by Jenny Wood
“That’s fine, I was worried when Jody said you just left. Call me, tomorrow?” He asks.
“Okay, feel better and thanks for coming tonight. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.” He smiles and they ring off.
“He’s okay, he just had a headache,” Connor tells me. I can tell by his face that he truly believes that. While it’s true that Connor ran into some bad luck with an angry father of a gay teenager a while back; he didn’t see the world for what it really was. He owned a bookstore filled with fantasy and he befriended all of his neighbors and townspeople. He was a well-liked man and in return, he liked people. He’s probably never even heard of a domestically volatile relationship. I lived one, back before I was adopted into the Kennedy family. I saw the look of fury far too many times to count. I nodded my acceptance anyway.
“Okay, well… I’m out of here.” I tell him, patting his shoulder on my way. He’s used to my abrupt departures and my “less than” conversational skills. I find Kingsley and Morgan before I leave. They’re sitting together in Kayson’s tattoo chair; Morgan’s back against Kingsley’s front. Neither of them has stopped smiling since they saw each other at the altar.
“I’m gonna head out,” I tell them, drawing their attention to me. Neither of them leaves their seat.
“Thank you for being here with us, today,” Morgan says to me. Despite our initial meeting and my almost monumental fuck up; Morgan has gone out of his way to get to know me. He doesn’t rebuff my shitty attitude or let me get away with alienating myself when he’s around. He was determined to be friends, which is ridiculous because he’s family now. It’d take me a while to stop keeping him at arm’s length; but it was just easier that way, for me. It’s a hard habit to break.
Knowing that my now married brother and in-law, were going to a B&B for the week; I had the house to myself. I fed Oreo, Kady’s hamster and then threw myself onto my bed, still dressed. For some reason, I couldn’t get Cameron out of my mind. That was nothing new, I thought about him a lot since I’d known him, but something just wasn’t right with that boyfriend and I wanted to know what it was. Cameron was the type of person to smile, even when the world was crumbling around him. I didn’t understand that. I had a hard time smiling on a good day.
I found, in my life, there wasn’t much to smile about. My earliest memory was coming awake on my little mattress on the floor in an old, dirty, two-bedroom house. My older brother, Liam and me shared the queen size mattress in the otherwise empty room. We had a few clothes, some broken toys and a pair of shoes, each; but that was about it. Our mom and dad were fighting again and I could hear her crying from the other room. My dad loved it when she cried, it was the only time I’d ever heard him laugh. It wasn’t a normal laugh, it was sinister and scary as fuck, I’d been known to wet myself and cower, just from hearing that laugh.
“It’s okay, Jody.” My brother Liam would tell me. He’d scoot over and cover us up over our heads with the blankets, in an attempt to drown out the noise.
“Mama’s cryin’.” I’d tell him. He’d close his eyes and take a deep breath and then try to smile.
“It’s okay. Mama’s big enough to take care of herself.” He’d say, but we both knew that wasn’t true. He’d sling her around like a rag doll and he didn’t care who saw.
“Why’s he so mad?” I’d wonder. “Mama never did anything that bad. Not bad enough to get a whippin’.”
“I dunno, Jody. Let’s just try to go back to sleep.” Liam said. And I would. We’d keep the blanket over our heads and somehow, with my big brother with me; things just didn’t seem as scary.
Weekends were the worst because Liam and I didn’t have school, so we were home all day with our mom and dad. Dad would spend the day drinking and by nightfall, he’d be madder than a wet cat. We all walked on eggshells and tried to stay out of the way, but he always found a reason to be pissed off.
I was seven when I lost my big brother; he was fourteen. He’d started getting bigger now that he was growing up. He got taller and started running track in school; he was always running everywhere. One night, when Dad had started drinking as soon as he woke up, he was arguing with mom about the neighbors. I don’t even remember what made him so mad, but whatever it was, it was mom’s fault. He went to hit her like he always did and I guess Liam had had enough. Dad turned around and grabbed Liam by the back of the neck and slung him down to the ground. Liam didn’t move, not for a long time. I sat in the corner of our kitchen, watching to make sure his chest was moving up and down while my mom went full blown crazy, attacking my dad.
