From Dust

by Freya Barker

  I usually check every Friday, but missed last week because of a doctor’s visit with Dex. Just a regular check-up to monitor his asthma and get a new prescription for his inhaler, something the doc assures me he will probably grow out of. Anyway, in the hustle of getting him from school to the doc’s office, and back to school with his brand new ‘puffer’, I’d run out of time to check the stockroom before getting next week’s order in.

  This morning’s count shows I’m short two bottles of scotch and three of vodka. Now it happens we miss marking up one occasionally when it’s busy, but five bottles in a week, or maybe two, is a lot.

  When Viv still hasn’t shown after five minutes, I get up to find her, register in hand.

  “There you are. Did you hear me calling?” I walk into the kitchen to find her working on prep at the counter, her back to me and her head bobbing. “Yo, Viv!” I yell when she still doesn’t acknowledge me, making her jump. She swings around, grabbing her chest with one hand while pulling the earbuds from her ears with the other. Loud music seeps into the kitchen ... Queen, if I’m not mistaken.

  “Jesus! You scared me,” she huffs.

  “Well no shit, woman. Not surprised with that shit turned up so high. I’m surprised you can still hear anything at all.” I gesture to the iPhone sticking out of her pocket.

  “Queen is not shit,” she argues, “it’s only the best rock music of all time.”

  Can’t argue that, so I barge right in. “We’ve got a problem. Count’s off on the bottles. Can you have a look and see if anything tweaks?”

  She turns off the music on her phone, walks over and grabs the book from my hand. Leafing through, she mumbles to herself. “This doesn’t make sense. I checked the empties last week against the book and they matched up. Let me go count them now.”

  I’ve poured myself a coffee by the time she’s back with an incredulous look on her face. “Okay, this is just weird. There are five more empties than have been signed out.”

  “Let me guess,” I offer. “Two scotch and three vodka? We’ve got a problem here, Viv. Not many people working here, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure this shit out.”

  “Everybody knows the system though. If they wanted to take a bottle, wouldn’t they have marked it?” she asks, worry reflected in her eyes.

  “They could’ve, although it’d likely have thrown up a red flag if we saw one person sign off on a lot more than usual. I mean, that’s the reason we’ve got this system, right? To have some accountability?” I drop my head in my hands and scratch my scalp. My thoughts are going in a direction that doesn’t sit well with me and when I look up at Viv, I can tell she knows what I’m thinking.

  “Don’t,” she pleads.

  “You know it and I know it, Viv. Fuck. I don’t wanna think it, but we have to consider all possibilities. How did those empties stay here, but the bottles weren’t signed out? Only one person isn’t familiar with the register and we know dick-all about her background.”

  Viv just shakes her head, worrying her nails with her teeth until she blurts out, “Not buying it, Gunnar. I don’t care what happened before she came here, but that girl had a hard time accepting any help to begin with. Sure doesn’t make sense she would suddenly start stealing.”

  Relief at her words relaxes my shoulders, which have been tight from the moment Syd’s name popped in my head. Still, it brings home how little I know about her. Not even a full name and I have her looking after my kids? I get she’s not ready to talk about the shit that was her life, but eventually she’ll have to open up ... right? I mean, it’s not like she’s fucking Cher, who manages to go through life with one name only. Regardless, I don’t think Syd’s responsible. It never felt right, but Viv confirming it makes me more convinced. “Okay, Syd’s out. How then? One of the suppliers? Did we get shortchanged on our order somehow?” I’m genuinely puzzled.

  “Let’s keep an eye out. Check the stock daily for a while and no more leaving the door unlocked. The others will have to come see one of us for the keys.”

  Her suggestion is sound. Still, I hate that it’s necessary. I get up, plant a kiss on Viv’s head, and go lock the stockroom door.

  Being a Friday, the lunch crowd is a decent size. Everybody’s busy so I jump behind the bar and let Denise help on the tables.

