Finding Faith

by Ysabel Wilde

  “Faith, you lived and breathed soccer year round. Why would I be curious about bruises you got from a game?” His eyes told me he spoke the truth, shining with curiosity.

  He never suspected anything. I knew he saw them, too. There was no way being as intimate as we were he didn’t see the bruises I carried with me on a regular basis. He would even make a point to be extra gentle with me. Maybe my lack of acknowledgment is what spurred his blind eye. It was easier to let people believe what they wanted than to tell the truth.

  What he didn’t know is why I lived and breathed the sport. It got me away from her. It was the only way I could get my aggression out without outing the situation, which would make it worse in our house rather than better.

  “Dinner wasn’t cooked well enough. The house wasn’t clean enough. The toilets weren’t sparkling enough. Yours are immaculate by the way.”

  “Faith.”

  He obviously wasn’t going to let me sidetrack him so I kept going.

  “My shirts wouldn’t be folded to her standards. At first it was at random times. Not enough to make you think anything about it. Maybe she had a bad day, or was PMSing.

  “Then the frequency of the nagging increased. I would try to ignore her, but she would follow me into every room I’d run to. Then along with the nagging came the name calling. Sometimes I’d get something thrown at my head. I was quite good at dodging by the end,” I said with a dull laugh.

  I focused on the shadow of a lamp on the ceiling to keep from seeing John’s face. I knew what it would look like, pity. His hand became rigid over mine but didn’t leave, telling me I was probably right about his face.

  “What about Joy and Hope?” John’s voice was vacant.

  “She left them alone. She wanted me. Don’t ask me why, I never bothered to find out. I mean, does it really matter? Anyway, things got to the point where I was getting pegged with random objects several times a day. A glass ashtray to the head as a wake-up call, a can of hairspray to the middle of my back to work faster at folding her clothes. Oh, you’ll love this, a wire hanger because the toilet wasn’t clean enough. Guess what movie was her favorite?” I let out another dead laugh. If I didn’t I would cry.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Faith? I could have helped you.”

  “No. No, you couldn’t have. Not early on at least.”

  I wanted to keep talking because if I stopped the story would stop, and he needed to know the entire truth.

  “I was broken. I took it because I thought that was what I needed to do. Then, one day I saw her start on Joy. When I cut in to stop her, her excuse was she thought it was me. Nice, huh? The woman beat the shit out of me everyday and gave fucking birth to us and said she got confused.”

  My lip curled with disgust. My mother wasn’t dead, but to me she might as well have been.

  “After that I watched her. She was always taking some sort of pills. The day with Joy made me open my eyes to the fact that it could happen to them, too. I had never noticed until I had to start watching out for my sisters.

  She would usually pass out late morning, wake up and start all over again. So one of the many times she was passed out I found the bottle she always reached for and saw it was Oxycontin. After watching her swallow pills all day I sent Joy and Hope out to buy groceries for dinner before she passed out again. I used that as my opportunity to confront her. If I attacked her she would shut me out, instead I pretended to be ignorant about what she was doing and asked her what she was taking? She denied taking anything, no big surprise. I had a feeling she would do that.”

  “Did Joy and Hope have any idea? I mean if you figured it out, wouldn’t they?”

  My eyes were still on the shadow and I was feeling hollow retelling the story. It wasn’t me that this happened to.

  “No. I always kept them distracted so they never noticed her popping the pills. To them it appeared that she liked to drink water all the time. They never noticed the part where she took something when she drank.

  “I would lie for her and tell them she was going through menopause or it was some hormone thing. Hope was too young and wrapped up in her teenage drama to know any better. You remember what it was like to be fifteen, when your twenty-year-old sister tells you something, you believe her. Joy trusted what I said. Why wouldn’t she? We did come from the same egg after all. If I lied to her, that was in a sense lying to myself. Now that I was forced to talk about it I guess I was lying to myself. I didn’t want to think that the problem was that bad.”

  As the words came pouring out I was trying to admit things to myself I never had before.

  “You didn’t have to leave. Why didn’t you go to your dad?”

  “He was in denial, and still is if you ask me. They live together but don’t even talk. What’s the point of being married? But he can’t leave her. He says he loves her too much and she’s sick.”

  “My parents could have helped you,” John strangled out. “You didn’t have to go like that.”

  He took a big swallow.

  “I did. When I first caught on to what she was doing it took a few years to progress. She wasn’t pill popping all day immediately. She’d built up to it. I ignored her at the beginning because it was so minor I didn’t think it would interfere or affect anybody.

  “On days that the beatings were at their worst I would lay in bed at night trying to figure out why. Then one night I realized when it all started.”

  I couldn’t say the words. I was already having a hard enough time, but John understood what I was getting at.

  I couldn’t get myself to look at him. It was too hard.

  “Oh, the accident,” he said.

  I kept talking, not wanting to get sidetracked for once. Now that I’d started, I needed to get out my reasons so he could understand.

  “Then one day it all came to a head.”

  “The day you left,” he said.

  I looked into his eyes. He didn’t need me to say anything more.

  “What happened? Tell me.” John let go of my hand and got up.

