by Freya Barker
Grinning, I give her a quick kiss on her forehead before steering the car back into traffic.
“Tissues in the glovebox, girl. Wipe those tears and let’s go knock ‘em dead.” When I throw her a wink, I’m happy to see the upward tilt to her lips remains as she furiously wipes at her cheeks.
The smile on my girl’s face when she bows in front of a loud and appreciative audience later that night is tucked away with the other bright moments I will treasure always, unlike the dark space I reserve for my ex and her destructive nature. That space is overflowing and I know I have to take some action soon or she will suck all the happy out of my kids, like she’s done with me already, years ago. I’ll kill her before I let her kill the light in my kids.
CHAPTER SIX
Syd
“So what other homework do you have?”
I look at Dexter, who is squirming a little in his seat. I can see Dino smile from the corner of my eye as he is prepping the next order, but don’t allow my eyes to wander.
“Come on ... I can tell there is something else,” I nudge Dex, who rolls his eyes before responding.
“Fine. Math, but I hate it and I don’t understand anything my teacher told us today.” The firm set of his chin reminds me of his father and that makes me chuckle. Dex is so innocent in comparison with that man. For one thing, Dex doesn’t make my stomach churn like his dad does every time he comes within talking distance of me. Also, Dex is kinda cute when he does that stubborn thing, where Gunnar only looks more intimidating.
“You do know that Batman is really good with numbers, right?” I try, earning a weak and tentative smile.
“I bet he never had to do math homework though.” The little smartass makes me chuckle. I should’ve known he’d be too old for games like that.
“The only way to get smart though.” I lift one eyebrow in a silent challenge and with slow, deliberate movements, never losing eye contact with me, he pulls his math book from his backpack.
I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the way he gives in under silent protest.
He’s been working on his homework now for about an hour while I help Dino with cooking and plating. I’m surprised they give little kids so much work to take home. My initial shock at seeing Dexter in the doorway has long since gone, and I find myself enjoying the boy’s company and occasional questions.
I hate to admit it, but that half hour Gunnar forced me to take did me a world of good. The cut on my leg pulls a little, but other than that, it doesn’t hurt too bad at all. The first few minutes on the couch upstairs, I was afraid he’d follow me upstairs, but exhaustion and shock finally pulled me into a dreamless sleep. When Viv came to check on me, I was already up, my body well accustomed to self-regulation. I really don’t need an alarm. Ever since ... well, since the last time I overslept, I’ve been able to wake myself up on cue. It’s been five years now; five years of learning to just close my eyes and let go.
With a shake of my head, I turn back to Dex, only to find him staring at me.
“What?” I ask him.
“Dino asked if you were okay helping me with math. If not, he will after he’s done.”
A quick glance at Dino shows him with one eyebrow raised in question. Shit. I must’ve really wandered off for a minute there.
“I’m good with math. In fact, math was my favorite subject all through school.” I stop myself from exposing too much, finding myself way to comfortable here in the kitchen. “Show me what you’ve got.”
For the next half hour, I’m able to show him the basic workings of decimals and fractions. He’s actually smiling when he finally closes his book. “You’re really smart. Where did you learn all that,” he wants to know.
“In school. Just like you, I had a hard time understanding math at first, but then I changed schools and got this great teacher who really helped me understand. I’ve loved math and numbers ever since.” I tell him, a little uneasy with the close scrutiny he’s subjecting me to, but encouraging him to do well outweighs my concern for the second set of ears in the room.
“So how come you work here and not at a bank, or some other place where you can use numbers? You’re really good at it.”
A heavy, almost painful pressure sits on my chest. I did once, but I’m not going to give him that answer. It’s one I’m not ready to explore myself. “I may just do that at some point.” I know full well I’m avoiding the actual question. “But I really enjoy working here too,” I cautiously add.
The next thing I know, Dexter jumps up from the table and makes for the door. “Dad! You’re back!” He launches himself at his father, who looks at me with intense eyes. Crap. How much has he heard?
