Finding Faith

by Tabatha Vargo

  He looked down at me and smiled again as he slid against the pew in front of me to get out. The front of his coarse jeans slid across my plain skirt, lifting it and revealing my ankles and white tennis shoes. A cool breeze rushed up my legs and I got chills. I wasn’t sure if it was the cool breeze or the boy. Either way, it felt nice.

  Ladies in fancy hats watched in disgust as he pushed loudly on the church doors and let dusk and evening air into the room. The doors slammed behind him, blocking out the fresh air and leaving me feeling like I was about to suffocate.

  Two

  Finn

  Vandalism. That’s what I was charged with for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had much better things to do with my free time than spray-paint the side of a church. I can’t draw for shit. The last thing I’d do is try to paint anything. The designs on the wall of the church were way more advanced in the art department than I could ever be.

  No matter how many times I told the judge this, no matter how many times I pled not guilty, he still slapped community service on my ass. The court ordered me to attend that same church for thirty days and help them in any way.

  My first day there, a few of the church ladies stared at me like I was Satan himself. Big eyes took me in from underneath flowery hats and thick over-applied eyelashes. I’d never been stared at so much, and that said a lot since I was the front man in a band.

  I’m sure the congregation wasn’t used to piercings and my few tattoos. I could understand that. Everyone was different, including the holy rollers. Even though I probably looked scary as hell to them, there were still a few that treated me like their long-lost grandson and patted me on the head. I didn’t hate that part as much as I should’ve.

  I’d never had a grandma. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I had one out in the world bouncing around, but I’d never met her. When I thought of having grandparents, I envisioned lots of baked goods and cheek pinches—the smell of mothballs and handmade blankets. Some kids would hate that shit. Cheek pinches or not, having some form of family should be appreciated. I’d appreciate it.

  I spent that first day of community service painting over the old red brick that had been destroyed. Luckily, the space wasn’t huge and the church planned on having a local artist paint over the beige square I’d painted as a cover.

  Once I was done with that, I mowed the front of the church. Cutting grass wasn’t anything new for me. My adoptive mom went nuts if the grass got too tall. She was deathly afraid of critters and she swore they lived in tall grass. After having my ass eaten alive while mowing, I had to agree with her.

  I pushed the old lawnmower into a little red shed on the side of the church and cleaned up in the bathroom. After helping everywhere they needed me, I took a seat on the last pew and waited until I could leave. The pastor had to sign my community service paper, confirming that I stayed for the entire sermon. I knew it was pointless to get him to sign it so I could leave early. Asking a preacher to lie? Only I would think of something like that.

  My eyes rolled back in my head as I tried to stay awake through the preacher’s blabbing. The pew was hard against my ass and back and I was getting a kink in my neck from trying to lay my head back against the wood. I prayed silently that it would be over soon, but the preacher continued his rant about Peter. So much for prayer making things happen.

  My lashes tickled my cheeks as my eyes fluttered closed once more. The sermon faded to the background and my breathing evened out. Sleep had slowly come to take me away, and I was well on my way when someone bumped into me.

  My brain rattled and my teeth clicked. My body jarred to the side and my eyes popped open. The sweet scent of roses filled my senses as warmth invaded my side. As quickly as the warmth came, it went as the person who bumped into me hustled to move away.

  Soft pink and luminous light surrounded me. It’s all I saw. Her sweater, her cheeks, and her lips… they were all soft pink and pretty. The light haloed around her, giving her an angelic glow. The way she stared back at me made me want to laugh. Her big doe eyes were wide, a mixture of brown and hazel swirling back at me. Perfect white teeth showed as her pouty lips gapped open in what could only be interpreted as shock.

  Chocolate waves hung loosely around her untouched face. She looked like an actual angel, or at least the way you’d picture one. Maybe they were real. Maybe I never saw them because they only hung out in churches. All she was missing was her wings. She was beautiful, but in a church-girl, skirt-too-long kind of way. Lucky for her, I wasn’t into the wholesome, angelic girls.

