A Fistful of God

by Therese M. Travis

  Mom, on my other side, touched my shoulder. “I’m going to talk to your mother, Miguel. I’ll be right outside.”

  I nodded and stared at Miguel. His open eye seemed steadier. His free hand inched toward me. A splint strapped two fingers but I slipped my hand under his and felt the rest of his fingers curl around mine.

  “Oh, Miguel.” Fear and pity choked me with equal intensity.

  “I still say you should’ve done this before Halloween,” Jackson teased. “You’d have made a great ghoul.”

  Miguel grunted, a cross between a laugh and a croak.

  “I’m gonna wait outside, too.” Jackson pulled the heavy door shut behind him, and Miguel and I were alone.

  “I guess you couldn’t stop him.” I wiped my eyes then bent to kiss his hand. I wanted so badly to feel his lips on mine, but they were covered with stitches, and it would only hurt him. “Mom said the police are looking for him.”

  He nodded.

  “I hope they catch him. I hope they lock him up ‘til he rots.” Until right then I didn’t know how much I hated Miguel’s father. And as I sat on Miguel’s hospital bed, holding the few fingers I could, I understood a little of Mom’s horror that she could have been the monster, the same kind of monster, and I cried.

  Twice after that, I visited Miguel in the hospital. Jackson and Shannon were both really good about giving me rides after school. Both times they waited for me in the hall, as if standing guard. Only when we were on the way home after the last time did Jackson explain why.

  “I guess his dad’s making some threats—”

  “Threats?” I turned in the seat, glaring as if Jackson had been the one to make them. “Hasn’t he done enough?”

  “Doesn’t sound like he thinks so.”

  “Can’t they just find him? He’s horrible!”

  Shannon leaned over the bench seat to touch my shoulder. “We all know that, Aidyn. But that’s why no one wanted to let you go there by yourself. Just in case he showed up again.”

  “What about when I’m not there?”

  “They’re watching him, I promise.” Jackson slowed to stop in front of my apartment building. “Did he tell you he’s supposed to get out tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “Can we do something for him? Have some sort of celebration? Lucy could do something like that, couldn’t she?”

  “I’ll ask her,” Jackson said.

  And I walked up the stairs to my apartment shivering with the thought that the monster might be after me, too.

  The next day the phone started ringing before I got through the door. I tossed my books on the coffee table and grabbed the receiver, hoping it would be Miguel, telling me he’d gone home.

  “I’m home,” he assured me, once I’d gotten over my excitement. “For now.”

  “You’re not going somewhere now, are you? You can’t, you can barely walk!”

  “My mom said I could tell you now.”

  “What?” But a part of me broke the same way his voice did.

  “We have to leave. My mom’s in danger, so we have to go somewhere he can’t find us.”

  “But you can tell me, can’t you?”

  “The police”—he choked on a sob—”No, Aidyn, I can’t tell you. The police say it’s too dangerous because the jerk could get you to tell him and then it would be useless—our hiding, I mean.”

  “But when are you coming back?”

  “I don’t know. If they find him, I guess we can come back.”

  “No!”

  “Aidyn, please—”

  “You can’t leave me!”

  “He hit my mom.” The truth was all there in his voice: Why he was going. Why he hadn’t told me before. Why he wouldn’t tell me now where they were going. Why protecting his mother meant more to him than anything.

  I glanced at Mom. “Can I come see you first?”

  “No, we’re leaving right now.” Muffled words, then he said, “Mom said she’ll bring me by for a few minutes.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.” I heard nothing, but I felt his struggle with his tears.

  Why is it that good-byes are so bleak, that your mind is already on the time when you’ll be apart, already crying?

  Mom and Mrs. Rosas shared tea in the kitchen while Miguel and I huddled in the living room, as though we had to hide from anyone looking in the windows. But this would be his life from now on, this hiding, this fear. The only difference would be me. I wouldn’t be a part of it.

  He kissed me a few times, but I could tell it hurt. He stroked my chin, my shoulder blades, and lifted my cross. “Maybe you should try to find the silver lady again. We need another miracle.”

