Chapter 2 – Distanced
Bailey sat on the floor near the edge of Faith's bed. It had been quite some time since Gavin had left. The girl had her head rested against her pillow as she watched Bailey. "I think your heart is hurting," Bailey suggested. She didn't want to upset the girl even more, but she had babysat for Gavin under similar conditions on several occasions. "Please talk to me," she encouraged the girl, brushing some loose hairs from her own face.
"You don't really care. You're just my babysitter," Faith fired back. It struck Bailey, offending her only slightly. In order to get through to the girl they were going to have to think in like terms.
"Well, if I'm nothing but your babysitter, then you shouldn't mind talking to me. It's my job to listen. I won't tell anyone else. I won't even tell Dad, not even if he begged me! It's in our contract."
Without technically voicing her acceptance, Faith sat up in bed. Her pillows were propped up against her back and she remained under her covers. As she recalled a recent event in her life, that one event faded into a collage of similar memories that represented a bigger picture in her mind. Lunch time, as usual, Faith at the back of the line, with the other girls ahead of her that way they could get served first.
They wore their hair in curls and had on cute dresses. Some of them wore makeup. Everything about them screamed feminine. They wore perfume and talked about girly things like their favorite male singers and how they couldn't wait until they got 'boobs', which some of them already stuffed their bras. It made Faith feel like she didn't belong. Instead, she enjoyed talking about UFC fights and semis. She should've been a boy. That's who she hung out with and felt most comfortable around. The girls called her lesbian, which meant to them you wanted to be a boy so you could like girls. But Faith actually hated girls. They were mean. She couldn't see why anyone would want to be a girl.
"The important thing is to know that it's okay to be different. Those girls are just mean to you because they don't understand you or how you've grown up, but that doesn't mean there is anything wrong with you," Bailey assured her.
Faith closed her eyes and bowed her head forward. "Then why does it feel wrong? Why do I feel so sad?"
"This sort of thing happens to more people than you think. You're not alone," Bailey was trying to comfort her while making sense of it. She wanted to instill in her a sense of connection to the rest of the world without ruining her individuality.
"I know that…" she told Bailey. "But that doesn't make me feel better. I feel so empty." She then wept with all her sadness, all her being, right before Bailey.
Instantly Bailey shifted onto her knees and then to Faith's bedside to draw the girl into an embrace. "Let it all out," she cooed as she rocked the girl lightly back and forth. Now she felt awful for pulling the scab. Still, it was best to let her cry.
Keeping it bottled up didn't help. Bailey remembered crying for so long when her parents got divorced, she actually reached the point where she was physically unable to cry anymore. She remembered the dry burning sensation of her eyes that forced her to simply keep them shut. The soreness of her diaphragm that leads to a gradual silence after deep jerky breaths and the overall exhaustion that put her to sleep.
Bailey knew a bit of psychology from high school and read once that crying is the body's natural defense against stress. Waking up from such a state was like waking up in a dream. Everything was blurry, her head was light, but her mind was clear. She wished the same for Faith as the little girl wept in her arms. There was nothing else she could do but hold her. No amount of kind words could provide closure. Only her comforting presence could help lull Faith to sleep.
Gavin came back in the evening. Working local shortened his hours. As for Bailey, she had been getting ready for work about an hour before he got home. She wore a black knee-high skirt and a blue button-up blouse with the same felt high heels she wore yesterday. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and her makeup was done up lightly.
As she walked out of the bathroom with her duffle bag, she saw Gavin sitting at the dining room table. He had just gotten the mail and was flipping through it with his eyebrows pulled together. She simply set her bag down and went to the kitchen. From the fridge she pulled out some turkey, cheese, and bread to make him a quick lunch before she left. Faith had already eaten earlier once she had woken from her nap. Since it was so hot out, Bailey figured he wouldn't want anything too heavy. With a plate of food in one hand and his jug of water in the other, she moved into the dining room. As she set them down before him, he was folding a paper back up and replacing it in an envelope. The other letters had also been opened and sat on the table. He then pressed his hands against his temples.
