When he doesn’t reply, I continue. “Let’s see. Well, we’ve already agreed you’re not in the military. Are you a biker?
He looks at me, offended and surprised. “What makes you ask that?”
I shrug. “You have a few tattoos on your arms.
He tries, unsuccessfully, to pull his sleeves down to hide the worn ink. “No. And for your information I never graduated from training wheels.”
I nod. “Alright. You own a knife and obviously know how to use it. Have you ever been in a gang?”
He chuckles harshly. “What kind of an assumption is that? My dad collected knives!” He leans back roughly and rolls his eyes. “Thanks for making me feel a hundred times better about myself.”
“I wasn’t finished yet. I have one more assumption to make.” I gather my thoughts, making sure I say the right thing. “You have a lot of pain and deep hurt. Something terrible happened to you or to someone you really loved.”
I know I’m on the right track when he stays silent.
“I know what that’s like when devastating things happen and you don’t have any control over them. I…” I have to pause. Can I really share this?
My hesitation has peeked Joseph’s curiosity and he’s waiting for me to go on.
I gulp and carefully explain, “I was where you are right now, just six months ago. Angry, full of hate, and desperation. I hated myself and God. I was ready to just end it all.”
Joseph is watching me intently now.
“We both tired to do something desperate, Joseph. Thank God neither of us succeeded.” He turns away but I rest a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re not a bad guy. You’re hurting and you need to let it out in a healthy and positive way.”
He shrugs my hand off and I close my eyes for a second and then I pick up my unfinished braid. While I do, a thought occurs to me.
“A very wise and kind woman once told me, that hurt will only grow as strong as you allow it to.”
Joseph slowly turns and looks at me funny. “What did you say?”
I start to repeat the quote, but Joseph impatiently shakes his head. “No, I mean where did you hear that? Who told you that?”
I smile fondly as I think of her. It didn’t matter that she was homeless, she was an angel. “Her name was Floy.”
Joseph just slumps in his seat and stares off into space. Then he starts crying softly.
Chapter fifteen
Susan
I had to get away to recover. It may seem silly, but I never have gotten over the flood my family went through when I was a little girl. We had a lot of damage to our house and belongings. The disaster has stuck with me all these years. I don’t like to dwell on it though.
I probably shouldn’t have left Amelia with George the way I did. He seems like a nice guy, but he doesn’t strike me as the type who enjoys spending time with kids.
I leave the restroom and head back toward the main area. To my surprise, Amelia is curled up in George’s lap and she’s sharing her clay-dough. She has such a sweet heart.
I take my time approaching the table. I hate to disrupt a sweet moment like this. After all the fighting and danger, it’s refreshing to watch this scene.
Amelia sees me first and she squeals with delight. “Mommy! George has two puppies!”
George shakes his head tiredly. “Dogs. Not puppies.”
Amelia points to the large window. Outside, the sun is coming up and its rays are piercing through the gray clouds. The parking lot is vacant besides a few cars and trucks that belong to us.
“It’s morning! Can we go home now?”
Oh, how I wish I could say yes. “No, baby. Not until the police come and tell us it’s safe.”
Amelia crawls down from George’s lap and tugs on my skirt. “Call the police, mommy! Like you did before.”
As if I wasn’t embarrassed by the outburst already, Amelia returns to George’s side. “Mommy called the police and three police cars came to our house! Mommy was crying a lot. Daddy talked to the policeman and then they left.”
George leans his arm on the table and faces Amelia. “Were you scared?”
“No. Not till daddy started yelling at mommy.”
George glances at me and I can’t read his expression. Does he think I’m a bad mother? He probably does.
After a moment, George says to my daughter, “Do you like to read?”
“Oh, yes!”
He points back toward the children section. “Why don’t you go pick out a few books and we’ll read them.”
I’m stunned as I watch Amelia skip away. I start to call for her, but George quickly stops me.
“We need to talk.” His tone is serious.
George
I pull out a chair for Susan and she sits down hesitantly.
“I’m not going to bite you. I just want to talk.” She tries to relax, but I can tell she’s panicky. After some of the stuff Amelia told me that goes on at home, I can sort of see why she’s such a timid person.
I take a breath and scratch my chin. When this is over, I need a shave. And a vacation.
I’m not sure how to word what I need to say. I’ve always been better at writing than talking. I notice my pencil laying in front of me and am suddenly inspired.
“As a writer, I’ve gone through my own share of pencils. In a hot temper, I’ve snapped several pencils in half and thrown them across the room. Was it the pencil’s fault? Not in the least. I reacted wrongly and took it out on my writing tool.
“Now, I’ve used a pencil that I’ve snapped in half, many times. It works, but it’s still broken. And even if I tried to tape it back together, it’s still broken and nothing can change that.
“Susan, you are that broken pencil. It doesn’t make you a bad mother. I will say that you need to work on disciplining Amelia, but you didn’t do anything to deserve the abuse. Even though you try to hide or ignore your brokenness, it doesn’t change the facts.”
What I’ve said must have made an impression. She’s tearing up.
She wipes a tear away and quietly asks, “So…so what do I do?”