  “She can’t do miracles. She’s just a creepy lady.” My throat tightened.

  “You never know.” Even with the swelling down I could tell it hurt him to smile, but he tried. “Come on, Aidyn. Have a little faith.”

  “Faith in what? In some crazy lady who doesn’t even know me? In what?”

  “In God, maybe?” His smile disappeared. “I gave you that cross for a reason.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I looked away. “Most of the time, faith doesn’t do me any good.”

  “Oh, Aidyn, I don’t want to fight. I want you to think of me and remember how much—” He kissed me again. “Remember I love you,” he whispered.

  Before they left, his mother dug in her purse and pulled out a copy of his junior picture. She pushed it into my hand. “You keep it.”

  I cried hot tears and rummaged in Mom’s stash of photos to find a few of myself. He limped over to me and picked up the photo of my dad and me, the same one Mom had given me.

  “You don’t look like him, much, except your chin. You’re stubborn.” He laughed.

  “I look like Mom.”

  “You look like Aidyn. Beautiful.” He held the picture out to me. “Can I keep this? I’ll bring it back. I promise. Someday, I’ll bring it back.”

  I nodded. Knowing he’d carry it with him, knowing it would bring him back to me, made it the most precious thing I owned.

  I hadn’t slept in Mom’s bed since just after my dad died, but that night she let me crawl in with her, held me while I cried and let me tell her the plans Miguel and I made with each other but couldn’t believe would ever happen.

  “You’ll see him again, I hope.”

  “You promise?”

  “I can’t do that. But I believe it. I believe with my whole heart that you’ll see him.”

  I pushed her away. “What’s so hard about making promises?”

  “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

  “Why not? You’ve broken plenty of them before.” I knew I’d hurt her, I wanted to hurt her. Losing Miguel wasn’t Mom’s fault, but she was the only person I could fight.

  “You’re right.” Mom drew me back to her side. “And that’s why I made the decision that I won’t make promises I can’t keep, and I’ll keep the ones I make.”

  I sat up, searching her face in the darkness. “Then promise you’ll never drink again.” If only she would, how much easier my life would be.

  “I can’t, baby. No matter how much we both want that to be true, I can’t promise.”

  “Then I don’t want any of your promises!”

  “What do you want from me?” Mom rubbed her face. “I’m doing as much as I can.”

  “You’ve made it this far. It’s been almost two months, Mom. Why not?” I sounded like a begging child.

  I felt her struggle, her shaking. “I can’t, Aidyn. I just can’t.”

  “So you’ll start lying to me and life will turn back into chaos.”

  I turned my back on her and let the silence come between us. Pride said I ought to march back to my own room; pain made me stay. After a long time, Mom whispered, “Aidyn, I can promise this. If I start drinking again, I’ll tell you. I won’t lie about it.”

  At first I shrugged. Then I turned and let her hold me again. Even Mom couldn’t promise Miguel would be
safe. She couldn’t promise I’d see him again. She couldn’t promise she wouldn’t drink. But at least she could hold me while I cried.

  The next day, Saturday, Elaine and Jackson showed up. Shannon tagged behind, giving Mom uneasy looks, even after Mom welcomed her.

  “We’re going skating,” Elaine announced.

  “Skating,” Mom said, as if it were a foreign word. She gave Elaine a look I remembered from childhood, when Dad would come up with some crazy idea and expect Mom to be as enthusiastic as he was. Usually Dad won.

  “Shannon tells me she and Aidyn used to skate together all the time.”

  I glanced at Shannon.

  “Sorry,” she mouthed, and then, louder, “We thought it would take your mind off things.”

  “I don’t want to take my mind off Miguel.”

  She snorted.

  “Skating?” Mom repeated.

  “You know, the little boots with the wheels attached to the bottom? You roll around on them, do tricks.” Elaine laughed. “That sort of thing. Let’s go.”

  “I don’t know how to skate.” But Mom got her keys anyway.

  “Today’s the day you’ll learn.” Elaine gave her a brilliant smile and swept us out in front of her.

  As Jackson passed me I hissed, “I don’t want to go skating.”

  “You’ve got to do something besides moon about Miguel.”

