure, he wasn't my cup of tea, but I picked up on his vine pretty quick.
“I just don't trust him. He worries me,” he said. He looked like he had seen a ghost. “Have you seen his tattoos?”
I sighed loudly. Old men were hard to deal with, especially when they were from the “old country.” They were so set in their ways that there was no use in arguing with them. I, on the other hand, was a girl who loved to argue.
“Carmelo, just because someone has tattoos doesn't mean they are automatically a terrible person.” I shook my head and counted the drawer.
“Not just a terrible person!” He exclaimed, raising a wild finger into the air. “He's a gangster! A thug! Did you see his hands the other day? They were covered in blood. And I'm positive it wasn't marinara sauce!” His voice grew louder and shakier.
“A thug? Really? Look, I won't go out of my way to talk to him. But if he comes in, we can't exactly turn him away. If he wants to eat, he's gonna eat,” I reasoned.
“Don't give me that good neighbor crap! I saw what he did to the Matkins boy across the street. He was hanging on that fence for at least an hour. Is that how we treat people here? Good neighbor, my ass!”
I didn't have much of a response. He did have a point. Thing was, I didn't really care what he was or where he came from. “Whatever he’s doing here, I'm sure he won’t be staying for long. Hopefully none of us will have to deal with him much longer. It's not like I really like the guy either, you know. Trust me for once. He’ll be gone before you know it.”
“That's what I'm afraid of,” he mumbled his words and walked into the kitchen to bake his quiche.
“What's his problem?” I wondered to myself. There was so much wrong with Carl’s life, it was hard to even put stock in anything
he said. I know he had a hard life and all, but did he really understand what I'd been through? When he was busy showing me all that was wrong in his life, did he ever stop to consider what was wrong in mine? Not that I expected him to. I kept my past bottled up so tight, it would be a miracle if anyone did.
The morning rush was so slow, I could’ve died. Instead of ringing customers up, I was stuck daydreaming while Carmelo shouted to himself in the kitchen. I thought about the day we left Seattle and all the things we had thrown away for good.
My parents were no good. They welcomed our departure with open arms. They loved Cade, my ex-boyfriend. They thought he was the golden boy of the century. But that was all a part of his web of lies and tricks. I was made to look like the bad person.
Only I knew the real Cade. I understood his level of deceit and manipulation. But my family was quick to disown me. They said I was a bad mother. They actually tried to take Jennifer away from me.
So I did what I had to do. When Cade was out on one of his infamous benders, I packed everything I could. Jennifer was just a little girl. She didn't know what was happening. She was scared, but less scared than I was at the time. She was stoic, like a gentle angel. Of course, I had to be the bearer of bad news, that we would be leaving that town forever.
No more house on the water, no more rainy days tapping against the pines and windowsills, and definitely no more great Seattle coffee shops. No, we traded all that for a new life.
Monroe, Michigan. It was a small town, but it was the best we could do for ourselves. Small shops, tourists, two highways in and out of the city. That's what we left for. No one passed through Monroe because there was very little reason to. It was perfect, really.
I tried my best to make the transition okay for her. I really did. We went to Lake Michigan and sat on the beach, enjoying the endless blue view. Jennifer was in her little pink bathing suit, flopping around in the shallow shore of cold water.
We took a few day trips to Detroit and Ann Arbor too. Anything to pass the time. Anything to make her forget her horrible father and the hard life he gave us. And it worked too. At least, for the most part. Those memories would be with both of us forever, engrained in our very being. Because I would never forget. How could i?
Despite the fact we left and found safety, every single day was rife with panic attacks and fear. A guy like Lucas didn't scare me one bit. He seemed a little messed up in the head, a little too brutish for his own good, but he didn't seem as twisted as Cade. Every night I laid awake, praying for the best for little Jennifer.
I had a sickening taste in my mouth and my stomach churned. He would find us someday. And when he did, it wouldn't be good. Truth was, I had no protection. I had fucking Carmelo, an old man from an underdeveloped area of the western world. I couldn't rely on him, no matter how many times he told me I could.
“I know a thing or two about dealing with thugs. Remember, I'm from the ‘old country’,” he’d brag to me and jokingly flex his arms. In reality, he was just a lonely baker who had a shit life in a shit village. He was just like me, only he would never admit it.
I needed real help though. If Cade ever found us, I would need some deadly ammo, like a bodyguard or something. Lucas. The name flashed in my head. He sure was some deadly ammo. And that's not all he was.
I fell into my thoughts. His strong body, tough as a tank with the strength of at least ten men. Those deep eyes, the broad jaw, and his massive chest and chiseled abs. He was built for protection, but carried the threat of redemption. I got the feeling he wouldn't mind taking Cade out back and showing him a thing or two.
I had to shake off this crazy idea. It wasn't good to bring any kind of violence into our lives. Was I really thinking that barbarian could save me? What was I thinking?
But I kept having heavy images flash through my mind. His towering body, looming over me. His strong hands slowly tying rope over my wrists. His mouth around my aching core. Eating me. Devouring me. He had the appetite of a wolf.