“We’re back, kid. And your sister was out of this world she was so good!” Emmy stands beside her dad, beaming from ear to ear at the compliment and I can’t help but smile.
“Awesome, ” Dino rumbles from behind me.
“That’s great, Emmy,” I add softly, and I’m rewarded with the same bright smile. It hits me right in the chest as well, but runs through me like a soft breeze, blowing the dust that has settled on my heart.
“Ice cream to celebrate?” Dino suggests, which is met with an enthusiastic “Yesss” and a fist pump from Dexter and a “Yay!” from Emmy who plops herself down at the table beside me. Gunnar stays in the doorway.
“You guys gonna be okay here while I check out the pub?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Fine, Daddy.”
With one last look in my direction, he turns down the hall, lifting the tension from my shoulders immediately.
It’s almost ten when Viv pushes me to the door. “Go. You’ve been here for twelve hours already. Go get some rest.”
Reluctantly, I leave the warm and safe haven of the kitchen for my cold blankets on the floor of the shed. Funny how quickly you get used to the comforts of life again. The freezing air outside hits me in the face and I can’t stop a full-body shiver running through me. It’s a cold night, but it’s clear, showing the bright stars against the night sky. Tempted by the view, I turn left toward the water instead of heading straight for my shed.
I sit on the side of the dock, my feet dangling over the water below and try to focus on the view alone. It was something I’d always been good at; compartmentalizing. Focus on one thing and have everything else disappear, but my mind keeps returning to the day behind me. I feel exposed. My emotions seem to be coming alive under the influence of good people and warm food. My heart is defrosting and it hurts like my fingers do when warming up after being outside too long in the cold. The dull ache in my chest is getting sharper by the day and the children’s appearance today only made that worse. Or is it better? I don’t know. I don’t know what'll happen when I can no longer stave off the memories and it all comes flooding back. I’m scared, but not scared enough to turn my back on The Skipper. It represents something I’ve gone without for a long time: Hope. I’m drawn to it like a moth to the flames, but even the with the knowledge I’ll get myself burned isn’t enough to keep me away. I’d grown so used to waking up disappointed I was still alive, I didn’t think the day would ever come again where the morning would arrive and I’d be relieved to still be there. Hope brings with it the possibility of loss. I’ve experienced loss, and I don’t think I’ll survive it again.
I’ll just take things a day at a time—a moment at a time. It’s something I’ve become very adept at—living in the moment.
A sound behind me startles me out of my thoughts and I turn around, but can’t see anything. Probably just an animal going through the garbage, I tell myself. God knows I’ve encountered plenty of them roaming the docks under the shelter of night. With the cold already settling into my bones, I get up to head to my warm blankets. Once inside my shed, I roll myself in my bedding and drift off to sleep with the knowledge there’ll be a warm shower and a meal waiting for me tomorrow.
Gunnar
Been a long fucking day. The kids are safely upstairs asle
ep and I’m seriously considering spending the night here instead of hauling them out of bed and home. Cindy left a bag of clothes for them when she dropped them off this afternoon so they’ll have something clean to wear to school tomorrow. I sent Viv home earlier, who was dead on her feet, and Denise and Matt left not long thereafter. I’ve been wrestling with numbers the past hour, trying to find a way I can afford to hire on a full-time bartender to ease the load on us. With the kids’ mother so increasingly unpredictable, especially after hearing the mindfuck she put over on Emmy, I’m seriously considering applying for full custody. However, if I want to do that, I’ll have to find a way to be available to them without it having an impact on the pub. I know any judge will look at my lifestyle and find working night shifts in a drinking establishment while my kids are either looked after by a babysitter or here with me, is not conducive to a healthy, nurturing environment.
When the numbers start to blur in front of my eyes, I decide to take out the trash and head upstairs. Fuck going home tonight; I’ll just crash on the couch.