  I thought he was going to go get another beer because he had downed the first one rather quickly. The hand that was holding mine was raking through his hair as he started pacing. I could see him struggling to control himself.

  “I gave her an ultimatum that day.” The first time since I started the story my voice cracked. “I told her she either goes for help or I call the police to help her.”

  My voice began to waver uncontrollably, holding back the tears that were fighting to flow out.

  John was making me upset with his stalking. I felt helpless watching him this furious.

  “She didn’t like that. I got clocked in the face, and while I had a hand to my nose to stop the bleeding she punched me the stomach.”

  A taste of the bitter blood that seeped into my mouth during the beating ghosted back into my mouth, making me lick at my lips to get it to disappear.

  “Wait!” John stopped dead, shooting a deadly stare in my direction. “So when you met me at the field that night your face was like that because of her, not a soccer game!” He raked his hand harder through his hair at the realization.

  The pacing started up faster as if the speed controlled his anger. The angrier he got the faster he stalked. Once his gait got back to a normal he finally spoke.

  “Oh my God, Faith, I don’t even know what to say.” He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me. His mouth hung open in disbelief, his eyes were the size of silver dollars, so penetrating they made me feel I was a rare bug under a microscope.

  “Nothing. You don’t have to say anything.” I didn’t want him to see me as one of his patients that he had to baby and take care of. “That wasn’t the thing that made me want to leave if you can believe it. I was able to handle all the abuse. It was what she said to me while I was curled up in the corner of our bathroom trying to get my nose to stop bleeding.”

  I was back in the bathroom, curled up against the corner of the tub, blood
smeared all across my face.

  His eyes got smaller, sharper, like that would help him hear the words better.

  “She told me that if I didn’t leave she would start beating Joy and Hope worse than what she did to me. I refused to live with that guilt. I couldn’t stay and watch her abuse them knowing it was my fault. I had to leave or they would be next.”

  A lot of good that ended up doing, I thought.

  “You believed someone with a drug problem?” John’s face was dumbstruck.

  “Deep down, I didn’t, but the hope she was telling me the truth won out. Don’t think I haven’t lived with the tortured feelings everyday for what I did.”

  “What was the reason you gave them for leaving?”

  “I was relatively vague. I only told them I couldn’t live with her because we didn’t get along.”

  “The same shit lie you told me. Don’t you think you should have told them? Maybe not Hope because she was younger, but what about Joy? Don’t you think she deserved to know? Then you wouldn’t have been alone.”

  Now I wish I had done that, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him. I hadn’t even admitted it to the sister I no longer spoke to when she came out to confront me the very last time I set eyes on her. What is the saying? Hind sight is twenty-twenty? I had to learn the hard way.

  “That’s why they didn’t move here with you, isn’t it? They found out the real reason.”

  He went back to the refrigerator and got another beer. “Want a beer? I think you should have one, or a shot of tequila?”

  “Sure.” I was drained and I didn’t want to think about anything even if it was as simple as having a beer or not. I certainly wasn’t going to get into my sisters with him tonight. I was both physically and emotionally drained. I wasn’t even sure I could pull my body off the couch but I had to. I had that meeting tomorrow.

  I sat up. When I felt ready I pushed off the couch, only to land back on the soft buttery leather that was calling my name like a brick to a mattress.

  “Spend the night. I won’t try anything. I told you that was my version of a handshake. It won’t happen again until you really want it to.” He was attempting a joke to break the heaviness that hung in the air.

  “You keep using that analogy. Do you give everyone handshakes like that? I bet George wouldn’t like it very much,” I grinned at the thought of what the sergeant would do.

  “No, but I bet Luke would with you,” John teased, but I could see the uneasiness he felt in thinking of Luke with me.

  “Ugh, that guy creeps me out,” I shivered thinking about him. That got a laugh out of John, replacing the rest of the caustic thoughts in the air.

  “For the record, you’re the only girl I give that kind of handshake to, and I have to say I’m a little hurt you don’t remember why I say that.”

  His laugh was a husky chuckle down in his chest. God, he was setting my blood to boil without even trying.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m supposed to remember a conversation about handshakes? Am I missing something?”

  John handed me a shot, which I downed with a single flip of my neck without a second thought, followed by a beer chaser to top it off. The burn of the hard liquor was exactly what I needed.

  “Don’t you remember the conversation we had the night you left, after we made love? I wanted you to stay because I didn’t get to say hi to you. Then you told me if that was how I said hi you would hate to see my good-bye. I told you it was more like a handshake. Until four days ago I always wished I had been able to show you the way I would’ve said good-bye.”

  His eyes were serious. I could tell he was waiting for the conversation to click in my head.

  Once he started telling me I did remember, but I chose to ignore it. I must have blocked it out. Instead of admitting I remembered I said, “I can’t stay. I really have to get home I have a meeting with the hospital administration tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s a story for another day, preferably in another seven years. I can’t handle these kinds of talks with you, they’re too draining. It will take me that long to build up enough energy to tell you.”

  There was no way I could handle baring the truth about Brad to him tonight. The text popped into my head and I could feel bile rising again. I swallowed a few times to chase the feeling away. John was going to have to be satisfied with what I gave him.

