by Rye Hart
After I was medically discharged from combat and lost my leg to an IED, I returned to my hometown, Boston, and my welcome-home present was the discovery of my wife’s pregnancy with another man’s baby. The fucktard happened to be a man I’d considered a friend. Needless to say, it led to a nasty divorce and my eventual move thousands of miles away to no man’s land.
The way I saw it, I had two options: murder the dick who knocked up my wife, or leave town and shut myself off from everyone.
I chose the latter.
Isolating myself in the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains in Buffalo, Wyoming was just what I needed. That’s where I belonged, and where I started my new life. It was a stark contrast from my life in Boston, but it was exactly what I needed.
Little did I know, it would be the future home for my niece and I. Life had a way of kicking us both while we were down. Even so, we sure as hell weren’t going to give it the satisfaction of taking our dignity. Not on my damn watch.
***
As I walked into the elementary school Star attended, I glared over to the playground hoping to catch the five-year-old doing something resembling fun.
Crap, am I even cut out for this?
I asked myself the same damn question that filled my mind for months.
Since Star moved into my cabin, we’d experienced roadblock after roadblock. To say she’d been having trouble adjusting to her new environment would be putting it lightly.
In truth, it’d been a complete shit show, and I couldn’t blame her one damn bit. Star had every right to hate the world. The poor kid went through years of hell, and three months of living with an uncle who practically cut himself off from everyone he knew wasn’t going to give her the warm and fuzzies.
Before walking inside, I finally caught a glimpse of the cute little cotton-top girl whose blond hair was a mess of curls, pulled back into a confused ponytail. Like most mornings, I tried to do her hair and failed royally. I couldn’t figure out how many times to loop the damn hair band. It was either too loose or so tight it would give her a facelift. And those baby hairs—what the hell was I supposed to do with those little hairs?
Star was sitting on a swing, slowly moving back and forth and seemed to be watching a crowd of kids who were playing Red Rover. I could tell she wanted to play, but it was as if she was afraid of some invisible force lurking in the darkness.
Star was afraid to get close to anyone. If only she could open up and learn to trust others enough to be happy. I’d give anything to see a smile on my niece’s face again. There was just one problem: her sole caretaker was just about the worst example for any kid to mirror a life after. We both found comfort in locking the whole damn world out.
I walked inside, angry that I couldn’t do more for her. She deserved the best, and as far as I could tell, I was failing miserably at giving her that. Whereas most kids her age couldn’t be paid to shut-up, Star barely spoke a few words in a day. It was a stark contrast to the chatty two-year-old I remembered my brother gushing about.
“I’m here to see Counselor Durdin.” I rattled the keys in my pocket, playing it cool, but not fooling myself.
The woman behind the counter pushed up her glasses. She was a pretty girl, with bright blue eyes and a soft complexion, but she had a severe red slash across her mouth that had been done up with too much lipstick. The woman didn’t need that much makeup, but noticing the scar marring her lip, I could understand.
I understand probably more than most people.
To this day, I could still feel the presence of all ten toes from my left leg, even though it had been torn from my body in combat. It was easier to mask the injury, than give others the opportunity to ask me about it, or even worse, pretend like it didn’t exist. I hated the moment others would stare, the way their postures would change ever so slightly, the way they’d avert their eyes like they’d been caught staring at something they shouldn’t be seeing. It was easier to avoid the whole damn experience all together. I’d rather stick needles in my eye.
“Have a seat, and she’ll call you back in a moment.” She pressed a button on her phone and then as I took a seat in a black plastic chair, which had been molded for much smaller people, I heard her relaying the message that I was there.
I stared at the Bison mascot mural for what seemed like ten minutes, before I heard my name called. “Mr. Owens?”
I looked up to see a professionally-dressed older woman, with long black hair down to her waist. I stood as she held out her hand and took it, surprised when she gave it a firm shake.
“I’m Hattie Durdin, the school’s counselor. I’m so glad you were able to make it today.” She turned and led me into her office, shutting the door behind her. She offered me a seat across from her desk and I sank my large frame down into it before speaking.
“I’ve been wondering how Star has been progressing in school. Thank you for arranging this meeting.”
“Mr. Owens, Star’s adjustment at this school is important to both of us. I was assigned to follow up with her by her case-worker in Boston. The case-worker called me earlier this week to ask how Star has been holding up.”
“Case-worker? I hadn’t been aware one was assigned to Star.” I said, slightly annoyed that no one from the state of Massachusetts cared to inform me of such a pressing matter.
“I’m sorry you were not made aware. I’ll be working with you to keep you abreast of everything going forward. I learned the move for Star has been quite a change for her. The poor girl has been showing signs of it too. Are you aware that she doesn’t speak here at school? That’s a sign of a child that’s been through severe trauma much like Star.”
“Yes, I’ve had conversations with Star’s teacher about it. We are doing our best to help Star adjust. It hasn’t been easy.”
“I see.” She paused to write something down in her legal pad. “Mr. Owens, normally we would use discipline in such matters, but Star’s situation is unique.”
