by Steven Swaks
Joey? She could not even look at his picture. The little guy had died eight years ago. It was like yesterday. Dad was on a business trip, Mom was backing up down the driveway. Gina was only sixteen. Her mother hadn’t seen the little boy running behind the car to say goodbye.
A tear travelled down her cheek.
Everything had gone downhill from there. Dad left a few months after the accident. How could he forgive her for that? Mom had not even forgiven herself. The booze had done the trick for a while, then Mary J., then heavier stuff: meds, hard drugs, what was the difference?
Gina liked her light. It felt so good. It was a refuge.
“Gina!” a rocky voice sounded from the depths of the small house.
She rolled her eyes toward the white walls without a word. She could hear her heart beating. If only it could stop, it would be so beautiful. No more pain, no more anger, sorrow, or fear. No more anything. The purity of nothing.
“Gina! You filth! Come over here!”
Perhaps she could do it, take care of her mother and herself, both. Two for one. Why not? Who would miss them? Nobody in this town, that was for sure.
“What are you doing? Are you with a guy? I’m calling you! Your own mother’s calling you and you’re not coming? After all I did for you? You ungrateful! COME OVER HERE!”
Gina rose from her bed. Her disheveled hair stayed glued to the pillow for an instant. She sat at the edge of her mattress. The soles of her bare feet touched the cool floor. It felt good.
“GINA!”
She loathed her own name, her identity, her house, her town, her mother, her life.
She walked like a robot to her mother’s bedroom. She pushed the door. The scene was pitiful. Her mother was lying on her bed in a dirty nightgown. Small yellow stains blotted the clothes near her upper thighs. She rested on her elbow, her greasy hair falling on her shoulders.
“You need to move your ass over here when I call you!”
“Yes,” Gina answered lowering her head.
“Yes who?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“That’s more like it.” Her voice sounded like a growl emanating from a deep cave.
“Where’re my cigarettes?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t smoke in bed, Mother… I’m always afraid something will happen.”
“Who do you think you are to tell me what to do? You shut up, and go get me my cigarettes! That’s not so hard, is it? Even you can do that! Where did you put ‘em?” Her mother’s yellow eyes stayed on her.
“They’re in the kitchen.”
“Then go get ‘em.” Some spit flew out of her mouth. “Do I need to tell you everything?”
Gina turned around and disappeared for an instant. She came back with a new pack of cigarettes. She stopped by the bed and handed her the red and white box.
Her mother coughed. She snatched the cigarettes out of her daughter’s hand. “It’s about time.” She hit her daughter’s arm with a back blow of her hand. “Come closer.”
Gina complied.
The disheveled woman grabbed her chin in a tight grip. She spoke out of her clenched brown teeth. “Next time you come faster when I call you. You got that?”
“Yes, Mother.”
She released her grasp. “Good girl,” she said before tapping her on the face, “Now you go, get out of this room, go find your boyfriends. At least I hope you can make some money out of it.”
Gina stepped away from the bed with tears running down her red cheeks.
“What now?” Her mother asked.
Gina did not answer. Gina shook her head and ran to her pink sheets. She lay on the bed for a while, her head buried in her pillow. She looked up and glared out the window. People walked by on the residential street curb, little children with their mothers after school or an older mother with a basket full of vegetables. An ice cream truck drove by with its blaring music. She saw smiles on faces and striking innocence. She hated Stone Falls. Why were they so damn happy when she suffered so much? She wanted to get it over with. She wanted it to end. She clenched her fist in a rise of fury and recoiled her arm like the hammer of a revolver. She punched the bedroom wall in an explosion of rage and anger.
The pain immediately propelled through her fist and into her arm. Gina cried in agony and collapsed onto her bed, clenching her throbbing hand against her stomach.
Good Gina… let it go… be free my child, a warm male voice whispered.
She looked around her with wild eyes in surprise, a strand of her hair covering her eye. Somebody had talked, but she was alone in the bedroom.
“What’s going on now?” Her mother called after hearing the impact on the wall.
She stayed quiet for an instant and barged out of her room, “Do you want to know what’s going on, Mother? I’m sick of it! Sick of this life, sick of your abuse, sick of you!”
“Here we go again,” the mother said with a chuckle. What are you gonna do? Call your little friends again? You haven’t seen them in a few days! Go ahead! Call them!”
Gina leaned against the wall in the middle of the corridor. She slid down onto the floor, legs clenched against her chest. Her bloodshot eyes turned toward her mother’s bedroom. She was panting, her hand still in throbbing pain. “I’m gonna call them,” she said to herself.
~
“Engine 61,Medic 61, unknown medical, 725 Meadow Drive, PD en route.”
“Hey, we’re going to see Gina!” Ben said from the candy aisle of a 7-Eleven.
“It’s been a while,” Alex commented.
“Must have been what? Two weeks?”
“Somebody else went on her a few days ago. She was probably disappointed it was not you!”
“Yeah, she’s the girl of my dreams, nice and nuts, the way I like it.”
The duo climbed in the front of the ambulance for the short ride to Gina’s residence.
