"Bless me Faddah, for I have sinned..."
"How many days has it been since your last confession?"
"We're countin' in days??" the urgent voice of a guilty teenager filled the confessional and the ears of a tired old priest. She hadn't known how to ask for forgiveness, never had set foot in a church before that day. She had caught Monahan, one of the boys, kneeling and fingering a rosary, and had threatened to 'beat da taw outta him' if he didn't show her how. I was an odd way to learn how to pray but none the less, she was there, in the church.
"What wrongs have you committed against the Lord or God, Child?" she didn't much like being called a child, and hated admitting her faults.
She hesitated for a long time, trying to think. Monahan hadn't told her about this part, she'd have to give him a shiner or two when she got home. "I ain't quite sure what's right an' what's wrong anymore...faddah..." she added, out of respect for this man of God.
"Have you put any gods before The Almighty?"
"gods? No..." she said, trying to squint through the checkered partition, giving up when she realized that if she could see him...he could see her. She wasn't safe in many places, and even had to be suspicious in a church.
"Gods can come in many forms, money, pride--"
"Pride..." she said absently.
"I see...have you kept the Sabbath Day holy?"
"When's da Sabbath?"
"Sunday."
"Oh right, right...what's tahday?"
"You don't know what day it is??" he asked, surprised at her ignorance.
"Well, ev'ry day ya jist git up, do wacha gotta do tah survive, go tah sleep-if ya got a place tah sleep-an' repeat da process da next day." she told him, explaining her life, and the life of every New Yorker at that time, in a sentence.
"Do you cheat? Steal?"
"Cheat? Only when we'se got havin' one a' our big pokah games wit' dah boys from dah Bronx or Harlem. I ain't proud of it...I feel like a goddamn jackass, hidin' aces in me sleeves--"
"That's taking the Lord's name in vain."
"Sorry Faddah..." she said dismissing him. It wasn't that she didn't hold this priest in high esteem...she just liked the sound of her own voice. When she got started, there was no stopping her. "Ya know, dat stealin' is justifiable. Ya gotta eat ta live, an' sometimes ya gotta steal ta eat."
"The Lord always provides to those in need--"
"Dat ain't true! If I jist sat on my ass waitin' for food ta fall outta dah sky ev'ry time I was hungry, I'd be sittin' in dat spot for dah rest a' my life, 'til I die a' starvation dat is. So let's jist agree to disagree on dat one."
The priest was taken by surprise and had lost count of how many 'Hail Mary's and 'Our Father's it would take to save this poor soul.
"Do you honor your father and mother?"
"I don't have a Muddah and Faddah..." It's true. She's an orphan, since as long as she could recall. Never knew her parents and never knew what happened to them. They were just non-existent, it's always just been her, her brothers, and a faint remembrance. "So, what are dah othah sins? I know dere's more."
"Do you lie?"
"No."
"No?"
"No. Lyin' is wacha do ta git outta trouble. It's a coward's way out. I ain't a coward an' I ain't afraid a' nuthin or nobody!"
"I believe you...Have you ever committed a murder?"
"A...murder?"
"Killed another person, taken a life?"
The question fell before silence.
"Charlie? CHARLIE???" there was an impatient knock on the door and someone was calling her name.
"I'm sorry faddah, I got othah business to attend to," she said, getting up off her knees and reaching for the knob. "Please...pray for me."
She had already gone, and he said to no one, "Don't worry, I will...may God have mercy on you."
A near-woman and her escort began to walk briskly out of the sanctuary of an fantastically designed church in Queens, New York when he lit up a cigarette.
"Ya desicratin' da House a' God..."
"Fuck God." He responded, and caused a nurse in a pew nearby to blush and catch her heart in her throat before 'shoo'ing them both out the door. "I dunno why ya bothah goin' in dat place. There ain't no God an' if dere was, what would he want wit' a couple a' street rats like us?"
She raised her fist threateningly, "It'd be pretty hard ta keep criticizin' me wit' a fat lip, ya know Rusty?"
He smiled, "Yea, yea I know--"
"Why'd you call me out anyway?"
"Oh, you're gona love dis...Sumner's heah."
Sure enough, a tiny boy, less than ten-he wasn't even positive how old exactly-stood on the street corner, wringing his hat in his hands. "Hiya Charlie..." he said cautiously.
