A Fistful of God

by Therese M. Travis

  More people must have come because they spilled into the yard and noise rose to match the pound of music inside. I ducked around a corner and found a tiny space where a cinderblock wall met a wooden gate. Hunched down, I stared at the light shimmering from the water. I wasn’t hiding, just waiting the party out. Just waiting to find out what kind of shape Mom had gotten herself into.

  I’d call and ask her to come early. I should have done it a long time ago. Mom would have been a lot safer if I had. But I didn’t know where Lucy’s phone was, and I didn’t want to go looking for her and then have to interrupt her. I didn’t want to make everyone wonder what I wanted, wonder why I didn’t have my own cell phone, wonder why I had to call my mom in the middle of such a great party.

  I’m sick. I need to go home.

  I stood up and heard Miguel’s voice, singing to one of the old songs Lucy played. “Have you seen her? Tell me, have you seen her?”

  He danced across the concrete strip around the pool, and I slipped behind him and pretended I’d just come out of the house. No way would I let him catch me crouching in a corner like the kid everyone forgot during hide-and-seek.

  “Yup, I’ve seen her,” he said as he turned. “Whatcha doing all by yourself?”

  I shrugged.

  “What scared you off? Did I scare you?”

  “No. I’m not scared.”

  Miguel jerked his head toward a bench at the end of the pool. I followed and sat next to him, wondering all over again. Some feeling filled me, and though I couldn’t name it, it pressed tears to my eyes.

  Miguel sat with his elbows on his knees so he had to twist around to look at me. “You know, most people, they go to a party, they talk to the other people there. That’s how most people do parties.”

  I had to laugh. “Yeah, but I don’t know anyone.”

  “Oh, so I’m nobody.”

  “Nobody else, I mean.”

  “How you gonna know them if you won’t talk to them?”

  I shrugged again.

  “You mad ‘cause you told me about your mom?” Before I could argue, he leaned closer. “The first time is the hardest, you know? After that, you find out you don’t die when you tell someone. You find out it’s OK to talk about that stuff. It’s not your fault.”

  What I’d told him wasn’t my fault, no. But if Mom showed up sloshed, or didn’t show up at all, that would be my fault. And that was something I would never tell anyone.

  “Aidyn,” he said. “It’s OK for people to know.”

  “I figured everyone knew anyway. Shannon must have told everyone. She must have told Jackson, at least.”

  “And sometimes you think everyone’s talking about you?”

  Except for the times I knew they don’t see me at all.

  “Yeah, well, what does Shannon know, anyway?” He stared over the pool, his fingers twisting in complicated patterns. “It’s OK to have fun.”

  “Yeah. Sure. I’m having fun.”

  He grinned. “I know what it’s like. You get so scared, or so mad, and how can you have fun when anything could happen? But you have to. You’ll go crazy if you don’t.”

  “So that’s my problem.”

  That time he laughed. “Not hardly. You’re not crazy, Aidyn. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet before I could jerk away, and he didn’t let go until we got to the living room again, now dimly lit by candles and crowded with kids and the sound system’s vibrations.

  The smell of cold pizza roiled in my stomach. I wanted my corner back, but if I ran out I’d look like an idiot, so I sat on the floor next to Miguel and reminded myself to pretend I was having fun. If only I could figure out how.

  Miguel handed me another soda, though I didn’t want it. I’d already wasted enough of Lucy’s stuff. I hunched over it and pretended I didn’t mind that he didn’t stay with me but meandered around the room talking to others. After a few minutes, though, more kids wandered inside, and he made his way back to where I sat. He stopped for a minute to jibe at Dan, describing something from basketball practice, and made Wallis laugh.

  Shannon plopped on the couch across the room. I could see she’d been crying. Funny how, even after three years of not even talking to her, I still knew her so well. I saw the way her thumb tucked through her belt loop, and knew it meant she’d relaxed. She knew how to have a good time, even if she’d started out a mess.

  Jackson, picking his way between legs stretched across the carpet, stopped to say something to her and Shannon grinned but didn’t move. That surprised me.