  “Draft Bud, an orange juice, and a dry white, big guy.” Denise leans on the bar, propping her chest on the edge. Big Guy? She’s verged on being inappropriate with me all afternoon and it was irritating to start with, but now she’s really pushing it.

  “Gunnar’s the name. I’ll answer to Boss, but you’re pushing it now, Denise. Knock it off ‘cause I’m not interested. Never was, and it’s not likely to happen now.” I know I can be a dick, but shit. How often do you need to hear ‘no’ before you get it? I don’t slow down filling the order, but don’t miss the sharp intake of breath and the angry pinch to her face.

  “Mind grabbing me a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the back?”

  With a loud smack, she drops her tray on the bar before turning on her heels. Matt walks up, his eyebrows raised as he watches her disappear into the back.

  “The hell is up with her? Caught her earlier giving Syd a hard time. Something about the glasses not being ‘properly cleaned’, but it was bullshit. They looked fine to me. It’s also not the first time she’s done it either. She’s being a bitch. Must be that time of the month or something.” For a normally laid-back guy, that came out pretty forceful. Can’t recall Matt ever making noise about something and I wonder how come he feels so protective of Syd. Not sure I like that. She’s my concern.

  Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?

  “Boss?” Fucking Denise calls from the back. Why can’t she come here and ask whatever it is she needs to know?

  Irritated, I throw my towel on the bar and slip under the flap on the side. “Keep an eye on the bar.” I direct at Matt who rolls his eyes.

  Denise is leaning against the wall beside the stockroom, one hip cocked out with her hand resting on it, looking very provocative, but only pissing me off more. “What?” I bark out, having had enough of these games. If she doesn’t knock it off and fast, her ass is gonna be on the street.

  “Can’t get in. Somebody locked it.” She pouts.

  “I did. This why you called me out here? Could’a just come and got the keys.” Angry, I fish the keys out of my pocket and unlock the door.

  “Why?” She grabs ahold of my arm. “We’ve always had it open, so why lock it now?”

  Something about the way she asks seems off and I decide to test her. “Numbers were off, so I decided only Viv and I check the stock.”

  Her eyes go big before they get a calculating gleam in them and she leans towards me, whispering. “I didn’t want to say anything ‘cause I really like her, but the other day I saw the new girl put some bottles with the empties. You think maybe...” She lets the sentence trail off and never takes her eyes off me. It’s clear she’s waiting for my reaction.

  I’m not an idiot. I can smell the set-up a mile away. She was clearly not happy finding Syd in my office when she barged in yesterday, and she’s been all over me like a wet rag ever since. Even Matt says she’s been dogging Syd. Reigning in my anger, I figure I’ll give her a little slack so she can hang herself; feed into her con. “You think it’s Syd?” At her eager nod, I push a little. “Could be. Don’t know much about her.”

  “Exactly,” she hisses, “you don’t and you know most homeless people are alcoholics.” The glee in her face is unmistakable. She’s fucking eating her own crap.

  “And how would you know she was homeless?” I ask, leaning down and getting in her face. “We never discussed that with you or Matt because it’s none of your business, which begs the question: how would you know that?”

  Taking a step back from me, her face blanches, but she tilts her chin in defiance. “Heard you discuss it with Viv. You must’ve left the door open.”

  Fuck that, she eavesdropped. I dec
ide I’ve had enough of this game. “That’s it, Denise. Heard enough of your bullshit and now you’re done. Pack your stuff and get out.” The shock on her face this time is genuine.

  “You can’t do that!”

  I straighten up and look down at her. “Watch me,” is all I say. With a small amount of satisfaction, I watch her stomp towards the bar, so I follow her, watching her collect her things. I plan to escort her out the back door but she aims for the front door instead, intent on making a scene, it appears. She stops with the door handle in her hand and tries for a final word. “You’ll regret this!”

  I just wave my hand to get her gone, convinced she’s only spouting empty threats.