  The last girl I dated was far from wholesome. Of course, that only lasted a week, but still, I could smell virgin on this girl a mile away. I’d lost my virginal blood when I was fourteen and since then I hadn’t really slowed down. I didn’t sleep around so much; I just dated… a lot.

  The pastor stopped preaching and his eyes focused in on us. The entire congregation turned to face us, but she was too busy staring at me like I was about to catch fire to even notice. I didn’t mind having attention on me. I actually thrived on it, but I didn’t want everyone in the church thinking I’d corrupted the chick next to me.

  I could still feel the stares on my back when I made it outside. Damn nosey-ass holy rollers. I walked to the side of the church and lit a cigarette. I hadn’t had one since earlier that day and I was having a nicotine fit. The moment I inhaled, my skin felt tingly and my blood slowed in my veins. Relaxation. It wasn’t like smoking some of that mean green, but it would have to do until I was no longer on holy ground.

  “That’s bad for you, you know?” A soft voice slid across me and soothed me like a drag from my smoke.

  I dropped the cigarette to the ground and smashed it into the freshly cut grass with my boot.

  The angel from inside stood before me with her hands locked in front of her. All her hair was pulled to one side and spilled over her shoulder. I wanted to run my fingers through it and see if it was as soft as it looked.

  “Everything that feels good is bad for you.” I grinned down at her.

  “I have to disagree.” She smoothed out her skirt with her hands and stepped closer. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

  “Maybe that’s because I’ve never been here before.” I leaned against the wall, careful not to touch the newly painted section.

  “Makes sense, but why are you here now?”

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I pointed to the big beige square. It looked dry already, but the smell of fresh paint was still strong.

  “Oh.” Her face dropped. “I’ve always loved the brick on this church.” She looked away from me and ran her fingers across the jagged brick. “When I’m older and I have my own home, I hope it has brick just like this. Please don’t ruin it anymore,” she asked sweetly.

  I wouldn’t defend my innocence anymore. It was pointless. No one believed me anyway. The day I was busted, my ex-girlfriend, Jenny, had kicked me out and I had to walk home since I’d blown a head gasket in my fixer-upper mustang while racing my boy Leroy like a dumbass.

  It wasn’t my fault I’d used the churchyard as a cut through or that I’d stepped into some paint that ruined my favorite shoes. Who would’ve known there were people inside the church that late and that they’d come out at exactly that moment to catch me beside the church, trying to wipe the paint from my shoes?

  “It won’t happen again,” I said stiffly.

  She nodded at me and then smiled.

  “Faith?” the pastor asked from behind her.

  I hadn’t even noticed he was there. He was a big man, taller than me by an inch or two, and from the way he towered over her, I assumed he knew it. His black dress pants were perfectly creased and his tie was neatly tied. I’d never learned how to tie a tie in all my life, but the shit looked hard. Salt-and-pepper hair dotted the sides and back of his head, leaving a bald spot on the top that attracted the overhead light.

  I looked back at the angel in front of me. Her name was Faith. It was a good n
ame for her. I didn’t know much about the meaning of faith, but something told me she was the epitome of the definition.

  “Yes, Daddy?” She shrank in front of him.

  And then it all made sense. The pastor’s daughter—somehow she became ten times more appealing. I’m not sure what it was about untouchable girls, but it was human nature to want something you couldn’t have. The odds of me bagging a preacher’s daughter were slim to none, but I’d never cared much about odds.

  She went into herself at the sight of him. I didn’t think she could get any smaller, but I was wrong. He must’ve been a hell of a strict man. The poor girl probably didn’t have much of a life. It was obvious she’d never seen a fashion magazine since she had no sense of style. The sad-looking skirt said it all. She was entirely too pretty to be dressed like an Amish chick.