  “I like mooning about him.”

  “I told Mom it was too soon. She’s got this idea that she needs to show Beth how she likes you and thinks you’re this wonderful girl. They got in a fight, you know.”

  I shook my head.

  “Yeah, Mom told her”—he stopped—”I mean…”

  “Your mom can’t stand me; that’s no big secret.”

  Shannon said, “She doesn’t like me either.”

  “OK, so it’s not a secret,” Jackson said. “Anyway, Mom wants to make it up to her.”

  “Are you going to take all day?” Elaine asked from beside her car.

  Mom was already in the front, and the three of us climbed into the backseat.

  Why hadn’t Mom told me they’d fought? Elaine was her sponsor. Maybe that was why she’d missed so many meetings lately. I’d thought it was because of the flu and Miguel, but a fight with Elaine made more sense. And the way she’d refused to make promises the night before. Cold chills started in my neck and spilled down my back. Maybe Mom didn’t have much to hold onto anymore either.

  Elaine started the engine then slapped her hands on the wheel. “We need to talk this out.”

  I sank down in the seat. Great. We were imprisoned. I couldn’t get away without making a scene.

  “You’re getting to be very good at accepting responsibility for your actions, Beth. But you haven’t said one word about the way you yelled at me.”

  “You’re right. I haven’t.” Mom kept her voice light, though I heard the anger. “I yelled at you. I was mad. I think I still am.”

  Elaine nodded. “And I now need to accept responsibility for my own bad behavior. Sobriety does not make a person perfect.” She twisted in the seat, her cheeks flaming. “I admit I disliked Aidyn before I ever met her—”

  “Mom, she’s sitting right here,” Jackson said in an agonized tone.

  “I realize that, son. Aidyn, the truth is, I blamed you for making things so hard for your mother. You weren’t supportive, and I wanted Beth to have the support she needed.”

  I pinched my lips together, certain that everyone in the world saw what a horrible person I was and had judged me unacceptable.

  “I was wrong.” Elaine’s voice strained on the words. “I realize I had it so easy during my early recovery. I had my sons, my husband, and they all backed me up. They wanted the best for me. I only wanted the best for you, Beth, and I was angry that Aidyn didn’t seem to care.”

  Mom held up a hand. “Elaine—”

  Elaine raised her voice. “I was jealous for you. I wanted so badly for you to make it, and I resented Aidyn because I thought she would make you fail.”

  Again, Mom tried to give Elaine her opinion. “Aidyn doesn’t have that power.”

  “I know that.” Elaine relaxed slightly and reached for the gear shift. “One of the first lessons we learn, but I forgot it in my enthusiasm to help you.” She turned to meet my eyes. “Aidyn, I apologize for resenting you. Your mother’s recovery is not up to you.”

  Tortured by raw emotion, I nodded and slid my eyes to meet Mom’s.

  “Now, Aidyn, if you want to help your mom, you’ll go to the Alateen meetings everyone keeps bugging you about. Nobody’s trying to get on your case.”

  I stared at my hands, thinking that “bugging” was a mild word to describe how everyone nagged me.

  “I’m done,” Elaine announced. She pulled away from the curb. “I’ve made all of you uncomfortable, I’m sure, and to make it up to you all, the skating trip is my treat.”

  “I don’t skate.” But no one paid attention to Mom.

  She meant what she said, but I didn’t realize how serious she was until we got inside the rink. Her face went pale when Jackson insisted on fitting her with a pair of roller blades. “I don’t need them,” she said, though not loud enough to convince anyone but me.

  Jackson handed her the skates. “Come on, Mrs. Pierce. Show your style.”

  Mom stared at him, turned to me. “He’s not making sense. I don’t know how to skate. I don’t even know how to put them on.” She handed them to Elaine and walked away, but Elaine followed her. I found a bench to sit on while I changed out of my shoes. By the time I stood up, I could see Elaine had bullied Mom into lacing up a pair. Elaine grabbed her hands and pulled her up, then let go. Mom promptly went down.

  I pulled her up and tried to stop laughing.

  “I’m too old to start this,” Mom yelled.