  Big fucking mistake.

  Syd

  “Take a break.”

  Viv gives me a pointed look after she sees me yawning for the umpteenth time. Yesterday was a long-ass day and I slept for shit. By the time I hit my pillow last night, I’d been dead to the world, but nightmares soon woke me up; sweating, and in a tangle of sheets. Seems my subconscious doesn’t care much for the little taste of happy I snag every day. Whether it be from the kids, who’ve become my purpose every day, or yesterday’s exchange with Gunnar, the darkness that lives inside forces its way out at night to make sure I don’t forget. Knowing this, seeing as it’s happened almost every night since moving into the apartment, I didn’t bother to try and go back to sleep. Instead, I tried to distract myself by watching old black and white movies on the tiny TV in the living room.

  With the daybreak, I grabbed a travel mug filled with coffee and a blanket, and went out to sit on the dock to watch the fishing trawlers head out for the day. It’s cool, but the worst chill of April seems to have passed, and wrapped in my blanket with my hands around a warm mug of coffee, I’m quite comfortable. My mind drifts to the people at The Skipper; People who took a chance on me, even knowing I was holding back. Even without knowing something basic like a last name, they judged me at face value, which wasn’t much to begin with, but to them, apparently it was enough. It’s such a new experience for me, having always been judged and mostly found wanting. I’m lucky, I know that, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from steadily gnawing away at my resolve to pull myself up. Vivid green eyes are at the forefront of my mind—eyes that change in color and intensity, depending on mood and circumstance. Eyes framed by incongruently long lashes in a lined, hard, but strong face. Dark and brooding with always a hint of grey-flecked scruff, and strong white teeth between those full lips that seem to counter the gruff appearance. I’ve seen his features soften, only every time he looks at his children, and often with Viv. He cares deep. And for a moment yesterday, it looked like his face softened for me, as if he perhaps cares a little for me too.

  By the time the chill starts to settle into my bones, the dock is alive with activity and I’m no longer comfortable being out here. It’s almost time for my day to start anyway.

  Over the past few weeks, I’d gotten in the habit of cleaning the bar first before Viv even got there, wanting to relieve some of the pressure on her. Seems she’s constantly doing for me and I need to feel I’m giving some back. Objecting at first, she finally appears to have accepted that whether she approves of it or not, I’m gonna do what I do.

  But now, here I am swaying on my feet from lack of sleep and a full day and night of work yesterday, which is exactly why I don’t argue with her, but calmly take off my apron, walk over and surprise her by wrapping her in a hug. I don’t have much to give except something I haven’t done in a long time. Surprised, she initially stiffens before I can feel her body relaxing and her arms surround me too.

  “Thank you,” I whisper with my face buried in her neck. A light touch strokes over my hair before she sets me back a little and looks me in the eye.

  “Didn’t need the thank you, but I appreciate it all the same,” she smiles. “Now go get an hour of rest before the kids come back from school.”

  With only a nod, because speaking right now would be impossible around the big lump that’s lodged firmly in my throat, I turn on my heels and walk out the door. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear voices at the other end of the hallway, and what I can hear chills me to the core.

  It takes me two minutes to pack my meager belongings in the old backpack I carried around for over a year. I’ll take nothing that wasn’t mine when I came here.

  This is my punishment—my mistake for letting my guard down even a little and allowing myself to feel. But in the end, I’m once again being judged and found wanting.

  Worse.

  This time I haven’t done anything wrong, but they wouldn’t see it that way. It’s ironic how I never revealed that part of my past that could condemn me, yet it didn’t matter. I will always be condemned anyway. Never before has the temptation to relapse been bigger. There is definite irony there somewhere.

  I manage to sneak out the back without anyone seeing and slip down the familiar alleyway. I know where I’m going; don’t even have to think about it too hard because not so long ago, I was thinking of doing exactly this, that is until the promise of a different, and better future came along. And I, in my moment of self-delusion, thought I could have it.

