Title: A Hero's Sin
Author: Buttons
Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: Drama/General
Chapter 5—Medda
On my way to the grocery to get carrots I passed Irving Hall. Sitting outside in front, smoking through a long cigarette holder, was Medda. She stared off into space, the corners of her eyes wrinkling in thought. There was a light snowfall and she wore delicate white lace, fingerless gloves on her hands and a thin black jacket clung to her shoulders.
I was a dreamer. I think that's what made me do it. There really is no other explanation. I was always curious and questioning.
I paused and glanced to her. The music from the Hall was pouring out into the street, thick and warm. I walked back and stopped next to Medda.
"Excuse me," I said softly, as I say most things.
Medda sighed deeply, and blinked. She drew the cigarette holder to her rouge lips and took a drag.
"I think you knew my father," I paused, unsure if she was listening to me.
She exhaled and tapped the end of her cigarette onto the ground. "Honey," she said, her voice surprisingly thin and smooth at the same time, "I know a lot of men."
"His name was Jack Kelly. He left in 1902."
Medda's eyes focused, the pale green in them becoming darker, more alert. "Ah, yes, Jack," she sighed. She reached a hand up and touched my cheek. Her hands were cold on the fingertips.
"You do look like Sarah. But you have your father's mouth."
And for some reason this made me want to cry.
0o0o0o0
Medda Larkson lived above Irving Hall. The walls in the hall were thin, so the sound of the show beneath carried up to her loft. Medda was very pretty. She smelled like perfume and cigarettes. Her hair was tied loosely around her hair, creating a red halo that framed her green eyes. Her room wasn't large, but it was luxurious. The bedspread was a thick, white cotton cover and the furniture all matched, in dark mahogany woods. The drapes around the tall windows were white and gossamer, like those one would find in a fairytale tower. Situated near the windows was a dark circular table with four chairs. Medda put on the kettle in the other room and brought teacups, sugar and milk to the table.
"Sit down, Nichole," she said.
I did.
Medda arranged her skirts and sat across from me. She shut her eyes and I could see the bluish veins running across her eyelids. "So what do you want to know about your father?" she asked after a long pause.
What did I want to know? There had been so many questions and suddenly I had forgotten them all.
"I…I don't know…"
Medda opened her eyes, mildly surprised by my answer.
Medda sighed that long, tired sigh again. "There's so much and so little to know about Jack Kelly," she began. "I knew your grandfather, Calvin Sullivan. He was a troubled man. Always getting caught up in get-rich-quick schemes and dragging your father and his poor mother into it too. Around forty years ago by now, your grandmother caught a bad cold. She kept Cal and your daddy up all night coughing. She held on for almost three years, but she died in her sleep. She was a good woman, Juliana. Too good for your grandfather, I thought."
I hadn't thought about this. My grandparents.
"Then your grandfather got in over his head and he went to county prison for murder. Your father tried to keep alive on the streets, but he was young and was sent down to the Refuge. He broke out and found me. Your father has sat in that very chair many times."
I noticed Medda wouldn't use my father's name. She wouldn't side with either Jack or Francis.
"Now, as I understand," she hesitated a moment, as if deciding whether she should continue. "he is living in New Mexico. And I…I don't know much else." I knew she was lying, but it was more then anyone else had told me, so I didn't press any further.
Medda stood up to get the kettle and left me alone with my thoughts.
In New Mexico. This wasn't exactly a surprise, after all, it was his dream and what he had expected all along, but it seemed so real now. And how did Medda know this? Had she been keeping in touch with my father all these years? Who else had he been keeping in touch with?
Medda came back with the tea balanced on a tray with a plate of biscuits. She poured me a cup and I stirred in my milk.
"So…my father's alive?"
Medda smiled in a pained way, her lips tight as she stirred her tea. "Yes, he is."
"How do you…how do you know?" I asked next, fearing the answer.
Medda closed her eyes. "Your father's been writing to me," she admitted. She sipped her tea, not daring to make eye-contact with me.
I felt it. It began with a stinging in my nose. Then it was a blurring in my eyes. I wouldn't cry. I couldn't cry in front of Medda. In front of this woman who was so strong and such a role model to people. Mama wouldn't cry.
Mama would cry.
And then I heard Medda sniff. Through my own tears I could see a silent one sliding down her pale cheek. I wiped my eyes and looked around the room. Anything to avoid having to see her crying, otherwise I would cry too.
"I'm sorry Nichole," she said. "And I'm sorry to your mother. She is a good woman and I kept this from you two." Her voice was still thin and smooth.
Suddenly I wasn't sad anymore. I was angry.
"I'm going to find him," I said softly, surprising even myself. "I will save up and I will find him." The idea sounded stupider the more I said it. "You know where he lives, right?"
Medda looked reluctant. "Yes," she said, "but are you sure about this?"
I didn't have to think. I nodded, my jaw set and my face determined.
"Well then Nichole," Medda looked tired, "if there's anything I can do."
"There is," I paused a swallowed, frightened, "I need a job."
End Chapter
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Shoutouts:
andthenyouwokeup—wow. So Varsity is just like Senior team for us. Wow. And I hope your studying/SATs went well!
Mistywolf aka Perch—Tee hee, you're funny.
Pancakes—You might show up again. This is a kind of events as I go thing. Sorry I didn't IM you! I only have MSN.
JosiahGirl—I know. Length is a big problem for me. I think I have ADD because I can't pay attention for so long. I have to end the chapters so soon.
Gypsyruth—You're so nice to shower me in compliments like that! I'm just happy that you appreciate it!
C.M. Higgins—Yeah. The Jacobs' are often Jewish, so I thought Les should be, even if I've already written Sarah and David out if it.
Coin—That's good. Without your attention you probably wouldn't be reading this.
newsiefreak9er9er—Guess what? You just found out what happens next! Wow!
Hobbit1400—Thanks for reviewing! Sorry for not having read your fic, I haven't had enough time and it's long!
Lady of Tir Na Nog—I like how you used the word 'strife' in your review. It makes things seem so serious and grown up. Yes, I am a loser.