The ambulance stopped in front a one-story 1950’s house with dying grass and overgrown weeds. They took the gurney out already loaded with their usual equipment. They walked up the slightly inclined driveway to the front door.
Gina was routine. Alex and Ben went to her house once or twice a month. She was almost family by now. Some other crews went when they were not working. The poor girl was really out there. She was not truly insane. That would not be fair to say that about her, but the situation with her mother was completely overwhelming her. The social workers visited her house on a regular basis, not as often as Ben did, but they still came fairly often. Nothing came out of the visits, a couple of recommendations, but nothing more. One day, they would find her cold, or perhaps not. She did not have the courage or the will to go that far. Calling 911 was a break for her to get away from her abusive mother.
They banged on the front door.
“EMS!” Ben called.
The white Engine 61 parked by the driveway. An older style red light bar flashing with a curvy red Stone Falls Fire Dept. over the city coat of arms, and Engine 61 beneath it.
Three firefighters walked up the driveway as if they were going to watch a matinee movie. It was Gina you know…
The young girl opened the door, face flushed from crying, demented eyes bulging out, and an uncontrollable tremor rattling her frail body. “I can’t do this anymore… I just can’t… it needs to change…”
“I know, Gina, it’s going to be ok. Do you want us to bring you to the hospital today?” Alex asked.
“I need to go, please… take me away…” her voice shook as if she had taken a swim in a frozen lake.
Her mother was ranting from her bedroom at the end of the corridor. “Go ahead! Take her! She’ll be back tomorrow! She’s worthless anyway! You take her!”
“You boys can load her up. I’m going to see the mother to make sure she’s all right and we’re out of here,” Captain Johnson said, resigned.
The two medics loaded her in the back of the modular ambulance. They did their medical assessment, even if there was nothing physical to find. The issue
was in her mind, buried deep inside the confines of her crumbling brain. She might have been happy in a conventional family, but her nonexistent father and abusive mother could only unleash the demons within her skull.
Cubbies
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with me?” Jessica asked her older sister from the entrance of her room.
“I thought about it very hard, but… I’ll pass on it.”
“You don’t need to be sarcastic,” Jessica said with a soft voice, “it would be like when we were kids.”
“Well, breaking news, sis, we aren’t kids anymore, at least not me. If you want to hang out with your four-year-old buddies, that’s your problem. Please, knock yourself out.”
“We don’t hang out. We play games, sing a few songs, and learn some simple Bible verses. That’s it.”
She chuckled, “I’m going to gag,” she said lying back on her bed and hiding her face into her hands adorned with thick rings and black nail polish. “God, how did you become so weird?”
“I’m not the one who redecorated my room to look like…”
“Like what?” Tracy asked staring at the ceiling.
“Like hell.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about Heaven and Hell, and all that garbage they shoved down our throats in Sunday School.” She leaned on her elbow, “See, I was going more for a good old voodoo look, with a hint of Goth.”
Jessica didn’t comment. “I’m leaving at 6:00 tonight. You can go if you change your mind.”
“Friday evening, trust me, I won’t change my mind. I have a boyfriend, some beer,” She gave a fake cough, “I mean, some orange juice, and we’re going to hang out with my friend Mary J. by the old factory for a while.”
“Who’s Mary J.?” Jessica asked.
“You’re sweet, sis. Get out of here.”
Jessica walked out of the room, her heart aching for her sister. She didn’t know what to do for her. She felt like she was slipping away from her and their shared values, family, honesty, humility, and above all, her love for the Lord. They had grown up in a small church where everybody knew and cared for each other. Every Sunday, they went to Sunday school and to the service with their parents. On Friday evenings, she went to Cubbies when she was young. She then followed the program for the teenagers. Jessica had decided to volunteer as soon as she could. Her friends tried to pull her into the group for her own age, but she wanted to stay with the young kids, the Cubbies. She thought she could have a better influence on them. Later, the young children became rebellious teens dragged to church by their parents. By high school, most of them worried more about spending time with their boyfriends rather than God. It was sad. She could make a difference with the younger kids, so she diligently went every Friday evening.
She parked her old Toyota Camry on the upper parking lot overlooking the playground, two basketball courts, and a children’s area with matted flooring and a small colored castle with short stairs and a yellow slide.
She liked to arrive early. It gave her time to reflect and pray. She enjoyed walking through the facility making sure the necessary equipment was ready for the evening, usually not more than a few orange cones and a few balls for the games. Before that, there would be some singing for twenty minutes and a simple Bible study for one group while the other one played outside. After forty-five minutes, the two groups swapped activities.
The first parents arrived with their children in the fellowship hall, a multi-purpose room used to teach the kids on Friday evenings, for Sunday luncheons, or even as a Dojo for karate lessons on Saturday mornings. The younger ones, the little sweethearts floating in an age range fitting on a single hand, stayed with their parents for a minute or two. They looked for familiar faces, clung to their parents’ legs for another minute, and then finally ran to their friends.
