Dream Smashers

by Angela Carlie

  “There’s something I need to tell you before you meet my parents,” Evan says.

  Autumn sits up. “What is it?”

  “Well, not both my parents, just my mom. She…” He pauses to regain some of the nerves that must have just run away without warning him. “She thinks I’m too young to have a girlfriend and might not be the nicest person in the world toward you.” There he said it, really fast, but it’s out in the open and now he can hold his breath again.

  Autumn laughs and then bites her lip, seeming uneasy. “How rude is that?” She picks up a bark chip and traces the designs punched into the metal she sits on. “So, like, how mean will she be to your, uh, girlfriend?”

  Evan stuffs his hands into his jeans. Now he’s in the hot seat. He called her his girlfriend, but he probably shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. The merry-go-round squeaks to a stop. There’s nothing he can do now, it’s out in the open. Just have to go with it. “She’s not going to hurt you or anything, just maybe ignore you and pretend you’re not there.” He jumps off and gives the twirling beast another spin.

  “That’s it?” She tosses the bark. “As long as she doesn’t yell at me or spit at me or shoot me, I think I can handle her ignoring me.”

  Evan breathes. Maybe she doesn’t mind him calling her his girlfriend. “Don’t take it personally. The more she ignores you, the more she thinks I like you.” Whew. That wasn’t so bad. He sits cross-legged in front of Autumn. His knees leave a half-inch of air in front of hers.

  She blushes and looks away, smiling. Then, her smile vanishes. “How are you always so free?”

  Evan shrugs. “What do you mean?”

  She scoots another half an inch back. “You always seem so happy and without worry. Like, like you have no cares in the world to weigh you down. I’m not sure exactly how to explain it, but every time I see you, you just seem so—so, carefree.”

  Evan takes a moment before answering this one. He searches for a simple answer to her complicated question. It needs to sound easy—well, it is easy. “I have faith. That’s the reason I seem carefree. But, don’t get me wrong, because I do care. I care a lot.”

  She’s quiet.

  He stands and gives another spin. This time he sits on the handle bars.

  She says, “Faith? You mean your religion?”

  “I mean I have faith in God, in Jesus. I have given my worries and burdens over to Jesus. He takes them from me and deep down I know everything will be okay—”

  “What? You give your worries to Jesus? That totally doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why not?”

  “How can you possibly just give your worries away? If I worry about someone, like Grams or Rainy or even Jacinda, it’s because I care for them. I care what might happen to them—”

  “Yes, of course you do. I understand. What good has worry ever gotten, though? Has it helped your Grams any? Has worrying about your mom made her life any easier—or yours?”

  The fog thins enough to see her face. Her eyebrows furrow, like she’s thinking.

  “Well, no. I guess worrying hasn’t helped. But, how do you stop worrying?”

  “You know the story about Jesus, right?”

  “Yeah, I think so. He died for our sins and stuff.”

  “That’s exactly right. Jesus died for us. He wiped our slate clean of all sin, but only if we accept him into our lives and hearts. Once you do this, surrender yourself to him, you are saved.”

  Autumn’s face puckers. She must be thinking again. Evan jumps off the merry-go-round and gives it another whirl, hoping he didn’t just kill all chances with her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Uncomfortable. But interesting. I still don’t get it though, not one bit. This can’t be right. It sounds too simple.

  “Actually, I’m getting a bit dizzy,” I say. Girlfriend, evil mom, burdens, Jesus. All this thinking along with the whirling is giving me a headache. “Do you mind if we go home now? I’m tired.”

  “Oh, of course.” He holds onto a handle to stop the merry-go-round. “I hope I didn’t scare you or anything. It’s just that I get excited when talking about our savior.”

  Savior. Now my head definitely hurts. “No. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day and a lot has happened.”

  He holds his hand out to help me off the ride. The strange fog has disappeared, exposing the sky above. Clouds glide across the canvass revealing the stars and then covering them again.

  The drive home almost puts me to sleep. The purr of the engine calms. We pull up to my house. Evan jumps out to open my door, but I’m faster.