  “I think it’s time you came back in,” he said as he looked over at me and gave me fake smile.

  His low voice spoke volumes. He didn’t want his daughter anywhere near me. I thought it was funny. I started thinking that maybe if I flirted hard enough, he’d release me and tell my probation officer that I did everything I was supposed to.

  She turned back to me and smiled. I couldn’t help myself. I winked and gave her my grin I knew the girls liked.

  “It was nice meeting you, Faith. I hope I get to see more of you.”

  If looks could kill, the funeral home down the road would be wiping my ass and gutting me. Her father wasn’t happy with me and I was just fine by that. I wasn’t a huge fan of his nonstop blabbing either.

  The front door of the church slammed after he ushered her back in. I laughed softly to myself as I lit another cigarette and relaxed. Not much later, the people started leaving the church and going to their cars.

  I didn’t bother calling my mom to come and get me. I’d already caused her enough shit as it was. The least I could do was let her relax for the rest of the night. So after having the preacher sign my paper, I set off for home on foot.

  I hadn’t really had to walk anywhere since I’d bought my old Mustang when I was sixteen. Thankfully, my mom didn’t ask where I’d gotten the money since it took me months of selling white gutter glitter to afford it. Selling cocaine at sixteen had gotten me quite a bit of shit, but nothing as good as my sixty-nine Mustang. It looked like shit but ran like a champ. At least it did until I got stupid and blew up the fucking thing racing it.

  I was halfway down the road when my mom pulled over and picked me up.

  “You didn’t have to walk, Jimmy. I told you I’d be there.”

  I’d always loved it when she called me Jimmy. My name was James, but she’d taken it upon herself when I first came to her to give me a nickname. At twelve years old, it was a nice change, just like her home had been. Being moved from one foster home to another meant living in some pretty shady places. The moment I walked into her house, I felt like I was home.

  She looked over at me with tired eyes. The new pain medicine she was on was really taking its toll on her. Right after I was sent to her, she started having awful pains in her legs and lower back. She went to a different doctor every month, but no one could ever tell her what was wrong. It was the fifth doctor that finally diagnosed her with multiple sclerosis.

  Over the years, she’d gotten worse. Her vision was wearing down and there were some days when she had problems moving. I was there to help her out as much as I could. She hated the help, but she needed it.

  It was almost as if we were perfect for each other. I was an unwanted foster child who was dumped in foster home after foster home, and she was a woman who was unable to have kids. No one wanted me. Once she was diagnosed with MS, she needed me. It worked.

  I could still remember the first time I’d called her mom. I got in trouble at school and the principal called her in. I’d introduced her as my mom in his office that day and the look of pure happiness on her face filled me with joy. I knew in that moment that calling her Mom had effectively erased her memory of all the bad things I’d gotten mixed up in since I moved in with her. It stuck from that point on. She called me Jimmy and I called her mom. We worked. We understood each other.

  “I know, but I knew you weren’t feeling good when I left earlier. I have two feet and I could use the exercise.” I playfully patted at my stomach.

  “Yeah, you’re such a fatty. Who wants a six pack when you can have eight?” She joked as she reached over and poked my stomach. “So how was the church thing?”

  “It was okay—lots of praying and preaching. I painted over the graffiti and cut the grass. That’s pretty much all they needed from me today. Luckily, I don’t have to go back until Sunday.”

  “Good.” She smiled as she worked the car into the driveway.

  I helped her into the house and then waited until she was comfortable on the couch. Her black-and-gray streaked hair was pulled into a tight bun, giving a good view of her brown eyes and clear skin. Besides a few wrinkles and the dark circles that had developed under her eyes, you’d never know she was almost fifty.

  I pulled a throw off the back of our scruffy plaid couch and laid it over her legs. Once she was all set up with her remote, I went into the kitchen and cooked a small dinner for the two of us. It was late, but I was starving.