“What do you do when a pencil is worn down? You sharpen it. And once it’s sharpened, it writes better and neater. Susan, you’ve got to get yourself and Amelia out of this relationship. It isn’t healthy for you or the kid. I’m no expert, but there’s dozens of organizations that can get you the right help you need. You just need to take that first step.”
Just then, Amelia returns with an armload of books. What did I get myself into? I said get a few books, not unload an entire shelf.
There’s just a second left to talk to Susan and I take advantage of it. “No pencil ever said it’s easy getting sharpened, but it’s worth it in the end.”
Susan nods and I notice a change in her demeanor. I hope that means she’ll try to do something about her home life.
I guess I should be getting used to the kid hanging on me, but it’s still annoying. I mean, do I look like Santa? Amelia thrust the first book at me titled, The Cat Stuck in the Box. What kind of lame title is that? And as for the plot… I think I’m going to be sick.
Susan hasn’t left yet. She’s in a daze. I check the time on the wall. “Susan, it’s almost time for you to relieve Melody. I guess Amelia can stay with me.”
Guess who isn’t going to get any writing done. Me.
Marc
Well, it took quiet a while longer than I would like, but my second temporary office is complete, though not near as good as the one upstairs.
Decent building materials are pretty limited down here, so I had to make do with some chairs. It’s a good thing I have an in-home gym with all the latest equipment, or it would have been a real struggle to carry those heavy chairs over. I even had to loosen my tie.
There are far too many open spots in the wall for my taste. I can see straight though, which means I have next to no privacy. I sigh and decide to let it slide. What I need now is a sign that reads: Do Not Disturb. Ever.
I’m ready to settle down inside my temporary office and jot down some notes for my
presentation to the committee. It’s coming up in a few weeks and I like to be prepared ahead of time. I’m putting together a flashy slideshow that I’m positive they’ll enjoy.
Some distance away, Joseph is watching me. Perhaps he feels awful about trying to murder me. After all, I mean a lot to this world. When he apologizes to me, I may openly forgive him to show everyone that Marc Amos has a good heart.
I return to my notes and try to come up with a catchy one-liner for the presentation that won’t be easily forgotten. It occurs to me to see if George can be of any use to me, but I shove the thought away quickly. The last thing I need is help from a slob. The same slob who owes me a laptop.
No, I’ll figure it out for myself. Marc Amos always does.
Joseph
Minutes later and my eyes are still sore from crying. I probably look like a zombie with blood-shot eyes. Rubbing them only makes them worse.
It’s obvious Susan is uncomfortable sitting near me. She keeps avoiding making eye contact and she won’t stop playing with her fingers. I’m surprised her daughter isn’t with her. Usually you can’t separate the two.
I can faintly hear the big guy reading aloud to the kid. I snort in amusement. Never thought I’d see him take to Amelia like that. Next thing you know, he’ll be giving her piggy-back rides . Nick always used to do that for me when I was a kid. I always got a chuckle out of it.
Thinking of my brother, reminds me of my mom, Floy. What are the odds that Melody knew her? Mom always used to always say that quote of hers to me back when I was in school, “Hurt will only grow as strong as you allow it to.” Let’s just say I wasn’t the most popular or well-liked kid. I kind of got bullied. Nothing major, but whoever said words don’t hurt, never went to public school.
Before Melody left, I wanted so bad to ask her a million questions. How was mom? Was she comfortable? Was she getting enough food? Where was she living? Did…did she miss me?
I choke back a few tears. How could mom let that happen? It was selfish and prideful for her to keep it all from us. Nick and I could have helped her. She could have stayed with one of us. Mom would never be a burden.
Just thinking about it makes me angry all over again. I clench my fists tightly, unwilling to let go. Without thinking I blurt out, “If you were in trouble, would you tell your daughter? Or would you be too prideful?”
Susan jumps a bit at my sudden outburst and she stares at me wide-eyed. “Pardon?”
I roll my eyes and wave my hands. “Forget it.”
An awkward silence follows until Susan asks, “What sort of trouble?”
“Financial,” I immediately reply.
Susan is pretty quick to answer. “At her age, never.”
“What if she were grown and out on her own?”
Susan gives a sad smile and looks over at Amelia. She listening intently to George as he reads to her. “I hate to think of my baby grown up and gone.” She pauses as she considers my question.
“I would like to think that when Amelia is older, we will have a strong relationship. Not just mother and daughter, but good friends as well. If that does happen, I don’t see why I wouldn’t share my troubles. Just as I would expect her to share her troubles with me.”
I frown thoughtfully and dig at my hair, which isn’t the easiest with my hands tied. Our family was really close, it doesn’t make any sense. “Then why didn’t…” I stop myself from saying anymore.
Susan shakes her head and gives me a look that only a mother figure can pull off. “A decision like that, is personal. I can’t speak for others or explain why they make the choices they make.”
I open my mouth to protest. It was a hypothetical question, nothing more.
Susan stops me and continues, “The only thing I can tell you for sure is that most mothers make hard choices out of love. Her love isn’t always easy to understand or easy to explain, but it will always be the motive for her actions.”