  “So, did tonight scare you off? I mean, do you want to help again on Wednesday?” He wrings his hands together.

  “Sure, I’ll help out. It wasn’t that bad until Jacinda showed up. She won’t show up again this week, will she?” Not that it matters. I don’t care about her anyway. Her stupid episode is totally ancient history—sorta.

  “I don’t think that I’ve seen her there before. So, you’re probably right.” He steps forward and gives me a hug. Warm, caring, making me want to hold on to him for years. He steps back too soon, his face a little pink. No kiss. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

  “Me too. Sorry about what happened and all.”

  “There’s no reason for you to be sorry.” He smiles. “Well, I’ll swing by on Wednesday around three then?”

  “Sounds great.” I can’t believe he didn’t kiss me. Maybe he doesn’t see me as a girlfriend after all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tuesday, October 6th

  Jacinda sits up. The bed squeaks. It’s fuckin’ cold, dark, and the rain pounds something fierce on whatever hella roof is above her head.

  Black, not even a glimmer of light to let her know where she’s crashed. She flops back down and wraps the scratchy blanket even tighter around her body. Her stomach’s on a fuckin’ roller coaster of its own. She’s had worse. She can take it. Bring it. She can take whatever shit life throws at her.

  The faint smell of bleach in the air burns Jacinda’s damn nostrils. There’s only one place that reeks of bleach—well, two, but there ain’t no way she’d be at rehab on her own. Unless…nah, this ain’t rehab. There’d be screaming and shit or something, and bars on a window. Maybe there is. She can’t see.

  She must be at the Share Home. Last time she slept there was about a month ago. It smelled clean like this. When the sun comes up she’ll get a shower and some good grub. They always got good food at the Share Home.

  She doesn’t know what the fuck happened last night or even how she got here. A big guy. Yeah. Fuckin’ fine big guy. Wonder if he’s single. He dropped her on the bed and told her to sleep it off, or some shit like that.

  Something happened before that though. Autumn. Her eyes, so sad. Her face—Oh God. That little brat. Still, maybe Ma’s right. Maybe she doesn’t deserve the shit she’s been dealt. Then again, it’s not like she’s living on the street.

  The gentle ride turns shaky and Jacinda’s stomach spasms. Up and out. She manages to lean over the bed so not to soil it, and soaks the floor instead. It splatters. Must be a concrete floor. Good for them. Smart people at the Share Home.

  She sits up. The blackness spins, round and round and round. She’s gotta get outta here. Slipping through puke, she feels her way to a wall and then to a door. Quietly, she opens it, letting in a flood of light that blinds her. The stench of bacon turns her stomach further and a few steps later she’s out the front door and in the fuckin’ rain.

  The cold air feels good; the rain cleanses. She kinks her head back, face up to the sky. Cold turns into freezing but she don’t fuckin’ care. She’s nobody. Nothing to nobody no more. Pops is gone, stupid Pastor Bob’s gone, well, he was only around to fuck so he was always gone or maybe never here at all. Ma’s never gonna love her no more. Not after all the shit she put her through. And the little brat, well, she never loved Jacinda in the first place.

  Through the rain, a stream rushes t
oward the gutters on the streets and Jacinda walks. Head down, nowhere to go, no responsibilities to live for. She ain’t worth the mud she’s treadin’ through. Her heart hurts.

  She shouldn’t even bother with it no more. There ain’t no reason for it. She missed the day that God passed out destinies to everyone else on the face of the world, because she ain’t got one and it hurts. With no purpose, no reason to go on, it feels like swallowing a razor blade. It cuts a giant gash down the center of her guts.

  But she’s too chicken shit to end it all. Tried that before, didn’t work.

  She dunno if she could ever go clean. Maybe.

  The Cleansing Room sits down the road. She could walk there if she wanted. She don’t fuckin’ know if she wants to though. She stumbles down Columbia Street toward rehab, The Cleansing Room—stupid name. Just a couple blocks away.