His chest was still moving and I thought that was a good sign. We’d seen mom get knocked out a time or two and we knew that as long as her chest was moving, she’d wake up in a second. I vaguely remember dad hitting the ground, mom hit him with something, but I didn’t see what. I was still watching Liam. Mom fell to the floor and picked up his limp body and laid him in her lap as she cried over him. I didn’t care about any of it, I just watched his chest. Several minutes went by, still waiting on Liam to wake up when his body jerked and he started throwing up, thick, white, foam.
“Jody! Call 911!” Mom yelled, snapping my attention from his chest. 911? How was I supposed to call 911? We didn’t have a working phone.
“Next door, go, now!” He screamed, turning my brother to his side. I noticed then that my mother’s face was swollen and bloody and my dad, lay unmoving on the floor. I jumped over his body and ran next door to call 911. Our neighbors were loud and rowdy and I was actually surprised when one of the party-goers actually made me stay at their house, while the others went to check on my mom and brother next door.
Everything after that was a whirlwind. Cops, social workers, judges, courtrooms. I didn’t see my mom for a long time after that and I never saw my dad or brother again.
When my mom did finally come pick me up, I’d been in a group home for boys for almost 8 months. My eighth birthday passed without much fanfare, but I did meet some new boys at my school who I’d gotten along with, really well. That’s where I met my brothers; Kayson and Kingsley Kennedy.
I’d like to say that my mom straightened up; but after getting out of jail, going through a couple parenting classes and bullshitting the state that she was fit enough to raise me; we’d found a little apartment closer to my new school. Because she never worked and the very small life insurance money that my dad had, had long since run out; she kept a revolving door of men in and out of our house, in order to pay bills. I was already spending the majority of my nights with the Kennedy’s and their dad wasn’t much better than mine, but their mother was an angel. I was lucky to have found them all.
I didn’t sleep for shit; I never do. I get up before the sun, head down to the home gym that Kingsley put in last year and concentrate on upper body today, then I run seven miles on the treadmill before making breakfast and tidying up. I feel Oreo again and log on to our office schedule to see if I’ve got any added appointments. I don’t, meaning I don’t have to be in until two this afternoon for a consult and then a few hours after, to finish up a neck and shoulder piece. Deciding to spend my morning with the kids at “Heaven’s Haven”, I run by the shop to get all of our donated things that the community brings in. We have a toy drive at the first of every month and by the end of the month, Kingsley or myself, take everything over. This is only our third month doing it, but our community really sets those kids up.
When I started volunteering my time at Heaven’s to paint a mural on their outside wall; I surprised a lot of people. I don’t look like the type I guess, that’s what someone had told me once, after my first couple shifts. I shouldn’t have been offended, but I was. What does a person have to look like to have compassion? To care about the wellbeing of abandoned or neglected children?
I backed my truck up to the rear doors of the house where a couple other volunteers met and helped me unload. There are toys, clothes, jackets, shoes, canned food, art supplies, books for all ages and even a
video game console. I would bet all my money that came from Kayson. He’d just recently bought himself the same one.
“Jody!” The chorus of kid voices rang out when I entered through the front, like always. It reminded me like it did every time I walked in here, of the nights I spent in the group home back in California all those years ago. There were a lot more kids in the one I stayed at, being that it was a huge city. This one only has nine residences right now, ranging from age five to seventeen. I take my time here to spend one on one time with every one of them so none of them feel like I did when I was a child of the state. I wouldn’t have cared if there were a hundred and twenty kids in here, I knew what it was like to be looked over, to be seen through. I wasn’t going to let that happen with these kids, not from me at least, not a single one of them.
“Ms. Jay said that you were bringing books!” Carrie asked, jumping around me in a circle.
“And games too!” Jonathan said, also bouncing, just a little more contained.