  “Aidyn, this is Stephanie.” Miguel had to yell next to my ear so I could hear him. He pointed to the girl on my other side. She waved, and I waved back, and we settled into the privacy of too much noise.

  The music pounded across the floor, up through my bones and out my fingertips. I couldn’t hear voices, just saw faces mouthing, laughing, frowning, flirting. The room kaleidoscoped in my head, breaking something open, hurting. I decided I hated parties. I’d given it a try and now I could say I didn’t party, if anybody ever asked me again.

  I snorted. Who would ask me?

  The music went dead and surprised voices called out.

  “Circle time.” Lucy carried a sheaf of papers to the middle of the room, nudged aside a few feet, and threatened to use somebody as a chair before we’d shifted enough to make room for her. Someone scooted me toward Miguel. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them.

  “Hey, you know the rules,” Miguel shouted. “You come to a party at Lucy’s you gotta pay. I mean, pray.”

  Lucy made a face at him before she laughed with everyone else. People shoved closer, and I couldn’t back up because of Miguel’s shoulder behind me.

  “We’re supposed to pray,” Lucy said, and began as simply as she had on Sunday, with the same request for centering. I wished I knew what that meant. I wished I had the guts to ask, but that’d show my stupidity. She’d know how very much I didn’t belong if I let on how much I didn’t know.

  “God, You have blessed us so much, even in our need You have given Yourself to us.” I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my hands. Blessed? I really didn’t belong here.

  Lucy stopped. I waited for her “amen” but she left us in our silence. I studied the other kids, their faces solemn or blank, each of us alone with our own thoughts. I had no idea what I was supposed to be thinking or praying.

  I almost choked when beside me Stephanie said, “God, thanks for the help on that cruddy test. I had to pass it, and You didn’t let me down.”

  We had to pray out loud? That was worse than writing prayers on paper. I tried to roll to my knees, to bolt, but had no room. I swallowed my panic and tried to melt into the silence that followed her prayer. I would not pray out loud.

  Wallis spoke up. “Those people who lost their homes in the flood, God, we pray You bless them. Provide what they need.”

  I am so stupid, I don’t even know what flood he’s talking about.

  Another voice. “My dad might lose his job. His company’s downsizing.”

  “My brother got caught shoplifting. He’s fourteen.”

  “It seems like half the people at school are doing drugs lately. Please make them stop using. Please.”

  The prayers came from islands of faces in the darkness. I couldn’t always tell who spoke, and hoped no one would notice that I hadn’t.

  Lucy’s voice. “My little brother’s thinking of moving in with his girlfriend. Pray for guidance.”

  Another silence. “Praise report. I got accepted at the art school I wanted, with a scholarship.” At that, more voices chimed in, thanking God.

  “My dad’s drinking again,” Miguel said.

  I turned to watch him, but he had his head down, hiding his eyes. “Mom said if he hits me again, even if he doesn’t break anything this time, she’ll call the cops.”

  “Good, we’ll pray for your mom to be strong,” someone said.

  “Yeah. Thanks. I know it’s c
oming. If I hadn’t come tonight I’d’ve been pulp.”

  After another silence, and he added quietly, “If Mom doesn’t call the cops, pray I live through it so I can.”

  I felt movement and glanced back. Stephanie had her arms around Miguel’s shoulders, rocking. His head tipped back, now, his eyes closed, and he leaned into her the way I’d seen Lucas fold into his mother. The sight sent shivers over my arms.

  “Praise report.” This time it was Shannon. “I forgot to tell you guys because I was so mad at her, but now I have to say thanks, because I really do love my mom. Anyway, her cancer is in remission.”

  Shock ripped through my stomach, and I stared at her. How could someone like Shannon’s mom get cancer? She wouldn’t let it happen, would she?

  “And then pray she can let me make some of my own decisions.”

  I turned and saw Miguel watching me. He reached out and covered my hand with his, exactly the same way Mom had in the car. I choked and looked up, ready to say a prayer, ask for their prayer, at least. God would listen to them, wouldn’t He, even if He didn’t want to hear from me?