With a box of kitchen garbage and a black trash bag in hand, I push open the back door. The blast of cold air gives me a full body shiver. In the few steps it takes me to reach the dumpster, the distinct smell of smoke hits my nostrils and looking around for the cause, I see an orange glow down the alley. I quickly dump the trash, pull my phone out and dial 9-1-1 while walking toward the flicker of flames.
“Fire on Holyoke Wharf,” I tell the operator, “the alley behind The Skipper. Looks like one of the old storage sheds.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I remember Viv saying Syd lives in a shed and I take off running, tucking the phone back in my pocket. The small building is engulfed on the backside with flames licking over the flat roof to the front, “SYD!”
With smoke getting thick around me, I rip off my flannel shirt and tie it around my face. The heat is intense this close. I don’t get any response so I call out again, hoping this is not where she beds down at night. Fuck! What was I thinking, sending that frail woman back out here.
“Syd! You in there?”
“Please...” I hear from the other side of the door.
I try to open it, but there’s something wedged against the door on the inside. I have to wipe burning embers out of my hair, as the wind blows the flames in all directions.
“Step back! I’m coming in!”
Taking a step back, I haul out with my leg and manage to kick the door open to where I can now get in through a decent opening. Once inside, I’m almost overcome by the thick black smoke, but when I reach out with my hand, I manage to grab onto what feels like an arm and I pull it toward me. Wrestling myself back through the narrow opening, I pull Syd out with me. The fire is now coming around the sides, and we need to get the hell away, so without stopping to check her over, I swing the tiny woman in my arms and run to the back door of the pub. I have to get my kids to safety in case the fire starts moving this way. Once inside, Syd starts coughing and struggling in my arms. “Hold still, woman. I’ll put you down in the kitchen.”
No sooner have I set her down on the kitchen table, Emmy comes running in. “Daddy, fire!” She stops dead in her tracks when she spots us and I see the fear in her face.
“It’s okay, honey, it’s not here,” I cough out. “Firetrucks are on their way.” And just then, I hear the sirens. “Go back upstairs with your brother for now. Make sure he stays where he is, okay?” With a frightened nod, she runs back up the stairs.
Still holding onto her shoulders, I start looking over Syd for injuries while she continues coughing up smoke. It’s hard to see anything with the thick layer of soot covering the both of us. “Gotta get you to the ambulance out there.”
Immediately, she begins struggling to get out of my hold. “No h...hospital,” she manages.
“You’ve probably suffered smoke inhalation. You’ve gotta get checked out.”
But Syd shakes her head furiously. “No. Please...” God dammit. I don’t know what it is about this woman and I’m sure this’ll come back to bite me in the ass, but I can’t ignore her terrified plea.
I pick her up again and take her upstairs where I leave her in the bathroom with a pile of towels and a frightened Emmy with instructions to stay put while I talk to rescue services outside. A quick check on Dex finds him still sleeping soundly, despite all the activity outside the window.
Outside, I track down the first rescue person I see and explain that I was in the shed checking to see if anyone was in there, but found it empty. When the firefighter tells me to stay put and wait for the police, I explain I have to get back to my kids, but to send whomever over to The Skipper. I’ll leave the back door open.
I make my way back upstairs to find Syd with her arms around a crying Emmy and I move in to take my daughter from her arms.
“We’re fine, honey. Just dirty from the smoke, that’s all. The firetrucks are here and already putting out the flames, I promise.” I meet Syd’s eyes over my girl’s head and I see defeat in them. Not pain, not fear, but defeat. That is almost worse than dealing with my daughter’s tears. What happened to this woman?
When the crying slows down to some snuffles, I urge Emmy back in bed with her brother and walk toward the bathroom to get cleaned up, but a knock from downstairs stops me. Syd’s panicked face pokes out of the bathroom. “Go on, get cleaned up. I’ll take care of this.”
With a nod, she disappears back into the bathroom. I’m glad her coughing seems to have stopped or it would be hard to hide her from the police officer standing at my back door, looking for answers.
