Carrying Hope

by Tate, Sennah

  I debated whether to order a drink or not, unsure of the cleanliness of anything in the establishment. Alcohol would kill all of the germs though, I reassured myself before ordering a double scotch from the bartender.

  The surly barkeep didn’t seem to appreciate my presence in his bar. I was not dressed for the occasion, wearing the pants and shirt from one of my nicer suits and shiny dress shoes that looked even more expensive than they were in comparison to my surroundings.

  Nevertheless, money talks and I got my drink without any smart remarks, despite the glower the pot-bellied man gave me as he slid my drink down the grimy bar.

  I gulped the drink down in three big swallows, knowing I’d likely regret it later as the icy burn started to work its way through my limbs. I felt on edge, jumpy, and out of my element. I was used to owning whatever room I stepped into. It wasn’t really my style to be huddled in a dark corner trying to make myself unnoticed.

  After a long awkward silence, I prompted him again.

  “Well, out with it, old man.”

  He turned his gaze toward me and I noticed one of his eyes was milky white with cataracts. That one diseased eyeball made me squeamish and I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, more than ever.

  “I’ve heard a few whispers about what you’re doing,” he began, looking straight ahead now as if he were talking to the wall.

  “So, do you know anything about the man I’m looking for?”

  “I know plenty.”

  His cryptic way of speaking was starting to grate on my nerves.

  “Look, I didn’t come all the way out here to play twenty questions with you. If you have information, I’ll gladly pay you for it, but quit wasting my time.”

  “I’m trying to say you time, sonny. You need to rein in that temper of yours before it gets you into trouble.”

  “I don’t need proverbs from you, I need information. What do you know about my father?”

  “Shhh!” He turned to me, his eyes wide with terror. I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me this was going nowhere. Still, Tanner was never wrong about a lead. I had faith that my best friend knew what he was doing.

  “Even in a place like this, the walls have ears, my boy,” his gaze turned back to the wall, making me feel even more uncomfortable.

  I was beginning to think that this old man really was an escaped mental patient. His paranoia made me feel like I needed to look over my shoulder constantly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The man you’re looking for…”

  “My father?”

  He winced again. What in the world could make him so afraid?

  “He’s a very powerful man.”

  I chuckled. Was that all? I already knew that.

  “So am I,” I stated confidently. I’d yet to meet the man that couldn’t be bought with enough money. Protection, information, and retaliation were all things that could easily be purchased if you knew where to go.

  The geezer shook his head, flakes of dandruff falling out of his bushy mane.

  “Not nearly as powerful as you think. This has been covered up for decades. He’s not going to take your efforts lightly.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. He needs to answer for what he’s done.” My mother’s face flashed before my eyes and I tipped my head to the bartender to order another drink.

  “NO!” The old man shouted, pounding his fist on the bar. Glasses rattled in place and some of the patrons cast their gaze our way, making me feel paranoid now.

  “You’re not getting it,” his voice was back to normal and the stunned hush that had taken over the bar faded away as people resumed their activities. Maybe they’d been expecting a fight, but I was in no mood to argue with an old man.

  “Tell me what I’m not getting. Better yet, why don’t you tell me something useful?” Sarcasm dripped from my voice and I downed another drink. I was starting to feel a little hazy.

  “If you would listen, you would hear that I am telling you something useful. Stop this search now or you will regret it. He will come after you. He will destroy everything you love and leave you with nothing. Just walk away; it’s not worth it, son.”

  My answering laugh was as sarcastic as they came.

  “Jokes on him then. He already destroyed the only thing I loved.”

  His eyes sparkled with unspoken understanding. He knew he’d lost this battle.

  I stood from the bar, leaving my money on the counter. I’d listened to enough from this crazy decrepit kook.

  “I hope you’ll reconsider.”

  “And I hoped you’d be useful.”

  He looked apologetic, but he didn’t say anything. It bothered me more than I cared to admit that he wouldn’t divulge his knowledge to me. It seemed like such a simple request, but someone or something had obviously spooked this man.

  I left the bar, my temper burning as I dialed Tanner’s number on my cell phone.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Huge fucking waste of time,” I growled.

  “Really? I thought he was legit. What happened?”

  “He’s insane. All he wanted to do was tell me to be careful. He said that I would regret it if I didn’t stop looking.”

  “Whoa, really? Do you think he knows who your dad is?”

  “Yeah, I do. Someone got to him though. I don’t know if they paid him off or threatened him, but he’s not gonna give up a peep.”

  “Shit man, I’m sorry.”

  I sighed, running my hand through my shaggy hair anxiously.

  “Yeah, it’s fine. Just another dead end. We’re bound to catch a break some time.”

  He was quiet for a moment and I checked my phone to make sure it hadn’t dropped the call.

  “Bryce,” he sounded apprehensive; it made me uneasy. We were never afraid to speak our minds with one another. “You know I love you like a brother. I’ll follow you anywhere, but maybe the old dude is right. Maybe it’s time to drop this crazy search. I mean, what is it going to accomplish anyway? Just… I don’t know, meet a nice girl, get married, have pretty babies and spoil them with obscene amounts of money. He’s not worth throwing your life away over.”