  “Anyone else?” Lucy asked the silence. My prayer slithered into my throat and cowered there. I closed my eyes and my mouth and hoped Miguel couldn’t tell what I’d been about to do.

  “OK, God, You’ve heard us. Please hear, as well, those prayers unsaid, those too secret to be told. Amen.”

  I wanted so badly for my prayer to be one of the ones He heard, anyway.

  People began to move, though Miguel stayed next to Stephanie. I sneaked outside and wandered to the far side of the pool in case Miguel came out to check my corner. He didn’t. I squatted on the edge to push at the leaves floating on the surface and took a deep breath.

  God, please, help Mom. Don’t let her get drunk tonight. Ever, OK? Make her not want to anymore. Make her not be an alcoholic, please? Oh, I’d gotten to be so daring, hadn’t I, using that word even though no one heard, no one but God. I hoped. Please.

  I’d thought praying was meant to make a person peaceful, but I felt worse. Panic burned through me. If I’d wanted Mom to stay sober, I should have stayed with her and made her. I ran into the house. I had to find some way to get home.

  The empty kitchen smelled like sweet soda and pizza boxes. Lucy walked in as I froze, fighting the panic. “Oh, Aidyn, I told Miguel you must have gone home. He was looking for you, but he left. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s OK. I need to go home, too, but I need—I don’t have a cell phone—”

  “Sure, here.” She handed me a cordless from its base on the counter. “Next time you don’t need to ask.”

  Jackson came in with a grocery bag stuffed with squashed cans. “Shannon’s waiting. You ready?”

  “My mom said she was coming.”

  “What time?’

  “Ten. I told her ten.” I wrapped my arms around me and shook.

  Lucy looked at the clock. “She’s late. I bet she fell asleep.” She grinned. “My mom always used to do that. It drove me crazy.”

  Falling asleep was so different from passing out.

  I dialed but our line was busy. I shook so badly I couldn’t get the phone into the cradle. Past ten, Mom would not have called her sponsor so late. Joyce, sure. Joyce stayed up all hours, drinking. Encouraging Mom to take another drink.

  God, why couldn’t You have answered even one of my prayers?

  I looked around and saw Shannon hanging onto Jackson’s arm, frowning. She knew.

  “I’ll call my mom.” I jerked to stare at Jackson while he dialed. “Mom, I need to give Aidyn a ride home after all. Her mom didn’t make it, and she’s kind of upset—”

  How did he know?

  “OK, OK,” he finished. He turned to me. “She said to wait another fifteen minutes, and if your mom’s not here, to go ahead and take you.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” He was doing me a favor, I wouldn’t argue. I thanked Lucy and stumbled to the sidewalk. I should have stayed home. I should have.

  A tree blocked the streetlamp, and I leaned against its trunk, pressing so the bark dug into my skin. How could she do this to me? I bet Shannon was busy telling them why Mom was late. Why she wouldn’t show.

  Lucy’s front door slammed, and I heard Shannon. “Even if she shows up, we’d probably better not let her go—you know. She’s probably—”

  “Shannon—” Jackson started.

  “You’ve never seen her. I have. It’s scary—she gets so drunk.”

  Jackson tried to interrupt again but Shannon talked over him.

  “It scares Aidyn, and she’s too tough to get scared easy.”

  Tough. Right, only, not me. I’m not tough.

  Jackson raised his voice. “It’ll be OK, I promise.”

  How could he promise anything?

  Shannon started up again and Jackson said, “Not so loud.”

  “She’s not out here.”

  I pushed away from the tree and stumbled up the walk, staggering just like my mother, only my unsteadiness came from anger. “We might as well go. She’s not coming.”

  Shannon squealed and slapped her hand over her mouth. Jackson shook his head. “Wait one more minute, OK?” he begged, just as a car pulled up to the curb.

  Mom got out. “Sorry, Aidyn. I couldn’t find that map, and I got turned around.” She smiled and the fear soured my throat until I saw that her steps were steadier than mine had been. “Hi, Jackson,” she went on.