I explain about taking out the garbage and noticing the fire down the alley. I also tell him I kicked the door down, staying as close to the truth as I can, but he still regards me suspiciously. “Are you saying you barged into a burning building just to ‘check’ if anyone might be inside? That doesn’t seem risky to you?”
“Come on ... you must know that vagrants crash there from time to time? I just reacted, not thinking much at all. When I realized it was empty, I came back here to check on my children right away. Look, can I get cleaned up? I’ll be happy to go over it some more tomorrow, but my kids are scared upstairs and I could do with a shower,” I point out. With a reluctant nod and a last suspicious glance my way, I show the officer the door and promise to stay available for further questions.
By the time I walk into the apartment, I find Syd wrapped in a throw blanket, curled up and fast asleep in the chair. Figuring I’d only wake her up if I moved her to the couch, I leave her where she is. A quick shower and a last check on the kids later, I flop down on the couch, close my eyes and drift off.
“Dad ... wake up.”
I squint my eyes against the morning light streaming in through the windows and it takes me a minute to figure out where I am. Dexter is leaning over me with his hair neatly combed, and his breath smelling faintly of toothpaste.
“Hey, buddy,” I struggle to sit up and look around the apartment, finding it empty. “Where’s your sister?”
“Downstairs in the kitchen with Syd.” Fuck. Right, the fire.
“Syd told me to come wake you up. I’m gonna go back to eat my breakfast.”
My boy takes off running and is almost at the door when the information registers. “Breakfast?” I call after him.
“Yup! Pancakes. Gotta go!”
Less than two minutes later, I walk into the kitchen, dressed in some old track pants and a T-shirt I found in my old dresser upstairs. My kids are at the table chowing down on what looks to be a substantial pile of pancakes and are laughing at something Syd says. She stands with her back leaning against the stove, smiling at them. That smile. Fuck me.
She must’ve heard something because her eyes lock on mine and before I can say anything, she comes walking straight towards me, nudging me back into the hallway. What the hell?
“Don’t say anything about last night to Dex. Emmy tells me he already has bad nightmares sometimes.”
I’m stu
nned. She’s never looked me in the eye for longer than a minute and she sure as hell has never spoke in full sentences that I know of. Part of me wants to be offended that she tells me how to handle my kids, but I can’t argue her reasoning, or her apparent genuine concern. I guess she takes my silence the wrong way because her gaze turns to the ground and she starts fidgeting with the edge of the men’s flannel she is wearing. “I’m sorry. They woke me up this morning and you were still sleeping. I thought I could get them ready for school, but then I realized you’d need to drive them.” She peeks up through her eyelashes and continues, “They’ve got clean clothes on and brushed their teeth already... shit ... I guess I should’ve told them to do it after breakfast, right? I forgot. I’m sor—“
I put my hands on her bony shoulders and dip down to look her in the eye. “You tell me ’sorry’ one more time and you’re fired.” At that, her eyes shoot up with a spark of fire coming from them. “Whoa, just kidding, Syd. Let me say thank you, okay? Getting them ready, making them pancakes for breakfast? That’s more than they ever get at their mom’s, so thank you for that. And for letting me sleep a little longer.”
She shrugs her shoulders under my hands, making me aware I’m still holding onto her and I pull my hands back. That felt too nice. “Gonna run them to school real quick and pick up some clean clothes at home. You need anything?” I see something flick over her face before she shuts it down and shakes her head no. Like hell. “Gonna be out anyway, so tell me what you need.” I insist.
“I don’t have a toothbrush. It burned in the fire.” She whispers, suddenly shy again.
“I’ll pick you up a toothbrush and I’ll give Viv a call to see about getting you some clothes. But when I get back, we’re gonna talk—you and I.”
A quick nod and she turns back into the kitchen, chatting with the kids like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Running my hand through my hair, I wonder how it is that yesterday I was ready to kick her out on her ass, not sure if she was trustworthy, and today I let her cater to my kids and offer to pick her up a goddamn toothbrush. Confusing as hell.