The older ones belonged there. They escaped the parental control the instant they walked in to cause trouble with their Cubbies’ friends. Anything was good for a ruckus, running around the carpeted room, hiding behind stacks of chairs, or even pushing a girl when nobody was watching.
The parents trickled in as they dropped their kids off. Jessica greeted them as they arrived with the best smile she could muster. She felt proud to be there and take care of their little ones. She knew most faces, the regulars attending the church from before she was even born. Once in a while, a new visage came by, but they were not the majority. They came to expose their kids to Christianity or to use the church as a free babysitter. Jessica didn’t want to know the real reason why they were there. She was treating everybody the same. Who knew? She might indirectly coax the parents to God!
Amanda Walker, the old diner’s owner, passed by with a friendly nod. “Hi, Jessica! Looks like you’re going to have your hands full tonight!” She said with the voice of a cheerleader before a game. Life was great and exciting. She loved Stone Falls. She loved the restaurant she had inherited from her mother, and she loved her church.
Her daughter looked like her mother with blond hair and pale blue eyes. Amanda had tackled motherhood late in life. Or maybe not, early forties was not that old. Her mommy’s looks were not as charming as they used to be (working sixteen-hour days at the diner was not kind to her skin and hair), but she didn’t care. She was happy to be there. She enjoyed her customers and worked hard.
She stopped before going any further. She gently grabbed Jessica by the arm.
“Jessica, I have a new killer Belgium waffle at the diner, with homemade whipped cream, strawberries, and the whole works. Stop by one of these evenings and I’ll give you one on the house. You got to try it.”
Jessica smiled. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Walker.”
Amanda Walker tapped her on the back with the touch of a caring mother and walked away after a last goodbye to her daughter.
A tall man with short dark hair and varicella scars entered the large room with an inquiring look. He was not particularly well-dressed, but he carried a certain elegance with dark-brown dress shoes, neat blue jeans, and a suede leather jacket over a shirt.
She walked to him. “Hi! My name is Jessica. I’m one of the leaders. Is this your first time to our church?”
The man’s gaze fell on her like a crosshair.
An uneasy tingle travelled down her spine.
He held a young boy by the hand. “Hi, young lady, my name is Jeff Simons. This is my son, Mathieu.”
She shook his cold hand and introduced herself. Usually she would have kneeled to greet the little boy, but not this time. The child was adorable with large innocent eyes and thick cheeks, but it would not have been the right move. “Hi, Mathieu.”
The little boy waved.
“I’m going to take you to your new friends.”
“What time should I come back to pick him up?”
“At 9:45,” she said without mirth.
His cold eyes stayed on her.
She wondered about his age, but he was old enough to be her father.
“Well, I’ll be leaving. I’m so glad my son will be in good hands with such a lovely lady. Your boyfriend is very lucky.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said with a step back.
“It’s such a shame that I am not younger.”
Jessica’s blood froze. She quickly glanced around her for another counselor, somebody to go close to, but everybody else was in their own world, busy preparing the Bible study or the games. She was alone in the middle of a small scattered crowd.
“I’ll see you later on, young Jessica,” the man said with a lifeless look in his brown eyes.
The games that night were different. She cheered her team without enthusiasm, and she found herself hiding in the bathroom when the parents came back to pick up the children. She did not talk to anybody about the man either. What if she was overreacting? What if he was just friendly? She lied to herself for a while sitting alone in a stall. When most of the parents’ voices died down, she stepped out of the bathroom, she said goodbye to the other counsel
ors and walked to the gate at the edge of the playground. She loved everything about her church, the people, the games, worshipping together, down to the smell in the building, but this was different.
Tonight, for the first time in over a decade attending the church, the building had a sinister look, ominous of dark times to come. Even the narrow alley behind the church was lost in a foggy gloom beneath yellow dim street lighting. Jessica had never noticed their color before.
She stopped at the gate, unable to go further.
One of the other counselors, a quirky Frenchman, (a Frenchman in Stone Falls!) approached from behind her.
“Hey girly! How was it tonight?” he said in a jovial voice.
“Oh, hi, Laurent,” she answered, startled. “It was good,” she said without conviction. “Are you leaving?”
“Indeed I am. Why? Do you need a ride?”
“No… I just wanted to… where are you parked?”
“Further down,” Laurent pointed toward the right side of the dark alley.
“Me too, I’ll walk with you.” Laurent was not a martial-arts expert, but at over 180 pounds, he offered some reasonable protection. But what against? She was still thinking about her short encounter with Mr. Simons. She knew it didn’t make sense. She knew he would be with his son anyway, but she felt she was being stalked, and she hated that sensation.
Laurent’s voice lost its glee. “Is everything all right, Jess? You look worried.”
“It’s nothing. I’m a little bit tired. That’s all.”
“You know you can always talk to one of us if you need to.”
“I know.”
Lost in her thoughts, Jessica walked next to Laurent in silence.
“That’s my car, over there,” she pointed at her old Toyota. “Thanks for walking with me.”
“Ah, that’s nothing. You have a good night, Jessica.”
She wished him the same and sat in her car. She immediately locked the door and looked over her shoulders. Her bodyguard was walking away.