  I clenched my teeth, biting back the harsh words I wanted to spit back at him. Tanner knew how important this was to me, so he would only say something like that if he was really concerned. Regardless, there was no way I was going to give up that easily.

  “I’m not going to be scared off by some Willie Nelson wannabe. I’m rich and powerful, too.”

  He sighed.

  “Yeah, I know buddy. I just worry about you.”

  “Well, don’t. I’ll be just fine.”

  “All right. Well, take it easy tonight.” I heard the unspoken implication: Don’t drink yourself into a stupor.

  The call ended and I started to stumble my way down the narrow alley to the lot I left my car in.

  Chapter 5

  I called a few different women’s shelters to see if I could find a vacant bed anywhere. Every place I called was full. Realizing that I was going to spend the night on the street, I resigned myself to trying to find a safe place to sleep.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t ever been homeless before. It was just the circumstances that brought me to this point that caught me off-guard. I never, in all of my wildest dreams, would have thought that Kevin could be so heartless as to throw me out onto the street. Apparently, I gravely misjudged him.

  At least it was still warm out. Autumn was rapidly closing in, but the temperature hadn’t begun to dip at night yet. I knew I had to figure out a place to stay quickly or I would be freezing in a week or two. I wandered the streets, heading away from the diner and from my… Kevin’s apartment. I didn’t want to accidentally run into anyone I knew, not that I thought that was a real possibility.

  I passed a convenience store and my stomach rumbled at me. I hadn’t eaten since my bout of nausea that morning, so I knew I had to get something. The sto
re smelled strongly of curry and tobacco, a combination that made me want to get in and get out as quickly as possible before my body could decide it wanted to be ill again. I didn’t have a lot of money, but I had enough to grab a snack, a lighter, and a keychain can of mace. The lighter would be handy for a ton of different things, but the mace had only one purpose. I was under no delusions; I was a young woman, all alone on the streets. Someone was bound to try and mess with me at some point and I wanted to be prepared when it happened.

  I munched on the taquito that was somehow both lukewarm and burnt. Definitely not fine dining, but enough to get me through the night until I could come up with a better plan. I turned down a narrow alley, feeling slightly claustrophobic. There was some kind of store or something further down that had a neon light that illuminated part of the alley. Sleeping under a bright light might not sound ideal, but it seemed safer to me. I passed a dumpster, the noxious stench of urine and alcohol making me gag.

  You can do this, Marcie, I told myself. I knew I could do this. I’d done it before. But I hadn’t been in this position in years and everything felt as scary and dangerous as it had the very first night I spent on the street. I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. It was just for one night. Come morning, I’d find another job and a bed in a shelter. It would take a while to pick myself back up, but I knew I could do it.

  Sinking to the ground with my back pressed against the cool brick wall, I let my tears overcome me again. I hated being so weak. I hated admitting that I was the one that made the choices that led me to this place. I thought back to Kevin and how unconcerned he’d been with my plight. Did he ever really care about me? Or was I just a live-in booty call? I hated that all evidence pointed to the latter. How did I not see that? Was I so blind by my need to be loved?

  A loud thump startled me, making me jump. I looked both ways down the alley, but all I saw were the shifting shadows of creepy crawlies. I shivered and hugged my knees, gripping my new can of mace with white knuckles.

  The air around me was thick with the smell of beer. It made me think of my father. I remember coming home from school (when I was still attending) only to spend the night picking up his empties and making sure he didn’t burn the house down. Luckily, Dad had never been a violent drunk. He was really just hopeless. Heartbroken after my mother’s abandonment, he stopped going to work, stopped taking care of us, and eventually gave up on life completely. There was a point when he was so sick that he couldn’t even drink anymore and then he was just gone. Though I knew I would never see her again, I would never be able to forgive my mother for what she’d done to us. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t even know if she was still alive. I didn’t care either.

  A chilly wind whipped through the tight alley, making me shiver. So much for it not being cold out.

  I heard another loud thump and decided that it wasn’t something to ignore. Slowly, I stood, my backpack firmly strapped to my shoulder and my hand clenched around the mace in a vice-like grip.

  Shouting. Someone was shouting. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but there were two voices. They sounded like they were fighting. It was probably some drunken brawl or a couple of homeless fighting over their territory. I knew I shouldn’t, but I decided to investigate.

  I inched my way down the alley toward the corner the noises were coming from. They were still shouting unintelligibly at one another. Then I heard the sickening sound of a fist connecting with someone’s face. I’d heard it plenty of times when I worked at the gambling hall. Countless men got roughed up when they couldn’t make their payments on time. Somehow I’d always avoided that fate.

  Still, my heart went out to whoever was on the receiving end of the blow. Again, I told myself I should just stay out of it. It didn’t concern me. It was none of my business and I didn’t need any more trouble. Yet my feet moved forward.

  The next noise sounded like a kick to the stomach. That was the last straw for me. It was one thing to be drunk or whatever and be in a fair fight, but kicking a man when he was down was the lowest of the low.