“Ms. Jay said paint too. We can paint!” Five-year-old Garret chimed in. I couldn’t say that I had a favorite because my heart bled for all of these children; but if I had to, if I absolutely had to, I’d pick Garret. He was small for his size, with red hair and freckles. It’d taken him longest to warm up to me because I was a man and because I was big. He’d been taken away from his family home after his dad had broken his collar bone and they couldn’t hide the abuse anymore. They were from the next town over and both of his parents were now in prison. Because it had taken so long for him to warm up to me, I felt like I earned it. It meant the most.
“I did, but you’ll have to wait until everything gets put up and Ms. Jay says it’s okay to get them out,” I tell them. I figured they’d be disappointed, but none of them were, they were just happy to get new things to do at the center.
I sit on one of the couches in the rec room and give my attention to everyone. I listen to stories about school and best friends. I hear about a dance coming up and birthday parties. One has football practice and a game coming up, I promise that I’ll go. Eleven-year-old Stefan has been playing football since he came to the group home and it gives him someplace else to belong as well as an exit for all his frustration and heartache. He’s a good kid, they all are.
I hang around long enough to get the game system hooked up in the rec room, then take some time to hang out with a couple of the older kids, outside. The center relies on these older kids to help out with the younger ones a lot of the time; don’t get me wrong, not any of these kids are mistreated in any way, but with a staff of only a handful, a lot of times the older kids don’t get the attention that they crave.
“Do you have to go to college to be a tattoo artist?” Jase asks me as we sit on the bench out in the garden a little while later.
“You don’t have to, no; but you should. Anything you decide to do would be better with education as a backup.” I tell him honestly. I knew that was true because Mrs. Kennedy treated me no different than she did her own kids when talking about college. Meaning, I was going… And I did.
“I’m graduating in a few weeks.” He tells me, picking apart a flower and letting the petals drop between his feet.
“That’s great!” I tell him, nudging him with my shoulder when he doesn’t say anything else. “High school is tough. You survived it.” I try again for a response.
“The state pays for my college if I want to go.” He says, looking at me now. I figured that this would be something to be excited about, but he looks the farthest thing from happy.
“Not a bad deal, bud. Some people stay in debt half their lives because of college.” I tell him.
“Yeah.” He says, dejectedly.
“You don’t wanna go?” I ask. He fidgets, looking around the garden before he answers.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’ve never been alone before.”
“You wouldn’t be alone, there’ll be a shit ton of kids there with you.” I remind him. The college is in the next town over, it’s a much bigger city than our small one. It’d only be a 20-minute drive there or back if he chooses to stick close.
“You’d be twenty minutes from home, tops,” I say. “You could even live on campus and come back for holidays and shit.” I encourage. He breathes out a small laugh, shaking his head and looking at the pile of petals, still at his feet.
“Come back, where?” He asks. Understanding donning on me way too late, I felt like such an ass. “I don’t have a family to come visit for the holiday’s.” He says softly, words that are like a kick to my gut. “I don’t have a mom to call when things get overwhelming or if I run out of boxed noodles and brain food. I know there’ll be a lot of other kids there too, but when I leave here; it’s just me from then on.”
I wish I’d have thought of that, maybe I could’ve gone about this chat in a different way. I have a real knack for stickin’ my foot in my mouth more often than not.
“This world is big; fucking huge.” He surprises me by saying. “There are billions of people in it. Everyone is connected to someone, in some way. Think about people in New York or California or Texas or somewhere big, where the cities are huge and fast paced and you think of people running to this place and that, getting on with their busy lives. They have cousins and friends and brothers and sisters and parents and grandparents and neighbors and shit. Everybody has somebody that they’re connected to.” He takes a deep breath as I hold mine. “I don’t have anybody. I have a cell phone, with two phone numbers in it and one is Ms. Jay. I won’t have a reason to keep it when I graduate, I’ll have to get out, delete her from my life like I’ll have to, her phone number.”
