Love Rewards The Brave (7 page)

41.

Jodie Lynn Cratchett

found them

both.

Both crying.

Both scared.

Two little boys not knowing how the world

could be so cruel

as to not prepare

them for this kind of pain.

Both broken.

Both bending

in two

as they sat so confused

about what had just happened.

42.

After that Jodie Lynn Cratchett

closed up shop.

We were her only form of employment,

but the kids had to go

someplace else.

She was “traumatized.”

Not really understanding that

Benji was just a kid

confused

a boy beaten by his dad,

not knowing what to use

when his fists stopped giving him the

feeling he sought after so much abuse.

43.

I ended up at Ms. Francine’s.

A far cry from toddlers and chores.

Benji wasn’t so lucky.

No home would take a boy like him

had to protect the other kids.

So he went to a group home

lock down

alarm bells

no one to hurt

no one to hold

him

if he cried out at night

from the nightmares

that clouded his

life-long

fears.

And Samuel?

I can only pray

to a God

I have no faith in

got no reason

to believe in.

I hold out hope

to this day

that he got out

okay
alive.

44.

The Christmas tree gets cut down

after many

talks on the best

sizeheightvariety.

I’m mostly trying

hard

to

be

noncommittal.

Because every time

I seem to act

involved

Benji chooses that moment to

withdraw

himself from the

situation

conversation

which makes me feel like

I’m doing everything wrong.

Like he needs me to stay strong.

And to him that means

Us against Them.

It means walls up

guard up

made up

our minds to be

One
Won.

The thing is

the real thing is

that I like

cutting down a tree with Margot

and Ms. Francine.

And every time I let my walls

down

or guard

down,

Benji

thinks

I’ve let him down.

45.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I say as soon as we get back to the house.

Ms. Francine’s looking

for the decorations.

And even though

their tradition seems fun

to me,

I know Benji’s too angry

to participate

and not willing to fake

his enjoyment

any longer.

The street’s empty.

The November air

turns my breath white

my hands clasp tight

ly

to one another.

“Benji, are you having a good time here? You like Ms. Francine’s?”

“Yeah, she’s cool, Lou-Lou. I mean, you know, for someone getting paid to take care of you.”

“Well, yeah, it’s better than Jodie’s house.”

“No shit. I hated being there.”

Benji speaks with such authority,

like, over me.

This sense of superiority.

“Yeah, I like Ms. F a lot better. She has nice friends and seems, you know, put together. Like a grownup.”

I say that because I mean it.

Ms. F is different from anything

I’ve ever known before.

But saying it out loud

makes me feel like a whore.

You know, someone who’s been going around

looking for the best opportunity.

Possibility.

“She’s fine and all, Lou-Lou, but we have to get out of here. The place I’m at–– you’ve been there. It sucks.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I saw mom the other day. She looked good. Better.”

“So? Why are you telling me this?”

His eyes go black,

like he was expecting

or hoping

wishing

or wanting

me to say something

different.

“Benji, she’s getting her shit together. She’s going to get us back. We can be a family again.”

“Did you tell her you wanted that?”

“Well, yeah. I told her we both did.”

Benji takes out a cigarette.

Lights it up with a yellow flame.

The air suddenly charged with

blame.

“Where did you get that? I thought Ms. F took them away?”

Why is my baby boy,

my little Benji Boy,

acting so big and tough?

Where’s my

chubby

fingers

kiss

me goodnight

as I wipe his wet

tear-stained

cheeks lullaby

boy?

“You gonna start telling me what do, Lou-Lou? What’s your problem?”

“I thought you’d be happy. Excited or something. What’s
your
problem?”

He storms off

cuts through the neighbor’s yard.

Jumps over a fence

and then I can’t trace

him against

the gray

backdrop

anymore.

Calling out

his name

to the night sky

makes no difference.

He can’t hear anything

over his decided

ignorance

to the fact

I tried so hard

to make him happy.

46.

Ms. F is pissed.

And rightfully so.

It was on her watch that

he ran

away

from me on the street

away

from her house

and that means

she’s the one

deemed

responsible for

the paperwork and

the phone calls.

As the social worker

and caseworker

and who the hell

knows what else kind of worker

goes to find

Benji.

The evening

becomes middle of the night

becomes morning.

47.

“So you really have no clue why he just up and left like that?”

Margot asks as she cooks me breakfast.

Ms. F left to take Benji’s

bag of clothes

to his new

temporary home.

Back to the place they took him

after the cops found him at

4:30 am

on the side of the road

after everyone spent the night

stressed out

put out

bent out

of shape

because a twelve-year-old boy

in the custody

of the state

is not the kind

they want missing.

“I don’t wanna talk about it okay?”

And I don’t.

I know I have an appointment

with Terry on Monday

and I know that will be bad enough.

Relaying the facts of the

conversation

giving a good enough

explanation.

I wasn’t about to say

anymore than I needed to.

“Okay, we can talk about something else.” Margot shrugs, easily. “Do you think I should dye my hair black?”

She smiles at me.

I have no clue

how to read this
girl
woman.

I smile anyway.

“It’d look cool. I mean, especially with your green eyes.”

“I’m pretty sick of bleaching it out so much. Black seems easier.”

“My friend, Jess, she’s super good at dying hair. She’s the one who does mine.”

“Does she live nearby?” Margot asks with a sly grin.

Like we’re doing something

we shouldn’t.

Committing a sin.

But we all know

coloring your hair

is not what hell-bent girls are made of.

At least not entirely.

48.

By the time the color is bought

and Jess comes over

and a dripping wet Margot is

laughing in the bathroom,

Ms. F returns.

She comes up with her phone

and takes pictures

of us as we strike

our best

glamour girl poses.

We sit around waiting

for the minutes to pass

for the color to set.

Jess becomes enamored

by everything Margot.

Like her job at the 6-Spot

the only record

store in town.

Asking questions about her

sleeve of tattoos.

Jess showing off her own

hoping to hear something

new

about how awesome it is

and how she picked something cool

for a girl so young.

But Margot

doesn’t do any of that.

Margot is almost too

cool

to

say something

so

typical.

Margot asks Jess questions about

Markus

and why she likes him.

Jess squirms a bit in her chair

while I laugh

knowing the truth behind the no-good answer.

That it mostly starts with a booty

and ends with a call.

Just when I start to regret

having Jess come over

because I’m scared it’s going to be

all about her

and never about me

(just thinking that way makes me feel gross)

that’s when Margot stops

and grabs a brush

and she starts smoothing out

my hair.

I don’t know why

the moment she

pulls my hair up with her hands

and starts brushing through

the strands

as we stand looking in the mirror

at one another

why it’s that moment

that makes my

heart

feel

seen?

But it does.

And by the time Margot dries her hair

and Jess cuts her bangs

a little crooked on purpose

so that they look just right

it’s like

last night never happened

and that

these two

have been a part of my life

since

day one.