  Pressure builds deep in her chest, pressing on all the walls. Something she ain’t felt in years. It feels a little like hope, whatever the fuck that is, or excitement for what the future could hold. So many questions lay heavy in her head. What if she does get clean, then what? Will the brat like her? Will it be too late? Maybe Autumn will be dead before she’s done with rehab. Maybe. But then Jacinda can take care of Ma. She’ll need someone to care for her ‘cause she’s gettin old and shit. Yeah, yeah, that’s something she can do.

  Maybe she can go to nursing school or some shit like that, and learn to take care of old folks. Or get a job in an office.

  Jacinda ain’t never been clean before. She’s been numb for so long. It’s scary to think of life with pain. Whenever she’s able to feel, like now, she just takes another hit or gets drunk or snorts something, anything to take away the pain. The burning inside, deep down, into the pit of Jacinda, where the devil himself dwells. She’s always been pretty sure that he lives inside her. That’s why it hurts so bad when she’s sober. He’s in her, burning holes through her tissues and guts and shit—through her soul.

  Stupid devil. Damn stupid pain.

  Stairs, hundreds of stairs before her, leading up to The Cleansing Room. Jacinda stands at the base, gazing up to the cement building. Daggers of water spear her eyes. She closes them.

  Just go up. Take a step and go up the fucking stairs. Come on Jacinda, you can take a fucking step.

  No she can’t, her legs won’t move. Her body trembles.

  She’s been here before, a time ago, but then she didn’t want to be here. It wasn’t her choice, and they couldn’t force her to stay, so she left. Hope didn’t live in her heart then, only the pain, and so she left. They asked her questions. Questions she couldn’t answer, so she left. The beds made her back hurt, the food tasted like wood, everyone stared at her—judging her with their snotty-looks, the air smelled of cleaners and burned her nostrils, the night-sweats chilled her to the bone, and so she left.

  She can’t possibly endure this fuckin’ hell hole again even if it means that she would get better.

  “Hey JC. Wucha doin here?” A man’s voice startles her. She jerks her head around. Ace sits in his hot rod, his window rolled down. She didn’t even hear him pull up, but his engine revs loud now.

  “Oh, Ace. Just the man I need to see.” Thank God. “You know what I need, don’t ya?”

  “Come with me babe. You know I’ll take care of ya.”

  Yes, I know you will. Take me the fuck to where oblivion shines.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I sit at the table, waiting. Not knowing the truth kills me, but having the conversation I’m about to have may be totally worse. I’ve been thinking all night how to approach her. Grams doesn’t like talking about the past. In fact, she hates it. She once said, “The past wants to rest, so let it. You keep stirring things up from the past, you’ll likely find out things you wish you hadn’t.” Whatever that means.

  “What’s all this?” Grams walks into the kitchen and points to the breakfast on the table that I slaved to whip up: eggs, toast, hash browns and coffee.

  “It’s for you. Can we have breakfast here today?”

  She frowns, puts a hand on her hip and scrunches her brows. “You know the gals are waiting. Why didn’t you warn me?”

  “Can’t you call down to Matt’s and tell them you’ll be late then? I just want to ask you some things.”

  “What things?” She picks the phone receiver up off the wall—a green rotary relic. The past is off limits for discussion but she sure likes to hang on to all her ancient possessions. “Matt? Linda. You go on and tell the girls I’m running late.” She pauses. “No, no need to cook my usual. Autumn’s done made me a surprise breakfast…uh huh…well, okay then. Buh bye.”

  A plate full of breakfast foods and a cup of hot coffee wait for Grams on the table. “This must be serious.” She sits down in front of the food, pushes it away, and pulls out her cigarettes, lights one up then slurps the coffee. “Okay, I think I’m ready now. I suppose this is going to give me a headache?”

  Well it’s not going to make her laugh. Or maybe it will. “Tell me about my dad.”

  “Oh Autumn, what do you want to know ‘bout him for? He may as well be dead for all I care. Who knows? Maybe he is.” She shrugs and takes another drink of her coffee.

