by E. Graziani
“Sinbad. His name was Sinbad.”
“Yeah, that’s right—Sinbad. Holy smokes.” I can feel the doctor’s eyes on me. He’s watching me, how I react, what I say, and what I do.
“Are you thinking about that day, Faith?” I feel foreboding Darkness all around me.
“Talk to me about it,” says Dr. October.
Gran’s watching both of us now. “What is it?” she asks. “What’s the mat—”
“Shh. Let her speak.”
I close my eyes and let the gloom wash over me. “This is so hard for me,” I whisper. Let me chase the dragon.
“I know. It’s all right; it can’t hurt you,” the doctor presses. “Tell me.”
“I think about that day and I know that I can tell you the color of Sinbad’s shirt, how the older cop’s eyes look when they put him out on the ambulance stretcher, where the blood splatters are on the sidewalk and on the wall in Sinbad’s hallway, and how the back of the younger cop’s head is missing.”
“God almighty,” Gran whispers. She puts a hand to her mouth.
“Momma saved me that day—I was standing at the window watching, and she came up to the bedroom and threw me down and lay on top of me so I wouldn’t get hurt. I’ll never forget that either.”
“That may be it, Faith. Everyone has one pivotal moment, somewhere in their lifetime, where they can say, this changed my life. Is that yours, Faith?”
Suddenly it all comes to me. My life is a cycle, a sometimes small, sometimes large spiral. At times it veers close to the experience and other times not so much, but it is always there. My life circled that day. The worst day of my life and the best day. The worst day because I saw two people die horribly. The best day because my mother would have willingly sacrificed her very life to save me, crystallizing her devotion to me forever in my mind—and mine for her. I relive that day every day. It affects everything I did, everything I do, and only now do I come to realize it.
I am lucid and logical. Everything makes sense. It wasn’t me—it was never me. I wasn’t a freak. I turn to my grandmother and reach for her hand. “Mom threw herself on top of me that day. She would have died for me, Gran. That’s why I can’t blame her.”
“I know she did. She loved you so.” Gran’s voice cracks as she squeezes my hand. “Your momma loved Simon, too, and when she didn’t have him anymore, she needed to fill that space—it was just something that she couldn’t live without. And though she never admitted it, that overwhelming need to fill Simon’s space with someone else, well…” She shakes her head and looks down. “…it took over every part of her life. She tried to be everything she thought Simon would want, instead of believing that she was good enough just as she was. She loved you girls so much. You need to know that, Faith. Then, maybe, you can forgive her, and go on.”
I feel them build and then the sobs come in waves, huge rogue waves that shake me to my core. I fall to the floor and put my face in my grandmother’s lap, helpless, much like the toddler so many years ago, looking out the bedroom window at an arrest going bad. Gran cries, too. I’ve never seen her cry before. Perhaps this is a good time for both of us to shed tears for my mother.
...
“It’s post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD for short,” said Dr. October later that day after Gran and I had regained our composure. “It was never treated properly—probably wasn’t even on anybody’s radar back then, especially where kids were concerned. You’ll need continued counseling and psychotherapy, but hopefully, now that you’ve been diagnosed, we can all work through it. This is good news, Faith. Good news.”
Chapter 31
Occasionally, I feel a visceral, deep pain bubble to the surface. A pain for which there are no words. I sense it flowing out of me until I feel a little rebirth. I will feel this over and over again in my life, of that I am sure. This pain will come in many forms: cravings to chase the dragon one more time; anxiety, like when I need to run, run, run away from the things I can’t handle; crushing sadness, the animal in my stomach eating my happiness. It’s life, isn’t it?
“You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.” Bob Marley said that. And now I understand.
The pain will always come and go, and I need to recognize that and deal with it in my own way—never like everybody else, because I’m not like everybody else. And that’s okay, too.
Time is racing on. Next week, I’m starting high school courses at a local adult education center on the advice of my counselor. I’ll work on my diploma, on my own terms, on my good days, and work around my sessions. They are the most important thing in my life right now—besides my sisters, of course. Connie will continue university and go on to law school or whatever she ends up doing, and Destiny will no doubt win a Nobel Prize before she’s thirty. And I will go on. I will take pride in each and every victory, each day of my life, and I will be the strong and courageous person I know my momma, my gran, and my sisters will be proud of.