“Discipline? Why would you discipline her?” I asked, getting more annoyed. This wasn’t going very smoothly so far.
“Well, my concern is that this may be more of a defiance issue—” she started.
“Hold on a second,” I said, cutting her off. “Didn’t the teacher tell you that she doesn’t talk at all? It has nothing to do with defiance. She doesn’t talk to me but a few words here and there.”
“Oh, I see. So this isn’t simply a school issue.”
“No, ma’am. Not at all. She has a trust issue. Rightfully so. If you’d been through what she has in the past few years, you’d be leery of the world too,” I said sternly.
I’d be damned if anyone was going to overlook Star’s traumatic past, and use defense mechanisms against her.
Star’s father, my brother Luke, passed away in battle when she was two. Her mother spent her time drowning her sorrows in alcohol, to the point she became neglectful and frankly a poor excuse for a mother. I didn’t care how depressed she was after my brother’s death. It was no reason for her to abandon Star.
Star was thrown into the foster care system when she was three. Most of the homes had only been temporary, so she’d been moved around seven times in the past two years until I’d taken her in only months ago. I’d only had custody of Star for the last three months. It would have been sooner had I been made aware of the matter, but I’d shut off communication from friends and family for some time following my move to Wyoming. I still felt damn guilty about not getting involved sooner, but I was there for her now. Nothing was going to change that now.
“You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry for coming across as inconsiderate. It’s just that Star’s situation is concerning and we all want the best for her. What are your thoughts about exposing her to some outside support? She seems to be struggling with reading, but that’s inconclusive. Since she won’t talk, it’s been a challenge to come to this judgement. We feel if she were to have a tutor, someone who could help her build a bit of confidence using her voice in pr
ivate, then maybe she’d open up a bit here in the classroom and participate.”
“I see your point. I’ll make it work. I haven’t really read her any books, but I’ll start.”
I had just recently gotten the bedtime routine down, and it didn’t include storybooks. I told her tales about me and her dad when we were kids. She seemed to like those stories a lot, so maybe she’d enjoy a fairy tale or fable book as well.
“That would certainly help, but I’d still look for someone to tutor her. We don’t want her to fall behind.”
The idea of Star struggling through school had me worried. What she learned could take her through life, and I couldn’t let her be shortchanged. More importantly, she needed to feel confident that she was just as smart and capable as other students - if not more. That type of thinking would be a trap, leading to low self-esteem onto her adult life.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Is there anyone you can recommend?” I asked.
She reached into her desk and handed me a paper with a list of names. “These are a list of older students and teachers who don’t mind helping with tutoring. You can call and set something up if you like, just let us know when you do. We want to mark her progress. And don’t worry, Mrs. Marsh will be doing everything she can on her end to see that she keeps her levels up. She is a bit younger than the other kids, too, so that makes a difference.”
“Well, her birthday is tomorrow. She’ll be six.”
“Yes, I saw that in her file. Have the two of you made any plans?”
“I’m taking her out for pizza and ice cream."
“That sounds like a wonderful idea. Star’s lucky to have an uncle like you in her life. Without your help she would be in a far dire situation.”
I nodded and cleared my throat.
Unfortunately, luck was something Star lacked most thus far. Before Star came into my life, I was living life for myself. I was isolated from everyone and a selfish bastard telling the world to fuck off in every way imaginable.
Now, I had a bigger purpose and I wasn’t going to let my dim past screw things up for Star.
***
The next day was eventful. Star enjoyed her pizza and ice cream, but her eyes lit up when she opened the doll I had waiting for her in the house. Since she didn’t have a lot of friends or toys, I decided her birthday was the perfect time to spoil her. She’d only brought a few things with her from Chicago, and aside from furniture and some matching curtains, her room was pretty bare these last three months. When we returned home, she found the kid size kitchen set I’d left her in the living room, and she ran over and started cooking dinner for her doll.
She exhausted herself early and finally crawled up beside me on the couch and fell asleep. I carried her to her room and kissed her on the forehead before I went to bed next door.
I promised Cynthia, my elderly neighbor, that I’d bring Star over for breakfast. She was probably the closest resemblance to a local acquaintance I had in Buffalo, and lucky for me, she enjoyed our company.
Considering I was a prick to everyone around me, it was most likely Star’s company she enjoyed most. Cynthia talked about loving children and wanting grandchildren of her own. Whatever it was, I was grateful for her presence for Star’s benefit.
***
When we arrived at Cynthia’s place, Star was greeted with a blue-and-pink cake, with big icing flowers and a little plastic tiara on top.
“That cake is huge. Did you make it yourself?” I let go of the birthday girl’s hand as she jumped up and down.
Star’s eyes grew big, and she hugged Cynthia who placed the cake on the small, round kitchen table that she’d done up with a pink tablecloth. Balloons and streamers hung over our heads, and I couldn’t help but feel gratitude for the woman’s efforts.
“Yes, sir. I used to teach cake decorating classes back in the day. There’s not a lot this old bird can’t do. I tell you, I was made to be a grandmother, but you can’t convince my kids of it. They’re so busy traveling the world and busy with careers, I’m not sure they’ll ever have kids.”