  I rounded the corner at a sprint and nearly tripped over the man lying on the ground. All I could see of his face was covered with blood that gushed from his nose. The man standing over him looked strung out — probably meth, I thought, judging by the nasty scabs covering his face and the nervous twitchy way he kept bouncing around — and was poising himself for another kick.

  “Hey!” I shouted, shoving him back. He was stronger than his wispy frame would have led me to believe and he barely swayed at all from my forceful push.

  The man on the ground groaned and tried to move away from his attacker before the next blow landed on him.

  The tweaker looked surprised to see me; his eyes were wild and feral, his clothes were covered in all sorts of bodily fluids I didn’t want to try to identify, and he stank like he’d just come out of the sewer. His matted hair stuck out at odd angles and his bushy eyebrows knitted together to form one single brow across his forehead. He bared his rotten teeth at me and growled. I panicked, thinking he was going to bite me. I didn’t even want to know what kind of crazy diseases he was carrying.

  He lunged at me; I met him with my mace, spraying it directly into those deranged eyes. He roared in pain and lashed out blindly, striking me near my temple. I went down like a sack of potatoes, hitting my head on the ground as he fled the scene. My vision tunneled as consciousness slipped away from me and my only thought was that I hoped the man next to me was okay.

  Chapter 6

  I laid on the ground in agony, covered in blood, and disoriented. Right after I hung up with Tanner, this junkie came out of nowhere and tried to mug me. I was drunk and irritable and probably not as cooperative as I should have been. The next thing I knew, I was getting my ass kicked in the middle of the street. I tried to curl up into a ball to stop the blows from landing on me. I just wanted this horrible nightmare to be over.

  Then, the answer to my prayers came: an angel with a can of pepper spray. I don’t know what possessed her to interfere, but I was eternally grateful. I tried to pick myself up and my battered body protested. I assumed that the girl fled with the junkie. Most people around here wouldn’t stick around to have their name attached to a police report, not even as a Good Samaritan.

  I rolled onto my side, pushing down the urge to puke that came from getting kicked in the gut. I started to take inventory of my injuries. My nose was possibly broken, one rib definitely was, but other than that, I considered myself lucky. If that madman had a knife or a gun, I would be dead. I might be anyway if it hadn’t been for my savior.

  It was then that I heard a soft feminine grunt from behind me. I whipped my head around, immediately regretting it thanks to the sharp pain in my head. She was still here! And she looked injured. A fierce protective instinct washed over me, catching me off-guard. I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed for an ambulance. Whatever her injuries, whatever the cost, I would take care of her; she saved my life.

  I pulled myself up from the ground and approached her slowly. I didn’t want to frighten her. Nudging her shoulder gently, I realized she was unconscious. I rolled her over onto her back and my breath caught in my throat. Even unconscious with the purple beginnings of a black eye, she was beautiful. Her breathing was steady and even and her heartbeat was strong. I allowed myself to release a sigh that I didn’t know I was holding; she was okay.

  Red flashing lights rapidly approached and I did the only reasonable thing I could think of: I checked her wallet for an ID and formulated a story to tell the paramedics. I couldn’t have them whisking her away to the hospital without me. I needed to thank her for her kindness, reward her for her bravery, and —for some inexplicable reason— I needed to stay by her side to make sure she was safe.

  “Nice to meet you, Marcia Elanor Gallagher,” I muttered, stuffing her wallet back into her backpack before anyone could spot my sneaky behavior. Maybe it wasn’t ethical, but I wanted to be there when she awoke and the
only way I could do that was to pretend that we were family.

  The paramedics arrived only moments before the police. Marcia’s eyes fluttered open as the sirens blared through the street. I was captivated by the depths of her cinnamon-colored eyes. Again, I was surprised at my own reaction to this random woman. As suddenly as they’d opened, her eyes rolled back and closed again.

  “What happened?” A young paramedic asked as he started to attach various monitors and machines to her limp body.

  “We were mugged.” I went on to explain the rest of the events in detail… or at least my newly concocted version of the events. My “fiancée” and I were minding our own business when we were attacked. I hoped that she would understand my motivations and not be angry with me. I hoped that she didn’t have an actual fiancé somewhere that was going to swoop in.

  “Will I be able to ride to the hospital with you?”

  The younger man moved in a whirlwind, his routine practiced and efficient.

  “Yeah, the police are going to want to talk to you. You should let us check you out, too.”

  I shook my head, ignoring the dull throb that emanated from my sinuses.

  “I’m fine. I’m just worried about her.”

  He nodded, a silent male understanding passing between us.

  “Well, at least let the nurses clean you up at the hospital. You don’t want to scare her when she wakes up.”

  I looked down at my blood-covered shirt and knew that my face must look like a disaster. I didn’t even want to think about the bruises I was going to have. None of it mattered at that moment though.

  A short Hispanic police officer blocked my path to the ambulance.

  “Excuse me, sir; we’re just trying to get a description of the man that attacked you.”

  I bounced on my heels anxiously; the EMTs were closing up the ambulance and getting ready to leave.