you have no idea how much this means to me. thank you so much, i wish i could give you all a big hug!!
CHAPTER FIVE
"Don't cry mister." The little girl was there again. A tiny hand reaching through his arms. To pick up his face.
He wiped at the blood. And the tears. With his coat sleeve.
"You're alright." She said. Touching his shoulder.
"Daddy was just mad."
She put out a hand. And he looked at it. Sighing with a smile. She took his. And helped him up. Pulling him to his feet. Heavily using the side of the house.
She led him to the bench. On the edge of the porch. And let him sit down. The pain hurt. A lot.
"He doesn't hate you. Don't cry." She drew the blanket over his shoulders. Climbing up onto the seat.
She stood there. Looking at him for a long while. Until he stopped crying.
Reaching into her coat pocket. She pulled out some tissues. And blotted at his face. Cleaning away the blood.
He sat silently. Looking at her. Her little hand on his shoulder. For support.
"There." She rocked back. Standing tall. Looking at her cleanup. "All better."
Then. Seeing the tears still in his eyes.
She leaned forward.
And hugged him.
"He didn't mean to hurt you." She spoke softly. Crunching him in her tiny arms. "He was just mad. And scared."
"Why aren't you scared?" The man spoke. Wiping at new wetness. Beneath his nose. Blood.
"Because you're a good person." She smiled as she sat back. "I can tell."
"Here." She took a fresh tissue. Held it against his nose. "Did you know your snot runs down your throat?"
The man shook his head.
"I learned it from Nikky. She's almost a month older than me."
"How old are you?" She asked. Pinching his nose.
"Wait." Before he could speak. "You don't know. Do you?"
He shook his head. She took the tissue from his nose. Sighing. Looking at it. Rumpled and red. His nose stopped bleeding.
"Daddy said you were dead. Is that true?"
"I don't know." Tears came forward. An emotion he almost didn't like. But it felt good. Heating his eyes. The rest of him cold.
Digging beneath his coat. Then his half-open shirt. She put her little palm against his chest. Then. Took up his hand.
He looked down. Through his open shirt. To bruises. Dark. And blue. As she put his own hand against his chest.
"Feel anything?"
"No."
Frowning. She removed his hand.
Then. Leaned down. And put her ear against him. He was surprised at how warm she was.
He began to reach up. To touch her little hooded head. When she moved. "There!" She replaced her ear with her finger. Then his hand again. "There it is!" Excited.
"Do you feel it now?" He waited. Then felt the dull thump. And counter thump.
"Yes."
"It's pretty huh?" She smiled. "You're not dead."
"It's beautiful..." he said quietly.
She sat down. Took his other arm. And draped it over her shoulder. Leaning into him. He looked down at her. And she looked at the front door.
"I like you. You're different."
"I like you." He said. But didn't smile.
She looked up. And she smiled.
Suddenly. She reached up. And plucked at his nose.
"Got your nose." She dropped her hand. Wiggling her thumb. Sticking up between her fingers. Beaming.
"That's your thumb."
"I know." Her smile fell. "It's a dumb trick." She undid her hand. Looking at it. "But dad use to do it all the time to me. It made me feel better." She looked up at him. The smile gone. "Do you feel better?"
He took a breath. "No." The pain still hurt. And his eyes were still warm.
Her little face twisted. She licked her lips. Little tongue.
"I better go back inside." She finally said. "Mom and dad will wonder where I am."
She shook herself off the seat. And went to the side of the porch. Before she disappeared though. She turned. And smiled. And waved.
The man waved back.
The front door opened. The woman stood there. Clutched about herself. She cleared her throat. Wrapped in a long sweater. A wad of Kleenex in her fist.
Her face was red. And her thin neck. Was stretched. Like she'd been yelling. Straining.
He rose up. Faltered with a hand to his chest. Before standing fully.
"My husband apologizes for what he did." She was almost sad. Looking at him. Pathetic. Hurt. Like a dog in the rain.
The man just looked at her. Cold. Alone.
"You should go home." The woman said. "It would be best."
Wide palming his wounds. Feeling the tenderness at his chest.
He turned. Looking out from the porch. To the night. Dark. And blue. The rain had begun again. Drizzling. Lapping puddles.
He stepped out. Down the steps. Into the rain.
With his presence. The rain turned hard. Slashing. Like chewing teeth. Turning the asphalt to mush. And puddles to fusillades.
H e stood still. Blinking. Looking. Not knowing.
He didn't know where home was. So he stood there. Sad again. He didn't like it. Not remembering.
The woman refused to stray from the doorway. "You need to go home." She spoke again. Like to a little child. Whose visit had now ended.
"I don't know where home is." He spoke softly. He turned back. A tear falling. Gold against the silver rain.
And she had to squeeze her face. To keep from doing the same.
His face peach. The peach bruised.
There was a long silence. Awkward. The man stood. And stared. The woman twisted. And thought. And fretted.
"If you'd accept." She turned behind her. Looking back. Apprehensively. Before looking out again. "We can give you a room here. For tonight. As an apology."
The little girl came trotting up. Looking at the man. Smiling. He smiled back.
The woman looked down to her daughter. And stepped in front of her. Protecting her. From a violence that wasn't there. An emotion that wasn't there. A mistrust that shouldn't be there.
He looked up at the woman. She swallowed. Her eyes red. From crying. As he had been.
"Will you accept?" She stood like stone.
He nodded slowly. Shaking in the cold. Wet. Rain.
She stepped onto the porch. Her daughter following. As she took up the dropped blanket. "Come in out of the rain." She said. Soft.
He hesitated. Before he did. Coming up. She handed him the blanket.
He pulled it around him.
The woman turned back inside. Her daughter following. Smiling back at the man.