He was appalling, disgusting, and way too assuming and self-righteous for a woman like me. Yet, I couldn't stop thinking about his arms wrapped around my waist as I pushed my lips against his tongue.
I stood against the counter, squeezing my legs together, hoping the feeling would go away. The day I met him, when he stood in front of me, bare chested, knuckles bloody, and working on that engine. Those thoughts sent pulsating waves throughout my body, prickling my skin, pulling on my hairs like static electricity. It had been so long since I even felt those feelings. I didn't know they were still possible.
It was those images that I tried to dismiss. Because I knew all that good would only come with a lot of bad. A woman like me couldn't handle that bad. Not anymore.
148
Lucas
“You’re joking. Four days? This car’s a classic, boss,” I said, looking at the piece of junk that was currently raised high up in the air. I’d had this car forever, since before I was a made man, even.
“Well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you’ll just have to walk for a few days. It’s going to be a little bit longer than we planned. It’s a small town, though. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting around out here.”
I groaned, running through all the possibilities in my head. There wasn’t much except offer more money, and my allowance was running out. I had a job to do and I was taking too damn long on it.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Just call me when it’s ready.” I adjusted my long coat and walked out the building.
“Wait, you left your coffee!” I heard, but I was already out of the building.
The sun was strong and blistering today. I looked at the one long street in front of me. I hated this town. How anyone could move here was beyond me, but it didn’t have one ounce of value to me. My options were either go to the café and stare at miss prissy-pants and her boss, or find a place to get a shot or two. I decided that both options were just as good as the next.
I pulled out another cigarette and walked to the café. In front of me were the douchebags I’d set straight the other day. Just my luck. I took one look at the middle man’s shattered nose and I could see the fear well up inside him. “Come on, guys. Let’s go,” he whispered to his friends.
“Seems like a good plan,” I muttered back. I parted my jacket from my hips and showed the grip of my pistol, hanging in my jeans. They started to walk a bit faster. I laughed to myself. All in all, I regretted hitting that little pipsqueak. But insult a beautiful lady like that, and I couldn’t be expected to restrain myself.
I was born on the streets of Detroit. Things were a little different then. But there was a strong code everyone obeyed. Certain actions were not unanswered. When the city turned dark, and all of the corruption spilled onto the streets, the rules started to change. No one knew what they could or couldn’t say. Some wise guys got their faces caved in for smiling the wrong way.
Unlike those maniacs, I was raised old school. The best and the worst of ‘em. We had a code and we stuck by it. And that woman, the one with the cute ass and hard charm, deserved a little better.
I smoked my cigarette in front of the café, observing the unlit neon sign above me. It was real classic looking, like it was trying to be something it wasn’t. “Café - Restaurant” the sign read. I kissed at it and whispered “bellissimo,” with a real Italian look on my face. I laughed to myself and took another drag.
All of these old paesans escaping some bad shit on the other side of the ocean, came here and opened up these cheesy little cafés. They slapped some half-assed Italian name on the sign and expected the best. They cheapened our heritage with this shit and didn’t even see it.
I looked inside for the old man. Better watch your back, buddy. I’m waiting for you. But he’s nowhere in sight. I put my hand against the glass and realized I was staring at that woman’s tits. She knocked on the glass and yelled “Up here, asshole.” I averted my eyes from her chest and see her angry eyes staring back
at me. Shit, I muttered to myself, taking a step back.
She opened the door, holding a towel and some Windex. She looked a little out of breath and her hair curled in her eyes. She wore a short blue dress and her tits called my name. Did she really expect me, a red-blooded Italian, to not accept the invitation? I almost cupped them then and there.
“What are you doing here?” She spat at me. She was in a feisty mood today.
“Can’t a man come by for some coffee and a quiche?” I smiled and pulled out a wad of cash. It was something, at least. Only, was the last of my earnings for a while. Fuck it. I began counting the endless amount of hundred dollar bills and twenties.
She sighed loudly and said “Come in.”
“That’s what I thought,” I laughed. I looked around at the empty room and clapped my hands loudly. “Shit, does anyone come to this place?” I asked.
“One black coffee and a quiche?” She ignored my question.
“I liked what you made me last time.” I said, leaning over the counter. I grabbed one of the chocolate bars on display and pretended like I was reading the packaging. “What was that called again?”
“A red eye.” She said, rolling her eyes at me. “You going to buy that chocolate bar too? Or are you just out to annoy me today.”
“Both. Sure, throw the chocolate bar in.” I looked around her at the open kitchen. In the back was a man I hadn’t seen before. “Where’s the old goombah today?”
“Goombah? Really? Isn’t that a little disrespectful?” She punched in some numbers on her electronic display and held out her hand for the money. “That’ll be $9.73,” she said.
“Lady, I’m Italian. My pops was born in Italy. I think I get a free pass with that stuff,” I said. “Here’s a fifty. Keep the change.”
She made a gross throaty sound, as if my presence made her sick. She walked up to the kitchen window and called out “Quiche. To-go, please.” Her back was arched in front of me. I had half a mind to turn around and close up this shop, drop in front of her and cup her ass hard. She’d probably love my working-class hands, pushing her forward, while I had my way with her.
