Why are her parents not looking for her? How long has she been here? She is too young and vulnerable to be alone.
“Yes … I came home from school … she wasn’t conscious at the time, but she came around when the ambulance got here. I think it looks worse than it is. Maybe a broken arm … ribs … her face is a mess.” She drops her gaze to her hands the whole time she talks, and I note that they’re trembling. I think the girl may be in minor shock, even still, feeling instant compassion for her. This is not her burden to bear.
“The man was gone I take it?” I try a different approach.
“She was alone, I have a key, so I let myself in.” I see it fully this time, the slight waver in her lip, the darting of her eye. She’s hiding the fact that she knows who did this. She doesn’t know me, and I know from experience she will never tell me unless I gain her trust.
“Do you want to come to the hospital with me in the morning?” I ask, sipping my coffee and watching her, remaining calm and steady. She moves in her seat uneasily and nods.
“Go to bed, Sophie. I’ll get you up in the morning for breakfast.” I smile warmly at her as the look of confusion spreads across her face. I want this girl to know I only have her best interests at heart, that I’m nothing like my mother. She uses people like Sophie as a balm; self-gratification in helping people in need.
“I normally do breakfast and get your mother up.” She blushes as though she’s said something wrong and the anger simmers deep down inside me. Sizzling with fire.
Of course, she’s living my old life. Being the caretaker, the cook, the cleaner, the mature responsible one while my mother is the eternal victim. Nothing changes.
“Not while I’m here, Sophie … You get to be the kid for a few days.” I want to ask her about her life, why she’s even here, how she ended up in the homeless shelter—meeting my mother, but I know it’s late. I’ll have time to talk to this girl, save her from a life she doesn’t need with a woman who can barely look after herself, let alone a teen. I won’t let Sophie have the childhood with my mother that I endured. That much I can promise. This ends here.
* * *
After I’ve cleaned up our mugs and straightened the kitchen a little, I head to my mother’s room pulling out my cell to call Jake while sprawling across the comforter.
He answers immediately, glad that I’m here and that I sound okay. I’ve nothing much to tell him, simply happy to hear his voice. I tell him that I won’t see my mother until tomorrow and don’t want to talk about her tonight.
pining in my absence and being silly. My usual cheeky Jake
Jake ignores him. “I could hop a
can’t bail on his birthday bash.” I object but sigh at just how much I adore him for
even bigger breasts than the last. I swear he’s going to die from implant suffocation one of these days.” Again, Daniel’s voice as
Men!
at Jake’s joke, trying to picture Daniel with another brainless bimbo. He seems to choose girls who wear underwear as day wear and have a collective IQ of
giggle as I wipe moisture from my eyes, smiling like a fool. “You
to cry on.” He sounds like he’s moving around, and I recognize the noise of jangling keys. My mood dying because I
now?” I probe, wishing he was here. That heavy feeling that soon
the word. One little word, Ems and I’m
Don’t … I’m okay, really.” I brush him off ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach while hating myself
so wrong?” The pleading edge is so far removed from who he is, and it just stirs
the one I have
drunk call you in the early hours then, Miele. Better get prepared
things you get up to on nights out.” I grimace
you some of the
in laughing fully, relieved at his inuendo on the other end of
blame a guy for trying.” There’s the return of that smirk
out with a raised brow. “I need to go, it’s getting late and I have to get up
me tomorrow okay? I swear I’ll try not to drunk dial you, but I ain’t making no promises. For some reason, your cute little face comes into my head when I want to have 4.00 a.m. drunken chats about the weather, cats, and weird fetishes.” He laughs,