I, Faith Emily Hansen, am happy with me for the first time since I can’t remember when. I’m eating healthy, taking my meds, attending sessions, and soon I will start school. Yes, I think I’m allowed to be happy. I will keep writing and loving and struggling and turning the page to the next day, just like Mrs. Lieberman said I should.
I guess this is where the old-soldier metaphor comes into play—you know, the one I talked about at the beginning of this thing? Soldiers are at war, they struggle, get shot at, get hurt, and fight their battles. Maybe they get screwed up, but they have to keep on fighting—there’s no other alternative.
I still need to talk and talk and talk about everything and share my pain and my joy—yes, I can feel that now. And I know that my talking helps others, and others talk and talk to me and give me their pain. That way everything is shared and passed around, and when that happens, the load is lighter and it’s just easier to carry.
Call it distraction, call it focus, call it a load of crap, but that works for me.
Anyway, for now, this is my ending. I keep moving forward, because there really is no other alternative.
And I keep writing.
...
It’s early morning right now, on a hot and brilliant Friday just before the Labour Day weekend. Destiny, Constance, and I are walking on the Beaches boardwalk, not far from the Mimi’s Natural Grocer apartment where Mrs. Lieberman lived and died, and where I got hooked on heroin. My flip-flops are making a slappy sound as I walk, and I have my hands in the pockets of my jean shorts.
“Can’t beat this, eh? I’m gonna miss this when I go back to Greenleigh,” says Des. Her gaze shifts to the lake, where sailboats dot the smooth water.
“And I’m gonna miss you,” Connie says, taking Destiny in a gentle headlock. “I’m so glad you stayed with us this summer. It gave us a chance to get to know each other again, right, Faith?”
“Yeah—hundred percent.” My hand spontaneously finds Connie’s and we lock fingers.
“And don’t forget, Des, you’re coming back in a couple weeks and then we are in Greenleigh for Thanksgiving,” Connie says. Destiny nods.
“So, already second year of high school—that’s, like, way too fast for me,” I say.
Destiny scuttles around behind us to my other side and slips her hand in mine. She draws in a deep breath and asks, “So, you’re sure you’re staying here, Faith, and not coming back to Greenleigh?” Her eyes look at me pleadingly.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m gonna be fine. No, wait—I will be well—that’s better.” I try to think of how I can explain it to her so she can understand why I’m not returning. “Like, I have a really good doctor here who understands what I need. He helps me to see who I can be, you know? I think the only way to get through this is by believing that I have the potential to be someone…to do something…meaningful.” I shrug. “Maybe I can even help others who are like me. That’
d be a good thing, right?”
Destiny nods, and Connie sends a smile her way. We’re swinging our hands in unison now, like we did when we were little kids.
“You’re gonna be okay, Des, if your brain doesn’t explode because it’s too full of facts and things. And Connie, here, is going to be the next Amal Clooney. And I’m gonna be all right. We’re all going to be fine.” I smile at them, and we keep on swinging our arms as we walk out onto the warm sand.
Afterword
I recently woke up with a gnawing sense of sadness, not knowing the reason for it. As my consciousness lifted from sleep, my brain ran a quick check of the events from the day before. Nothing. Again, I tried to muster some recollection of what was causing this lucid yet peripheral feeling of sadness and I realized it was the hidden sorrow in a distinct pleasure, Breaking Faith, E. Graziani’s fifth novel. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the book and it was clear that the authentic characters and powerful depiction of social and individual forces had affected me.
The realistic portrayal of Faith, the story’s protagonist, takes the reader right into her tragic life; one can’t help but wonder if E. Graziani knew Faith personally. In speaking with the author, it becomes apparent that she knows hundreds of Faiths through her career as a school teacher; and has felt the urge to right the wrongs—the seed for the book.
How do children become happy functional adults? The outcome depends on a myriad of interacting factors, some are determined before birth, such as genetic predisposition for certain traits, socioeconomic status of the parents, and maternal habits during pregnancy. Then comes the bonding between parent and child; attachment, dependability of the adults in a child’s life, family dynamics, nurturance, protection, guidance, encouragement, etc. The author could not have weaved a better story with this multitude of factors, so true to the nature of life’s unexpected and often unpleasant changes. E. Graziani’s charming storytelling cleverly draws on the extensive research behind her book through a rich dialogue of wit, sarcasm, and eloquence, all, while evoking feelings of sadness and empathy for Faith.