"What's Roy want, Sumner?" The sun had almost completely set and the streets were calming down, she was looking at another job.
"He jist said he wanted ya, now."
The three walked a few blocks to the Queens Lodging house-if it could be called that-and once they arrived, they split. Charlie made her way to the fourth floor, and last door on the left. She was stopped, while she was in a hurry, by a girl that came halfway to her stomach.
She looked up at her with dark, ocean blue eyes. "How do I look Charlie?" The girl had rouged cheeks and lips, and a corset dress on to match her eyes. "Courtney gave me sum a' her clothes an' makeup! How do I look???"
"Like a Grade-A whore--"
"Charlie!!!" Courtney appeared from Roy's room. She's his favorite. She and the small girl, Paige, are the only ones allowed in his room besides the family. "Your brother's in there."
"S'pose you jist got done wit' him?"
"Shut UP Charlie."
"It don't bothah you any...go find Monique. Git a job."
"Yay! Monique! C'mon Courtney lets go!!!" Paige dragged Courtney into the stairwell and out of sight.
She stepped into the room and was overcome with the smell of sex, blood, cheap cologne, and smoke.
"How's it goin' baby sistah?" he asked, sitting back in his chair and perching his worn shoes on a crate from one of the Brooklyn docks. It's his one of his prized possessions.
"Why don't you tell me how it's goin' big bruddah..."
"I'm sendin' you out tahnight."
"I figured that much...where? who?"
He got up and went to the drawer in his nightstand to get a small piece of paper. "You know we don't say stuff like dat out loud. Here." He handed the paper to her and she shoved in her pocket without even looking at it.
"Anything else?"
"Yea...quit messin' around wit' Courtney. She has da idea you don't like her or sumpthin!"
"Fine. Tell her to keep her brat outta my way."
"Paige ain't nuthin--"
"Even though you're dah leadah heah Roy, you're still family and I trust I can tell you when sumpthin's botherin' me an' you won't be critical wit' me..."
"I ain't bein' critical...but when my goil aint happy, I ain't happy."
"Then git a new one!!! I don't get why you pretend she's special wit' you fuckin' all a' Queens!"
"You were right about one t'ing Charlie," he said while getting up. "I am da leadah heah. An' what I says, goes...right now I say YOU go!" he opened the door and gestured her out. "Now, Charlie!!!" She tore out of the room at the sound of him yelling and got a swift kick on the ass along the way.
The Queens Lodging House is not like any other. The top floor holds Roy and Courtney's room, Paige never leaves their side either unless they need 'alone time.' Donovan's is next to theirs...but lets not talk about him until we have to. After that is Charlie's room, then Wyatt's. Wyatt is her little brother, he's an innocent-one of the younger boys.
You cover your ears while going down the stairwell between floors four and two. The third floor is where the older girls stay. Sometimes what you hear through the walls will give you nightmares.
The second floor is where the older boys stay. You go there if you want to lose some money or get a few bruises.
The Innocents have the next floor. All the kids, 12 and younger-Roy's rules, one of his smarter ones.
The ground level is where the kitchen and dining room are. There's always hot food ready, in the morning when everybody wakes up, at lunchtime when a few people pop in between 11 and 3, and at dinner as well. Nobody's quite sure how it gets there, but it's always there. The lounge has a few worn couches that the younger kids fight over, and there's an office where the Advisor would keep all the paperwork on the lodgers--if there was an Advisor.
"Where we goin'?" Rusty asked, kicking off from leaning on the building. Charlie fumbled with the paper, got it out of her pocket and threw in at his head.
He picked it up off the ground, brushed off the dirt and read, "...Midtown...dat's closer ta 'Hattan den I wana be--"
"You scared?" Charlie secured her hat on her head and shoved loose pieces of hair inside. Dark New York is a creepy place. "Scared a' 'Hattan?"
"I ain't scared a' nuthin! I'm scared...a' 'Hattan's friends, ya know?" He looked at the ground, refusing to meet her eyes.
"Conlon? He ain't nuthin'..." They walked together, saying nothing. "So who is it?"
Rusty sighed, took off his hat, letting his signature red hair stand out and glow under the street lights, and pulled out the paper once again. "Man by da name a' Danny Walker."
"An' where is Mistah Walker dis evening?"
"His brudder's place on Sutton."
"Dey make it too easy for us! Lets go." They crossed the bridge and continued into the night...