  Jackson got on one side and Elaine got on the other, and they dragged her to the side of the rink, but that was as far as they got. Just like a horse rearing at the edge of a ditch, Mom threw her hands out to brace herself on the barrier.

  “I’m not going out there.”

  Jackson grabbed her arm, playfully. Mom jerked away, not at all playfully, and glared at him. “I don’t skate.”

  “It’s OK, Beth,” Elaine yelled. “If you’re not comfortable with it, you don’t have to do it.”

  Jackson lifted his hands in a give-up gesture before he and Shannon swooped out. I could tell they’d practiced.

  “OK.” Mom relaxed. She rolled one foot forward, then the other and grimaced.

  “You going?” she asked me.

  I shrugged. Elaine motioned me out on the rink and that was enough to make me want to plant myself next to Mom and refuse to move.

  Mom leaned toward Elaine. “Give me a drink, and I’ll do it.”

  Elaine chuckled, though I didn’t see any humor in it. I turned around to argue as Elaine said, “Feeling brave, are we?”

  “Actually, no.” Mom shook her head. “You want the truth? It’d take the whole bottle to get me out there.”

  That time I yelled, “Mom!”

  “Oh, Aidyn, I’m joking.” Mom waved her hand as though she could brush away the words. “I’m not going to start drinking because of some roller rink.”

  “OK.” I edged closer. “I’ll sit out with you.”

  “What, to babysit me?”

  “No, to keep you company.”

  Her face lit up. After watching the rink for a moment, she said, “If you promise you won’t let me kill myself, maybe I’ll try.”

  “Really?”

  Elaine raised her fist in victory. “Let me get warmed up, and I’ll come back to spot you.”

  Mom grabbed my arm and pulled herself closer, nearly pulling me down at the same time. “You have to stay with me, OK, or I won’t make it.”

  Mom had been with me all week. “I’ll stick by you.”

  “Don’t leave me, Aidyn. Promise.”

  “I won’t. I’ll be right here
next to you.” I meant it. I meant it for the times she got scared, or I got scared. I meant it for the times one of us needed the other to hold on to. I meant it forever, and I never thought it might be the kind of promise I should never have made.

  13

  Mom bounced in from work the Monday before Thanksgiving. “I got a promotion.”

  I didn’t get it. Mom worked with plants. What could she be promoted to? Trees? But I couldn’t ask. Since Miguel had left, opening my mouth to do more than yawn took too much energy. I rubbed my eyes beneath my smeared glasses and watched Mom.

  Her eyes sparkled as she danced around our old living room furniture. She’d caught her hair in a French braid that morning, and now, with the dark frizzy spits of escaped curls framing her cheeks, she looked so young and so happy. I straightened a bit, digging my elbow into the broken sofa spring to lever myself. Only in the last few weeks had her face lost the alcoholic sag she’d worn for so long. Now she looked like the mother I remembered from back when Daddy was still alive.

  “I finally get to do what I’ve always wanted. I’ve been trying to prove to Toni that I could do it. She told me today that she’d always known I could, too, that I’d be really good at it, but I couldn’t handle it when I was drinking.” She laughed. “God bless sobriety! It means a raise, Aidyn. A big raise and commissions.”

  “What kind of promotion?” I scooted forward so the lumpy couch wouldn’t lure me back into closing my eyes.

  “I am now Toni’s official landscape consultant.” She grinned. “This means I get to advise people who need help with their gardens or yards. It might be as simple as finding the right plants for the kind of sun exposure they get, or as big as plotting out a whole yard.” She bounced on her toes. “And if we have more money, maybe we can get some new furniture, fix up this place. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Some new things in your room?”

  “I guess.” I didn’t want to hurt Mom or squash her enthusiasm. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so excited about anything. But everything she’d used to tempt me back into caring for life seemed flat, colorless, and empty. Anything without Miguel looked lifeless.

  Mom danced a bag of frozen peas from the freezer to the stove. “The best thing is, I’ve already got a big job lined up. Someone who just moved here is coming in tomorrow to consult with me about landscaping his whole property. I can’t wait, but I’m a little scared, too.” She glanced at me.