Cynthia Darling, who was in her late sixties, with grey hair, apple-round cheeks, and more spirit than most, had welcomed me with open arms when I’d showed up next door. When I’d gotten Star, she’d gone into full grandma mode, and despite me offering, she wouldn’t take a penny for her help babysitting Star.
“You’re going to spoil her.” I let loose a laugh as I saw the stack of presents that Star ran over to inspect.
Cynthia leaned in close. “She needs to know it’s a special day, and that she has people here who love her. Besides, is that a new doll? I thought you were buying her a kitchen set?”
“I did, but I thought a doll might also be a new friend. One who couldn’t leave, who she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to.” I whispered to Cynthia.
“Smart thinking.” Cynthia turned her head to watch Star who inspected the table next.
“She talked to her doll last night. I could hear her through the walls. Ask her its name.” About that time the timer went off, and Cynthia walked over to pull a breakfast casserole out of the oven.
She placed it on the counter and then turned to Star. “Who is this beautiful friend you’ve brought today?”
Star smiled and took the chair, which had a few streamers and balloons taped to it. She placed her doll in the chair beside hers. “Jackie,” she said softly, smiling to show off her missing front tooth.
“Jackie? That’s a gorgeous name. Did you know there once was a beautiful queen of Camelot named Jackie? I’ll have to tell you about her sometime.” She turned and gave me a wink as she opened a stack of pink and blue plates.
After we ate, and Star opened her gifts, which turned out to be two new outfits, and three play sets full of everything she needed to accessorize her new kitchen, she busied herself on the floor as I stared out the window sipping coffee at Cynthia’s table.
“Thank you for everything you did. You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
“Are you kidding me? This stuff makes my day. Hey, you look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” The old woman took the seat next to me and added cream to her coffee and I took a deep breath. For some reason Cynthia was one of the few people who could get me to open up and actually say more than an obligatory few words.
“Yeah, I talked to the school. I have to find someone who can tutor Star in reading. They said she needs someone with experience to give her the attention she deserves. They don’t want her to fall behind, and I sure don’t either.”
“Some kids just bloom later than others, but that doesn’t mean much. She’s been through a trauma, and once she gets used to a stable environment, and sees that this is forever, she’ll come around.”
“Yeah, but by then, she might be too far behind to catch up. I can’t help feeling useless. I wish I could just make it all better right now.”
“You do what’s best at the moment. No parent knows exactly what’s best for their kids every single time. It’s barely more than trial and error.”
That was a relief to hear. I’d been doing that since I’d brought Star home; flying by the seat of my pants.
“Thanks. I know it’s going to be okay. It’s just a bit harder than I thought. She’s a great kid, though.” I watched her playing on the floor with Jackie and her gifts, and remembered my brother and me on our birthdays. If we’d had half of what she’d gotten for her birthday, we’d have felt rich. Then again, none of that replaced the value of a stable household with loving parents.
“Maybe if there was a nice young woman around—"she started.
I rolled my eyes and held up a hand to stop her. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have enough on my plate right now just taking care of Star. I don’t need a clingy woman to demand my attention as well.”
Cynthia pursed her lips. “You just need the right woman,” she said.
I shook my head and stood up from the table to excuse my
self to the rest room. No way was I going to sit through this lecture again.
A night of great sex here and there was one thing, but I needed a relationship like I needed a hole in the head.
CHAPTER TWO - DREAM
“Why aren’t these people at church? It’s Sunday.” I placed my tray on the stack and straightened my nametag and apron.
“We always get a rush around ten on Sundays. All the heathens that were out on Saturday night are just waking up while the holy rollers are walking into church. You’ll find it happens every week. They come in here to get a hot cup of coffee to nurse their hangovers.”
“Ah, and I thought Sundays would be a breeze for some reason.” I couldn’t complain too much, and not just because my boss, Harold, was watching from the register, but because Liza had gotten me the job at the diner just days ago after taking me in. I was lucky to have found her and a steady job.
Beggars surely couldn’t be choosers, especially a beggar on the run from a dangerous man.
“You’ll get the hang of it.” She had been so kind and encouraging.
“Thanks again for the job, Liza; and for taking me in. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“Think nothing of it. You can clean a few of my tables though if you like. That’ll cover it.” She gave me a wink as I raked my hand through my ponytail. A slow ache throbbed in my temples. I’d not worn my hair up in such a tight ponytail in ages.
I also hadn’t stood on my feet for so long, but it was decent money, and I’d already earned a few big tips from men who liked to make naughty jokes about my name.
Liza leaned close as she walked past. “Pull down your sleeve, Dream. Your bruises are showing.” I quickly tugged down my sleeve and let loose a long breath. The deep bruises that my ex had given me were still fading on my arm and had turned a sickly shade of yellow that had mixed with a putrid brown. If seen, they would provoke questions I was not willing to answer.
“Thanks. I keep forgetting.” I tugged the sleeve down until she gave me a thumb’s up. “You’ve been so good to me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.” She’d not only found me a job but given me a place to stay. “You’ve been a shining light in the dark.”