As a psychiatrist who sees a lot of “Faiths” and their families, I was impressed at how the author was able to bring the clinical elements of the story together so seamlessly with the narrative. The successive unfortunate turns cumulate into crisis when Faith meets the dangers of street life, which are then juxtaposed with the warmth and kindness shown by Mrs. Lieberman. Stress and trauma are inevitable in life. While the natural outcome to trauma is not disorder but recovery and resilience, post-traumatic stress disorders are the result of the interplay between genetic vulnerability and social factors, manifesting in symptoms. This risk is increased if after the traumatic events, essential treatment and services are not administered. Trauma can uncover inherent vulnerabilities. Alcohol and other street drugs have always occupied the age-old self-medication method of dealing with trauma. The harmful dysfunction of addiction hinders a person and their loved ones from living their lives.
The prevalence of these issues is on the rise, and the author’s wish to increase awareness will certainly succeed. I am excited about the mental health educational value of this book, especially for the at-risk population. Stories that are relatable and enjoyable convey the message effectively. Faith’s insecurity about fitting into her peer group, along with her defensive indifference and anger, her longing to be loved by her mother, and her need to be validated by her older sister, can easily apply to many of us. Graziani’s Breaking Faith, tells a captivating story that will not only educate readers about the personal tribulations of mental health, but will also warm the hearts of all those who follow Faith on her journey.
Dr. Vimala Chinnasamy MBBS, FRCP(c)
Assistant Professor, Faculty of Health Sciences
Department of Psychiatry and Behavioural Neurosciences
St. Joseph’s Healthcare, Hamilton, ON, Canada
Acknowledgments
In tackling a book of this nature, I could never rely solely on my imagination or experiences to make it believable. I wish to thank and acknowledge experts and others in the know who facilitated and supported my research.
Thank you to City of Toronto Hostel Services and Children’s Mental Health Ontario for their assistance.
Thank you to Katina Tzitzi, RN, and Lisa Woodrow-Steduto, BSW, for their willingness to share their expertise. I’m incredibly fortunate to have such supportive, caring and honest friends to whom I can run for opinions on my writing projects.
A big thank you to Dr. Vimala Chinnasamy MBBS, FRCP(c), for her guidance and contribution to this novel. Her caring attitude and thoughtful recommendations were instrumental in my being able to present Breaking Faith to my publisher with confidence in knowing that it is as authentic and accurate as possible.
Thank you to Kathryn Cole, my managing editor, for championing this novel (and for editing and reediting) and to my editor Kelly Jones for her careful eye to detail and subtle, yet vital suggestions. I hope we made Breaking Faith, the best it can be.
I could not have written this book without my past experiences as an educator. I love Faith—she deserves better, but often doesn’t get a fair chance to show the world her potential. I love her often contradictory qualities, her loyalty, her cynicism, her rebelliousness and her ability to respond to kindness with kindness, though we wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t.
About the Author
E. Graziani is a teacher/librarian, author, and speaker. She is the author of War in My Town—one of the Canadian Children’s Book Centre’s Best Books for Kids and Teens and finalist in the Hamilton Arts Council Literary Awards for Best Non-Fiction—as well as the ‘Alice’ young adult novel series, Alice of the Rocks and Alice–Angel of Time, and a novella Jess Under Pressure (Morning Rain Publishing). E. Graziani regularly speaks to young people about her books and the publishing process. She resides in Ontario, Canada with her husband and four daughters.
Visit her website: www.egraziani1.wix.com/egrazianiauthor
Copyright
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Graziani, E., 1961-, author
Breaking Faith / by E. Graziani.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-77260-024-7 (paperback).
—ISBN 978-1-77260-025-4 (epub)
I. Title.
PS8613.R395B74 2017 jC813'.6 C2016-906979-6
C2016-906980-X
Copyright © 2017 by E. Graziani
Edited by Kelly Jones and Kathryn Cole
Design by Melissa Kaita
Cover photo © iStockphoto
Printed and bound in Canada
Second Story Press gratefully acknowledges the support of the
Ontario Arts Council and the Canada Council for the Arts for our
publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the
Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.
Published by
Second Story Press
20 Maud Street, Suite 401
Toronto, ON M5V 2M5
www.secondstorypress.ca