  “Yadda, yadda, yadda. You’ve told me he’s a creep. You’ve told me he’s a no good nobody that left mom knocked up. But you haven’t told me who he is.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Why does anybody want to know anything?” I roll my eyes. “What’s the big deal? So, I want to know who made me. I’m not on a mission to go find him out or anything. I just want to know.”

  “You want to know so bad? Fine. His name is Bob. He was married and had an affair with your then teenage mother. Promises were made and he broke them and split town.”

  “What did he do for a living?”

  “Why in the world does that matter?” Grams snuffs her cigarette out in the ashtray and pulls the breakfast plate in front of her, taking a bite of eggs. “These are cold.”

  If she ate them instead of smoking, they wouldn’t be. “I just want to know. No big reason.”

  She puts the fork down and looks at me. “He was a pastor at my church. There. You happy now?”

  “Really? My dad’s a pastor?”

  “Was a pastor. He could be anything now. It was the scandal of the church when the members found out about you.” She gulps her coffee. “No one believed it until he up and left town. Of course everyone blamed your mother.”

  “What? Why would they blame her? She was a teenager.” The thought of anyone blaming Jacinda for something a creepy religious dude did totally pisses me off. No one has the right to blame her for anything except for me. I’m the only one allowed to be angry. Stupid old church goers, what the hell do they know anyway? “It wasn’t her fault.”

  Grams gives me a stern look. “Not entirely, but she knew he was married. No, she shouldn’t have taken all the blame and he was a spineless coward to have run away. Your mom knew the consequences of her actions. I warned her. He wasn’t the first married man she had been with.”

  My jaw drops open. “Oh my God!”

  “You watch your mouth.”

  Oops. “Sorry. But, what do you mean? Was she a slut?”

  Grams points her finger at me. “I mean it missy. You’re not too old for a bar of soap to wash that filth out of that mouth, you know.” She lights another cigarette. “No she wasn’t, ah…” She waves her hand in the air. “What you just said, she wasn’t that. She liked older men I guess.”

  Gross.

  “Are we done here? I’d like to get down to Matt’s.”

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

  ***

  Angel walks across the courtyard to meet me. The autumn sun glimmers through her long copper hair and the breeze blows it all supermodel like. Her pale-skin knees are sandwiched between brown leather boots and an orange billowing skirt. She turns to smile and wave at the popular jock, Justin Daniels,
and other boys gawking at her.

  “Are you ready?” she says with a breathless voice, like she just jogged across the courtyard instead of walked.

  I give her a look of disinterest to let her know that I’m not in awe over her, even though I am. “Yep. What do you want to do today? Do you need to change out of those clothes?”

  “Why? Will we be wallowing in the dirt?” She gives me the once-over. My torn jeans and dirt covered Doc Martins don’t seem to impress her. I totally ditched my rules today and didn’t dress the part of carefree girl. The rules seem too much of an effort to follow.

  “That all depends on how well you wrestle,” I say.

  She stares at me with vacant green eyes.

  “I’m kidding!” Rainy would have laughed.

  “Oh.” She half laughs and shakes her head. “I actually thought you were serious. We can go to my place for a bit if you want.”

  “Sure.” I shrug.

  We crunch through the leaves on the sidewalk. The silence between my new friend and I becomes muffled by our steps, children playing on the playgrounds, cars zipping by on the street, and a bald eagle soaring above us, screeching at its new found prey—a smaller bird flapping its little wings turbo-fast.

  It must be me. I’m the uptight one, the one who has trouble making new friends and never know what to talk about. Our silence feels like sludging through quicksand. Only Angel isn’t sinking like I am. She floats above the sandpit in light air, giddy and free.

  I miss Rainy. I don’t have to pretend with her. Sure, she’s mean and moody, but I’ve always felt comfortable with Rainy, even when she doesn’t listen to me or when she conveniently forgets to tell me about a date.

  Angel glances at me. “You ever been to Scour?”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Oh, man. You’d love it. It’s crazy cool.” She slows her pace. “It’s an underage club that’s usually open on the weekends. You want to go sometime?”