The man followed them. Smiling back at the little girl.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Don't cry mister." The little girl was there again. A tiny hand reaching through his arms. To pick up his face.
He wiped at the blood. And the tears. With his coat sleeve.
"You're alright." She said. Touching his shoulder.
"Daddy was just mad."
She put out a hand. And he looked at it. Sighing with a smile. She took his. And helped him up. Pulling him to his feet. Heavily using the side of the house.
She led him to the bench. On the edge of the porch. And let him sit down. The pain hurt. A lot.
"He doesn't hate you. Don't cry." She drew the blanket over his shoulders. Climbing up onto the seat.
She stood there. Looking at him for a long while. Until he stopped crying.
Reaching into her coat pocket. She pulled out some tissues. And blotted at his face. Cleaning away the blood.
He sat silently. Looking at her. Her little hand on his shoulder. For support.
"There." She rocked back. Standing tall. Looking at her cleanup. "All better."
Then. Seeing the tears still in his eyes.
She leaned forward.
And hugged him.
"He didn't mean to hurt you." She spoke softly. Crunching him in her tiny arms. "He was just mad. And scared."
"Why aren't you scared?" The man spoke. Wiping at new wetness. Beneath his nose. Blood.
"Because you're a good person." She smiled as she sat back. "I can tell."
"Here." She took a fresh tissue. Held it against his nose. "Did you know your snot runs down your throat?"
The man shook his head.
"I learned it from Nikky. She's almost a month older than me."
"How old are you?" She asked. Pinching his nose.
"Wait." Before he could speak. "You don't know. Do you?"
He shook his head. She took the tissue from his nose. Sighing. Looking at it. Rumpled and red. His nose stopped bleeding.
"Daddy said you were dead. Is that true?"
"I don't know." Tears came forward. An emotion he almost didn't like. But it felt good. Heating his eyes. The rest of him cold.
Digging beneath his coat. Then his half-open shirt. She put her little palm against his chest. Then. Took up his hand.
He looked down. Through his open shirt. To bruises. Dark. And blue. As she put his own hand against his chest.
"Feel anything?"
"No."
Frowning. She removed his hand.
Then. Leaned down. And put her ear against him. He was surprised at how warm she was.
He began to reach up. To touch her little hooded head. When she moved. "There!" She replaced her ear with her finger. Then his hand again. "There it is!" Excited.
"Do you feel it now?" He waited. Then felt the dull thump. And counter thump.
"Yes."
"It's pretty huh?" She smiled. "You're not dead."
"It's beautiful..." he said quietly.
She sat down. Took his other arm. And draped it over her shoulder. Leaning into him. He looked down at her. And she looked at the front door.
"I like you. You're different."
"I like you." He said. But didn't smile.
She looked up. And she smiled.
Suddenly. She reached up. And plucked at his nose.
"Got your nose." She dropped her hand. Wiggling her thumb. Sticking up between her fingers. Beaming.
"That's your thumb."
"I know." Her smile fell. "It's a dumb trick." She undid her hand. Looking at it. "But dad use to do it all the time to me. It made me feel better." She looked up at him. The smile gone. "Do you feel better?"
He took a breath. "No." The pain still hurt. And his eyes were still warm.
Her little face twisted. She licked her lips. Little tongue.
"I better go back inside." She finally said. "Mom and dad will wonder where I am."
She shook herself off the seat. And went to the side of the porch. Before she disappeared though. She turned. And smiled. And waved.
The man waved back.
The front door opened. The woman stood there. Clutched about herself. She cleared her throat. Wrapped in a long sweater. A wad of Kleenex in her fist.
Her face was red. And her thin neck. Was stretched. Like she'd been yelling. Straining.
He rose up. Faltered with a hand to his chest. Before standing fully.
"My husband apologizes for what he did." She was almost sad. Looking at him. Pathetic. Hurt. Like a dog in the rain.
The man just looked at her. Cold. Alone.
"You should go home." The woman said. "It would be best."
Wide palming his wounds. Feeling the tenderness at his chest.
He turned. Looking out from the porch. To the night. Dark. And blue. The rain had begun again. Drizzling. Lapping puddles.
He stepped out. Down the steps. Into the rain.
With his presence. The rain turned hard. Slashing. Like chewing teeth. Turning the asphalt to mush. And puddles to fusillades.
H e stood still. Blinking. Looking. Not knowing.
He didn't know where home was. So he stood there. Sad again. He didn't like it. Not remembering.
The woman refused to stray from the doorway. "You need to go home." She spoke again. Like to a little child. Whose visit had now ended.
"I don't know where home is." He spoke softly. He turned back. A tear falling. Gold against the silver rain.
And she had to squeeze her face. To keep from doing the same.
His face peach. The peach bruised.
There was a long silence. Awkward. The man stood. And stared. The woman twisted. And thought. And fretted.
"If you'd accept." She turned behind her. Looking back. Apprehensively. Before looking out again. "We can give you a room here. For tonight. As an apology."
The little girl came trotting up. Looking at the man. Smiling. He smiled back.
The woman looked down to her daughter. And stepped in front of her. Protecting her. From a violence that wasn't there. An emotion that wasn't there. A mistrust that shouldn't be there.
He looked up at the woman. She swallowed. Her eyes red. From crying. As he had been.
"Will you accept?" She stood like stone.
He nodded slowly. Shaking in the cold. Wet. Rain.
She stepped onto the porch. Her daughter following. As she took up the dropped blanket. "Come in out of the rain." She said. Soft.
He hesitated. Before he did. Coming up. She handed him the blanket.
He pulled it around him.
The woman turned back inside. Her daughter following. Smiling back at the man.
The man followed them. Smiling back at the little girl.