.rreevviieeww...please
Chapter 8: Family
Laurie huddled in the corner of the basement, shivering and listening intently to the creaking movements of the floorboards above her. She had finally run out of tears and was left with dry sobs of sorrow, confusion and pain. She never imagined that she would become a parent, especially in such a way as this. She had watched her friends be tormented by their abusive father or drunken mother. She witnessed how even wealthy adults could be cruel and decent parents were spat on by their rebellious and self-absorbed children. She had experienced the lack of parental figures as she was tossed from one foster home to the next. By an early age, she had determined that bringing a child into the world was simply a cruel punishment for both the parent and the infant.
"Let me go, Jim!"
"Don't you scream at me, woman!"
The sharp sound of the palm of a hand meeting skin made Laurie's shoulders twitch. She felt utterly useless as she simply stood outside the rundown and diminutive home. She had been instructed long ago to never go inside and merely wait for her friend at the end of the driveway. Still, the waiting was excruciating.
"Where the hell do you think you're going, kid?"
"Out!"
"Don't you –"
"Don't touch me! Get off me!"
Laurie watched as her friend pushed open the front screen door and hurriedly stepped outside. Their eyes met just in time for the girl to choke back any tears. She shoved her hands in her sweatshirt pockets and jogged towards the on looking Laurie.
"Nikki, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she mumbled defiantly, "let's just go. Sunny's waiting."
Laurie stood in silence for several moments as Nicole began walking down the street. She simply stared into the broken home of her friend with penetrating eyes.
The horrific memories of her friends' and their parents flashed in Laurie's overcrowded mind. It was all she could do to not go completely insane. She had to turn her mind around, turn her heart around. She knew how easily she could slip back into her bitter and callous self. It was the façade she had molded around herself to protect her from all the pain, the loss. If she pretended like nothing hurt her, eventually it was like nothing did. But that internal isolation came with a price. She knew who she really was but still felt tempted to revert back into a shell.
"No," she thought to herself, "I can't. Not now."
Laurie slammed her eyelids shut and desperately attempted to block out all the painful and terrifying thoughts and memories. She couldn't let herself focus on the negative of her past. She couldn't allow herself to dwell on what could happen to her.
Her chapped lips began to move slowly as Laurie distraughtly began to talk to the one person she knew she had left. She wasn't alone, not really. She had almost forgotten that, almost let that break her down. Her prayers were whispered and cracked, but persistent. She not only pleaded for herself, but also for her newborn child and then, her friends. She remembered how soothing it had been to hear the man's voice on the radio. It was not simply the fact of human contact, it was the voice of a friend, of hope. She let their smiling faces scroll through her mind and soon was finding different memories relating to family.
"I can't, Laurie."
"Why not?"
"I just can't. You know why. My dad would kill me."
"It's just one dinner. Please, Nikki. Just come. They want to meet you. They're really nice people."
"They're parents. They can't be nice."
"But they are. I promise. How long has it been since you've had a good meal? I know you, Nikki. I know you're parents don't make you anything and you barely get by by yourself. I'm asking you, as a favor. Please, do this for me."
"One meal?" Nicole questioned sheepishly.
"That's it. If you hate it, you never have to go again."
Nicole nodded and Laurie allowed a hidden smile to curl at the corners of her lips.
The house was certainly not luxurious or generously proportioned like those on the North side of town, but it still possessed some sort of a different atmosphere than much of South side. The structure seemed to almost give off a sort of welcoming warmth. The lawn was properly mowed and weeded, small groups of purple and blue flowers lining the diminutive front porch. There were a few chips in the paint of the siding, but the white outside color of the house appeared, for the most part, well-maintained. The same could have been said for the porch as you could see small spots of the original wood shade every now and again. It certainly wasn't perfect, but it was far better to the sights Nicole had grown accustom to.
As they approached, Nicole suddenly stopped. She had been examining the appearance of the house so diligently that she hadn't even noticed. As she stood in astonishment, Laurie turned around and cocked a curious eyebrow.
"What is it?"
"It's so quiet."
Laurie turned back to the home and listened as well. Her friend was quite right. Laurie had simply began to grow used to the stillness. Ever since she had began to allow those at her new church to befriend her, she had started visiting them at their homes and joining them for meals or studies. Most of the congregation lived on the South side of town. Some resided in the more middle class section to the East, while many came from the middle of the downtown, south side chaos. There were even a few that owned extravagant homes on the North side, but only those few. It was quite a mix but Laurie eventually found that they all had something in common, some indescribable difference to the rest of the world that she knew. Sure, a lot of them still had problems. Some of the kids in the youth group went home to homes much like Nicole's. Some of the adults were dealing with marital problems, while some members struggled with drugs or alcohol. It was those church members that had saw Laurie through her painful detox and stood by her side and pushed her, even when sometimes she didn't want it, but needed it.
The two girls approached the house and a young couple reached the screen door before they even fully ascended the porch steps.
"Ah," The man began with a warm smile, "hello Laurie. And this must be Nicole?"
"Nikki" the girl mumbled, half nervous, half defiant.
"I like Nikki," the man replied, unscathed by the remark. "I'm Brian. This is my wife, Julie. We're happy you could come."
Julie nodded and edged the girls inside with a gesture.
"So," she began with a friendly grin, "Nikki, do you like meatloaf and spinach?"
Nicole furrowed her brows and twisted her tongue. The mentioned food items made her stomach twitch. She initially opened her mouth to vehemently complain, but then felt a twinge of guilt. It was odd. Any one of her friends besides Laurie would have spat at their kindness, insulted their home or cooking, or not even attended.
"I didn't think so," Julie laughed, noting the girl's reaction. "That's why we're having whatever you want."
"Me?" Nicole's voice was barely audible and she backed away slightly.
"That's the rule," Brian added. "Laurie got to pick her first time over here."
"I think it was pepperoni pizza and ice cream." Julie giggled.
"What can I say?" Laurie smiled. "I'm not very creative."
Nicole frowned and stared down at her sneakers. She shuffled her feet against the wood floor and swished her mouth like she had gum.
"I don't –" she started with a whisper and then cut herself off. "I can't."
Without another word, Nicole spun and thrust herself out the door and ambled down the front steps hurriedly. Laurie turned to follow but was caught by Brian's hand.
"It's okay, Laurie. You didn't want to come here either."
"I seem to remember a broken dish or two while trying to get through to you." Julie added with raised eyebrows.
Laurie feigned a smile at her mentor's attempt at humor.
"Just give her time," Brian sighed. "You can't rush or force her, just like we couldn't with you."
"I sure was a pain," Laurie smiled, "wasn't I?"
"The biggest." Julie grinned.
Laurie smiled at the memory. Sure it was depressing as it demonstrated yet another failed attempt to help her friend, but that ending stuck with her. It was the closest thing she had to parents; two adults that looked out for her and cared for her. Her foster parents only worried about their name being drug through the mud by her poor life choices. These people, they were something special. They were what gave Laurie hope for families.
"Family" she scoffed internally, still unable to remove the pressing anxiety from her mind.
She again cocked her head and stared up at the ceiling. It wouldn't be long now. He promised her that she could see him. She was going to hold her own baby. She wondered what sick game this man was playing. Was he going to let her see the infant, cradle him in her arms, and then whip him away just to torture her? She somehow didn't care. All she wanted was to know he was still alive, if her family was still alive.