  “So, now, do you see how it had nothing to do with you?” I asked quietly.

  John came back to the couch and flopped down next to me, our shoulders touching as he relaxed back.

  “I just don’t get why you had to abandon me. I would have come out here with you. I would have left everything back home for you.”

  The sparkle in his eyes was gone. All I could see was the confusion and sorrow I’d caused him before ducking his head to the floor.

  I turned onto my side to face him, bending a leg in front of myself. It inadvertently rubbed against his thigh in the process, sending tiny shocks through my body.

  I wanted to feel the light shadow that had formed on his cheek from the day. First, I decided to stroke out the crease in his forehead. When he worried the creases that formed were so deep, just like his feelings. My sensitive knight, always wanting to protect me. I made my way down to my initial goal, stroking the scruff as I turned his head to meet my eyes.

  John slid down on the couch resting his head on my lap, staring up at me with soft green pools. My hand instinctively went to his hair. His eyes fluttered closed at the first touch.

  “I had to make a clean break. I figured you’d find your true love,” I whispered.

  As I delicately ran my nails against his scalp, I spoke again. “I also didn’t want to separate you from your family.”

  John sat up, leaving my hand void of soft comfort.

  “Yeah, well you see how that turned out,” he said sharply. “At least I wouldn’t have been alone while I had to deal with that loss. Were you that blind? Faith, you’re that woman. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. Not even a remote chance of it.”

  “I know you cared for me and you loved me, but I thought you’d get over me. You never told me all this.”

  I tugged on his sleeve wishing him back where he had been but he refused.

  His eyes were dark again, showing off more of the brown. His deep voice was raw when he spoke again. “It was a big deal, a very big deal.”

  He didn’t reach for me like I wished he would, leaving me with such a loss I wanted to scream. He only sat there, eyeing me.

  His gaze was too intense, going back and forth from my eyes to my mouth, causing me to squirm. The wetness that was forming between my legs was out of control.

  He licked his lips as he stared at my mouth making me want to do that for him. I had to turn away before I did something I would regret.

  The smell of coffee floated in the air, greeting me from a much-needed sleep. It had been months since I slept that peaceful, and considering what I had to face today and where I was, I felt completely relaxed.

  I tucked the down comforter under my chin as I rolled from side to side enjoying the silky feel of the sheets. Like a little kid, I buried my face into the pillow, taking in the musky scent of the hot man who usually occupied this space, letting out a content moan. I could lie all day in his bed smelling his pillow. It would be better with him in it, but I would take what I could get. I wonder if people would think I was a freak walking around with a pillow shoved up my nose.

  What the hell was my problem? I wake up and he’s the first thing on my mind. Get over it, Faith, he can only be your friend, and even that was more than you should allow. But it was kind of hard to not think of him when I was surrounded.

  I heard John padding around out in the kitchen like this was any other day for him, his deep voice singing along to “Wanted” by Hunter Hayes. My breath hitched as I listened to him sing those words, wondering if that’s how he felt about me, praying he did.

 
No, forget it, Faith. My heart jumped with each footstep he took, silently beckoning him to check on me.

  I wonder how many women slept in his bed. Curious, I rolled over to the empty side, sniffing to see if I got anything remotely female. All I was welcomed with was more of John. He’s a bed hog, good to know. I could definitely work with that. If I were interested, that is, which I wasn’t.

  He stuck to his promise about not making a move on me but not before giving me a long, hard look. Those hypnotic eyes saw me naked even when fully dressed, charming me like I was a cobra to do what he wanted. When I leaned toward him to give in to my urge, he shot up, leaving me bereft. He had sauntered into another room without a single word, reappearing with the T-shirt I was now draped in.

  Since he drove and I was exhausted, I didn’t argue about spending the night. He refused to let me sleep anywhere else besides his bed - alone. Even though I offered to share his bed as long as he didn’t try to give me any more handshakes, he refused.

  Then I argued that I wanted to sleep on the couch because it makes me feel like I’m sinking into marshmallow fluff. That only earned me an eye roll and a comment about how nobody wants to sleep on a couch. If I was getting sticky there would only be one reason and he had already agreed to no handshakes.

  A giddy surge welled up in my gut, making me pull up the collar of the shirt to my nose. I could smell him on that, too.

  The smell slowed my heart and made me dizzy. When the room stopped spinning I got my bearings, pulled my hair up into a pony, used the toothbrush he gave me and headed out to the face him.

  The walk I had to take down the hall to get to John helped me build up courage. In the kitchen I could hear dishes banging together and something getting mixed. The closer I got the louder it became. My stomach growled, wanting what I was hearing more than what I was thinking about.

  At the end of the hall I came face to face with the sexiest thing I’d ever seen - John in red plaid flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else. They hung off his waist showing off the delicious V.

  The vision of him at the stove was déjà vu of years past when he would come over. He was cooking an omelet. The smells of ham and cheese made my stomach grumble. It always turned me on to watch him cook and he knew it. I never let a time go by when I hadn’t told him or showed him how hot it made me. I wonder if he remembered.