  “Hey, Mrs. Pierce. You made it.” He moved off the porch, and Shannon came with him, holding onto his arm as if afraid he’d sprint away, or afraid my crazy, drunken mother would visit some unnamed evil on her. We stood in Lucy’s front yard, waiting for Mom to act like she planned to get back in the car and take me home.

  “Shannon?” Mom sounded delighted. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.” From the way she acted, I knew she had no idea why.

  “I guess not,” Shannon said, more embarrassed by the second. She looked down and let her hair curtain her face.

  I ran to the car and yanked the door open.

  “Tell your mother thanks again, Jackson,” Mom said.

  After she started the engine I said, “I didn’t know you knew Jackson’s mother.”

  She hesitated. “We met a few weeks ago.”

  “She called you, didn’t she? Tonight, I mean, and told you to come get me.”

  Mom sighed. “Jackson said you were upset.”

  “I wasn’t.” I pushed myself against the door. “I figured you were too drunk to remember.”

  “I know.” Mom pulled into our carport. “I wish I could help you, Aidyn, but I guess you want to do it for yourself. You won’t let anyone else in.”

  Who would want in to help me?

  7

  I lay on my side in bed and stared at blinds broken by age. The dark night rendered them fuzzy. Chunks of streetlight wrestled their way through the holes.

  I did not want to hang around the kids from church anymore. Any kids. They all had so much more than I did—fun, friends, families, people they could trust. I would never be like them. They knew it, and I knew it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hide Mom, or hide what she was. I couldn’t hide me, or my fear. And if I could, Shannon would blow my cover.

  Tears trickled down my face, and I sniffled before I realized what I was doing. I sat up and grabbed a tissue to blow my nose. I was not going to cry just because I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted it so bad, and I didn’t know how to get it. But crying never helped.

  Miguel knew. He was one of them, even though he was like me. How could he do that, be two different people?

  I remembered how Lucy said Miguel had been looking for me. He knew all about me, but he’d still come looking for me. Because he recognized me? I closed my eyes and remembered his prayer and prayed it over in my mind, until it melted into my heart. Until I fell asleep.

  ****

  The next morning the gardener’s lawnmower coughing itself to death woke m
e, and after that, Mrs. Roth, our landlady, started yelling. She yelled at a lot of people, though it seemed she yelled the most at Mom. Either Mom was late with the rent, or she’d done something to tick off one of the other tenants.

  The gardener argued back. I rolled over, deliciously knowing this one time, Mom wasn’t the problem. But Mrs. Roth’s heels rang on the stairs and then our bell sounded, and before I could crawl out of bed to let her in, Mom answered. I pulled the pillow over my head, but no matter how I stretched my legs and arched my toes, I couldn’t shake the jumpy fear. I sneaked into the kitchen to listen.

  “All right, then.” Mrs. Roth shuffled a pile of papers on the table and sent some of them flying to the floor. I scrabbled them together and handed them over then rummaged in the fridge for some juice.

  “Thank you—ah—dear,” she said.

  I looked over my shoulder. Mom didn’t look at all worried, so I relaxed. Still, I figured I had to stand sentinel, to protect us from the wicked landlady who’d love to kick us out.

  “Even so, Mrs. Pierce,” Mrs. Roth said. “Even so, I want it done in the morning. Not too early. But in the morning. You understand?”

  Mom caught my eye and grinned. So what was so important that Mom had to do it in the morning, probably because Mrs. Roth figured she wouldn’t be bombed yet? Hadn’t Mrs. Roth ever seen her with a hangover? Probably not, I decided. Mom liked to stay in bed for those, or just get drunk all over again. I saw nothing in that to share a joke over, though.

  “What’s your best time?” Mrs. Roth asked.

  Mom shrugged. “Midnight? I don’t suppose you want the weed eater going then, though, do you?”

  Mrs. Roth dragged in a hard breath and held it. Mom smiled, and it wasn’t a nice smile, either. “Sorry. Actually, early Saturday morning is good for me.”

  “Not too early.” Mrs. Roth turned to me. “You’ll remind her if she forgets, won’t you?”

  “Remind her about what?”

  “The yard work,” she said. “The garden. You won’t let her forget unless it’s—um—better if she forgets.”