  We spent the rest of our night watching our favorite sitcoms in the living room. The chair I sat in had seen better days, but it kept me from falling to sleep since there was a spring digging into my back. Our house and furniture wasn’t the best, but it was home and it was ours.

  When I first came to live with Mom, Ms. Janet, she had a really nice place and I enjoyed living in such richness. There were fine furnishings and the room she’d given me was huge and covered in all things sports. All that changed after her husband, Mr. Charles, died. We moved into something small on the opposite side of town.

  Mom hated the new place, but I didn’t care either way. If anything, I was more comfortable in the bad parts of town. The kids around our new house didn’t look down on me the way the others did. I got in more trouble in school since more trouble was readily available, but I was happier.

  The following Sunday, after taking out the trash and digging out a flower bed for Sister Francis, I went to the single church bathroom to clean my hands and face. I swiped at my pants with my dirt-covered hand before grabbing the doorknob. After pushing the door open, I ran right into Faith. Except this time she was sitting on the floor with her face down and her fist clutched to her chest as if her life depended on it. Her long skirt was hiked up over her knees, exposing a long, shapely leg.

  I’m not sure what I’d expected to be lurking under that god-awful skirt, but I surely hadn’t expected a set of gorgeous legs. A perfectly shaped thigh worked its way up under her skirt. I couldn’t help myself. My eyes followed its path and begged the skirt to go away.

  She moved and the bathroom light shifted across her leg, allowing me to see they weren’t as perfect as I’d originally thought. The creamy skin was slightly tarnished with thin scars and welts. One thing I knew about was welts. One of my foster dad’s favorite things to do was pick the perfect switch on a tree and use it on me. I’d gone to sleep many nights with welts that looked like that asshole’s belt, his perfect switch, or better yet, his shoe.

  My eyes were stuck on her legs as I pushed the door farther. Tear-filled eyes looked up at me, and she gasped. She quickly adjusted her skirt and swiped at the wet paths on her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was in here.” I leaned over and snatched a tissue from the tissue box on the counter and handed it to her.

  I bent down on my knees to look directly into her sad brown eyes, and it felt as if a large hand was squeezing my heart. I wasn’t a naturally emotional guy, but pulling the wings off of a butterfly wasn’t my thing and this girl was hiding wings, just a different kind.

  “Are you okay?” I asked softly.

  She attempted to smile, but it never reached her eyes.

  “Yeah,
I’m okay—just having a moment,” she said with an uncomfortable smirk.

  She reached up with her free hand and nervously tucked her hair behind her ear, while her other hand remained clutched to her chest. A brown strand of hair escaped, and without realizing what I was doing, I tucked it behind her ear and out of her face again. She jerked at my touch and my heart shifted in my chest. It was the strangest feeling.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  I had the strongest urge to protect her.

  There was once a little girl named Emily who I shared a foster home with. She was so sweet and small. I was with her for three months and during those three months, I’d been her protector. Faith reminded me so much of a grown-up Emily.

  She opened her mouth to talk, but before she could answer, her father was at the door. His eyes beat into her and again, she shrank in his presence.

  “That’s enough playing around, Faith. Sister Francis is looking for you.”

  His eyes skimmed my face in aggravation. I turned my attention back to Faith, who was standing and adjusting her skirt. The way we were sitting alone in the bathroom couldn’t have looked good, but I didn’t care. I knew we were being innocent and that’s all that mattered to me.

  “See you around,” she said as she stepped around me and out of the bathroom.

  The pastor looked at me again and I saw a flash of anger in his eyes. His lips tightened in disapproval before he stepped away, letting the bathroom door slam. The noise seemed to shake the whole church.

  I wasn’t sure what it was, but something was off with that man and his daughter. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew a screwed-up family when I saw one. No matter how perfect the preacher pretended to be, something about him rubbed me the wrong way.

  Three

  Faith

  “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” My dad quoted the Bible as he put his belt back on.