Why am I such an emotional wreck right now? As if my eyes didn’t sting already, more hot tears fall. I bow my head, unable to carry the weight anymore.
“She never said a word to us. Never let on that she was so bad off. She should have said something! But no, she lost her home and had to live out in the cold; hungry and alone. If I had only known…”
Susan wraps her arms around me in a hug. “Your mom wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. She’d want you to be happy and enjoy life.”
I shake my head. No one understands. “How can I be happy when she’s gone and her murder is in this room?”
In a lower tone, Susan states, “You believe Marc is responsible.”
“Yes.” The word flies out like a poisonous dart ready to strike.
Susan nods slowly. “Have you ever confronted him about it? It’s always better to talk things out.”
Melody
My heart aches for poor Joseph. Even though our situations are different, I have a faint idea of how he’s feeling. I didn’t want to leave him, but at least Susan is a tender soul and will look after him.
I have no clue why the mention of Floy upset him so. Could she be a friend of his? A relative? I only talked to Floy a couple of times and she didn’t share too much about herself. She was more concerned about me.
I’m thankful the sun is up and shinning brightly. I love the library, but not so much in the late hours. Especially in complete darkness. I shudder, remembering how scary it was when the power went out.
Back to Joseph, I wish there was something I could do to help ease his hurt. My stomach suddenly growls and I know just what I can do. A nice breakfast may just be the thing he needs. While I’m at it, I’ll make breakfast for all of us.
I smile to myself as I hurry toward the breakroom. It always feels good to help others. My smile fades slightly when I reach the door and start to turn the knob. Current circumstances or not, I still think it’s wrong to break rules.
I let out a breath and remind myself that Joseph needs a good meal. I turn the knob quickly and hurry inside. The linoleum floor is cool beneath my bare feet.
The breakroom is smaller than I thought it would be. I didn’t go in when Susan did, so it’s new to me. I walk around the four round tables and chairs, and head to the cupboards to begin my search.
I find a box of crackers, a variety of unopened sauces and dressings, and a few packs of instant hot chocolate and coffee.
I admit I was upset with Susan for just taking food earlier. It felt like stealing. It still does.
I close the cupboard doors and open the small fridge. To my surprise, there’s a box of mini microwaveable pancakes. There’s a note attached to the box. It reads:
For those who have the early hours. Enjoy!
I turn the box over and study it. “We are here during the early hours. But whoever the generous soul was who left them, probably meant it to be for employees.”
Just as I’m ready to replace the pancakes, a door I hadn’t noticed before, opens. I freeze suddenly and watch as the librarian enters the rooms. Her curly hair is knotted and frizzy from sleep and she’s yawning loudly.
Finally, she sees me. She’s alert now as her eyes are wide and frightened. Her eyes dart around, as if trying to verify she’s in the right room.
I smile and greet her in a calming tone. “Hi, I’m Melody, from yesterday. You don’t have to be afraid of us. There was only one situation with a knife, but it’s taken care of now.”
She steps back fearfully and I can see her hand fumbling behind her for the knob.
I hold up a hand to show her that I mean no harm. “Please, you don’t have to hide. We’re all in this together.”
Without a single word, she screams and dashes back to her room. I distinctly hear the click of a lock.
I shake my head sadly. “The poor dear. She’s scared to death and probably starving!” I still have the pancakes in my hand and I now I know just what to do.<
br />
I get to work right away, finding paper plates, and tearing open the plastic wrappers. The microwave hums softly as the pancakes inside heat up and I return to the cupboard to find microwavable mugs for coffee.
While breakfast is being made, I find a lone pencil in a drawer and scribble out a note on a napkin to the librarian; informing her that we really don’t mean her any harm and that after the lockdown is over, we will pay to replace the food we ate.
Before leaving the room with our breakfast, I set the librarian’s note beside a plate of five steaming pancakes and a Styrofoam cup of coffee.
A good breakfast always lifts up one’s spirit.
Chapter sixteen
Susan
I was surprised how quickly Joseph agreed to my suggestion. While we wait for everyone to join us, I’ve been thinking a lot about Amelia and our home life.
Suppose something were to happen to me. Mitch would never mean to actually kill me. But it’s possible. What would happen to Amelia? Would she hold an animosity towards her dad? Would she try to avenge my death? That’s no life, carrying around all that hate.
I shake my head and rub my eyes. I’ve never considered this before. And what’s more, Amelia would be left alone with Mitch. No one would be there to protect her. I hate to think that he would hit our baby, but with me gone… what would happen to her?
I cover my mouth and soak in this terrifying reality. I can never let that happen. I must do something. I mentally make a promise to myself and Amelia, that once this lockdown is over, things are going to change.
I close my eyes and let out a peaceful breath. I can’t even begin to explain how I feel now. Mostly triumphant and strong. Partly afraid and worried. But I also feel a spark of hope, like anything is possible.
Amelia hops up in my lap as she and George join us. Marc takes his time arriving. I hadn’t noticed he was hiding on the corner. I don’t see Melody anywhere.
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