  It takes me an hour and a half to find it ... Preble street. I ring the bell at an ornate, large older building that says ‘Florence House’ on the sign in the small front yard. It’s the one place in Portland where I hope to find temporary shelter, at least until I can find another shed, garage, or abandoned building to keep me out of the elements.

  I ignore the pain ripping at my chest and instead remind myself that this is Karma ... My Karma ... my burden.

  A very tall, grey-haired black woman opens the door and takes me in with her eyes from top to bottom.

  “Abusive husband?” is all she says and I shake my head no, not quite sure how I should explain how I got here, but knowing I’d probably have to give them something. Sticking her head out the door and looking up and down the street, she finally pushes it open and motions me in.

  I’m led to a small office at the back of the long narrow hallway and sit down as indicated.

  “I’m Pam, what’s your name?” the woman asks me in a much gentler voice.

  I hesitate, wondering if I should give a false name and continue hiding, or whether I should just be me and deal with any consequences as they come. Having had the warm knowledge that there are people—good people—out there who care, I decide I’ve hid enough. I’m tired of living under the guise of night, tired of being anonymous, and tired of being alone. After having had a taste of social contact, of gentle hands, and the bittersweet feeling of hope, I simply can’t go back.

  “Sydney Donner.”

  My own name sounds loud and strange in my ears and I look at the woman who has patiently waited me out to see how she’d react. I go for broke. “I’m an alcoholic, and I’ve been dry for a year, at least I think it’s been a year.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sydney. Now tell me as little or as much as you want about why you are here.”

  By the time she shows me to a tiny, but private room up on the third floor, I’ve told her everything. Well, almost everything. The moment my exhausted head hits the pillow, I’m asleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Gunnar

  “Hey Dad, where’s Syd?”

  I look up from my endless struggle with the books and now the added task of finding a replacement for Denise, to find my girl leaning in the doorway.

  “Hey, girl. She not in the kitchen?” I get up and walk over to give her a quick hug and kiss before walking ahead of her down the hall.

  Dino is doing dinner prep and Dex sits at the table. “Hey, buddy. How was school?” I ask him while ruffling his hair, which is getting a bit too long. He just shrugs his shoulders, not really answering me. I make a note to take some time and talk to my boy. “Viv gone too?”

  “Went upstairs to check on Syd. Says she sent her upstairs maybe an hour or so ago to take the load off,” Dino says turni
ng around. “Not really like her to miss the kids coming in. She must’ve forgotten to set an alarm.”

  A small niggle of unease crawls over me, but before I can make sense of it¸ I hear footsteps rushing down the hall and Viv bursts into the kitchen. She opens her mouth to speak but on seeing the kids, tries to smooth out the panic on her face.

  “Gunnar, can you come check on something with me?” The silent plea in her eyes in unmistakable.

  “Sure. Kids, just hang with Dino. I’ll be right back.”

  I follow Viv to the stairs, where she turns and whispers, “She’s gone.”

  I stop in my tracks and shake my head. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

  “Come up. I’ll show ya.”

  At first sight, nothing is wrong. Everything seems to be where it should be except for Syd, who’s not here, but then I walk into the bedroom and see the bed neatly made and a stack of clothes folded neatly and stacked at the foot of the bed. On top is the toothbrush I’d gotten her.

  “That’s everything I gave her,” Viv says softly from behind me. “Every single piece of clothing, including the torn jeans from when she cut herself. All she took was that ratty backpack and the few clothes she owns.”

  A sick feeling settles in my stomach when I walk back into the living room and see a stack of bills sitting on the kitchen counter beside the coffeemaker. I walk over to see if she’s maybe left a note, but there’s nothing—just a stack of cash. Viv grabs the money and starts counting. I don’t know why, but I already know what she’s gonna say when she looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “Everything is here, not a dollar missing. She left every last penny she earned these past few weeks. Why would she do that?”