“Well that’s bullshit and you know it.” I finally reply. “Ms. Jay will hound you wherever you go. Once you’re one of her kids, you’re always her kid. She’ll expect you to come back and visit.” I nudge him again with my shoulder.
“Where’s your phone?” I ask. He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. I grab it and enter my cell as well as the shops’.
“Here, now you’ve got mine and you don’t have to ever delete it.” I hand him his phone back. “If you’re serious about interning, I’ll see what I can do, but if there’s anything else you’d like to do; just tell me. I’ve got the guys at the shop and you know how Conner is. He’s got a lot of pull in the community. What is it that you really want to do with your life? Do you know?”
“I want to help people; be a surgeon or something. A doctor.” He tells me softly. I’m surprised but impressed.
“Then we’ll look into it. If that’s what you want to do, we’ll start looking at schools. I’ll help, I’ll do anything I can to help. I’ll get some information and see what we need to do to get you there. Okay?” He nods and smiles for the first time since we’d come outside. I may be an asshole sometimes, I may be quiet and keep to myself and maybe a lot of people keep their distance from me, whether it be their choice or mine. But these kids, I make a difference to these kids and that means something to me.
Chapter 3: Cameron
Asher was gone when I woke up this morning. He’d tried to kiss me awake and I’d heard him whispering his “sorry about last night” into my ear while I pretended to stay asleep. I felt his fingers run across my bruised chin and I heard him scold himself as he got dressed to leave. I’d had to take a psych. course in college, I knew the man was bat-shit crazy. I just couldn’t do anything about it.
When I finally got up, I took another shower, I didn’t want any residual reminders of Asher on my skin. I’d want to wash my sheets when I got home tonight as well. When I was content with having the scent of vanilla bean back on my skin that was all soft and me. I picked out my most favorite pair of pink satin panties to wear under my scrubs. They were soft and delicate; pretty. They made me feel that way too. This was my sick perversion that my parents had found and kicked me out. It wasn’t enough that I was attracted to boys, I had to like makeup and women’s panties. Somehow, that translated to deviant beha
vior and I was something to be ashamed of. I was, I was ashamed of it. I knew it was weird. I wasn’t hurting anyone with it though and Asher tolerated it. He even seemed to like it sometimes, though he’d never admit that.
To me, they made me feel pretty. The way they fit just below my hips, hugging and curving around my body. They felt good against my skin; soft. I loved them. I didn’t wear them all the time; I wanted to, but I saved them for when I needed to feel good about myself. Like today, when I needed the extra armor.
I’d spent several minutes applying concealer to my skin, covering the tiny markings from last night. They were dark today, more pronounced. There was nothing I could do about the split in my lip, no gloss could cover that up, so I used a slight gray colored eye shadow to line my lids. It helped take the focus off my lip and accentuated my gray eyes. It really made them shine brighter.
Luckily, no one really asked about my lip this morning. I’d made up this elaborate story about embarrassing myself while trying to catch the bouquet at a wedding yesterday. Of course, I’d try to catch the bouquet; I wore makeup to work and had pretty, long-ish hair in the front. Of course, I’d consider myself one of the ladies, right?
I hated that people saw me that way without getting to know me. None of them knew the real me and if I’m being honest, maybe I didn’t really know the real me, either.
My morning passed without much incident. I was going back and forth from pediatrics to the OBGYN floors. I had one mother in early labor and three patients on peads. One had bronchitis that morphed into pneumonia; one who’d just had surgery on a broken arm and one had a head injury we were monitoring. It wasn’t a busy day; in a town as small as mine, we didn’t have emergencies often. By lunch time, I’d harassed my patients, checking on them more than usual and talked my broken arm kid into a game of checkers, all before noon. My lady in labor had her own nurses now that they’d called in the nurses on call. I was no longer needed, which sucked because unless someone needed me, I was just sitting around a lot today. I’d just called in for a pizza for our floor; for myself, our billing lady, our receptionist and our doctor, when a deep voice sounded behind me. My body tensed up at first, but I recognized that voice almost immediately. It was Jody.