"Is everything alright?" she asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He remained quiet and then looked up at her. If only she could read his thoughts. Instead, all she heard was the static of silence. He then began to eat the turkey sandwich she had brought him. She smiled and went back to her bag she had set on the floor. "I'm going to go to work now," she told him. "I'll text you on my break to see if you need anything." She began to walk towards the door, looking over her shoulder as she went. His eyes remained focused on the plate of food before him. He hadn't swallowed the bite he took yet.
Once work was over Bailey walked out to her car which was parked on the side of the road down from the boutique. Closing was easy since the shop hadn't received much business today. The sun was just beginning to set and the oranges and reds were soaking through the sky like water colors blended together on a canvas. She could've gone back to her apartment, but she couldn't stand how suffocating it felt anymore. Her parents didn't live too far from her either, but she wanted to check on Gavin and Faith for the night before she retreated back home.
With her vehicle on the side of the road she walked up the steps and onto the porch. Faith sat on the swing in a red t-shirt and jean shorts, as well as an old pair of Converse shoes. She didn't react to Bailey's presence, not even after she told her hello.
Regardless, Bailey moved closer to her and gave her a hug. She then moved into the house sensing the girl's desire to be alone. She checked downstairs for Gavin, but he was nowhere to be seen. Next, she knocked lightly on the door at the top of the stairs before opening it slowly. He wore a pair of blue boxers and a black tank top as he ironed the wrinkles out of a black button-up. An alarm clock radio was on beside his bed. She waved awkwardly to him in the doorway as the beginning of a rock song started playing. "Are you alright?" she asked.
He shook his head up and down. A five o' clock shadow was spreading over his jaw and he appeared more stressed than usual. His dark roots were noticeable today as well. He placed the iron down and then picked up the shirt to put it back on the hanger. He had already ironed out a pair of black dress pants as well. "I have a visitation to go to tomorrow at nine. I'd rather not have Faith know about it," he told her. His black eyes glanced her way as he hung the items up in his closet.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you need me?"
"No. That isn't necessary. Your services are no longer required here," he shook his head from side to side.
He could see the disappointed look on her face along with the hurt expression. Her heart began to beat frantically. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Don't!" he shouted at her. The tone in his voice had changed to a hostile one. "I don't want to complicate things!"
Bailey was fighting back tears. "Believe me. I don't want to complicate things for you..." She said, looking down at her hands. "I want to make them easier."
He went to the ironing board and folded it up. Once it was folded, he put it in his closet. She continued to stand there quietly. The scent of his cologne wavered in the air. He then placed a hand on his hip and the other against his forehead as he leaned against his wall. "Whatever you've been through, don't misplace your emotions here. If you had issues, go home and work them out. This has absolutely nothing to do with you. Do you understand?"
She remained stationary. She really didn't want to see another child suffer the effects of single parent living, but that didn't mean she didn't have feelings for them. "I sincerely care about Faith and you," she told him. Each word was entirely separate from the other.
"Leave," His eyes were slightly bloodshot. "I blame myself for all of this."
She moved over the carpeted floor until she was out of his room completely. She could hear the door slam behind her as she went downstairs, but she merely kept looking straight forward. It was wrong to force feed help to someone who didn't want it. Gavin was too prideful, too stubborn, and too caught up in the past to mentally to move on. For whatever reason, he was stuck on his current path; literally driving, moving, drinking, trying to keep the past behind him, yet unable to stop looking in his rearview mirror.
Worst of all he wanted her to just look away, as if shielding her from the sight of a horrific car accident waiting to happen. He'd been driving for so long down the roads that he himself constructed. Every time Bailey drove that's what she thought about. In this town, many roads had been rebuilt. She saw him haul asphalt and rock with the dump truck and other such trailers. He had the power to mend roads, repair them, and make them better. He kept at it constantly, but he couldn't repair what was broken within himself.
As she moved out of the house, she saw Faith still sitting on the porch swing. It was getting dark out, fast, and the sun had disappeared.
"Bye," the emptiness in Faith's words made Bailey shudder, as if the little girl had seen it coming before her. The darkness of solitude complimented the night. Her whole body felt frozen to the core and she continued on her way to her car. Once she was in her vehicle with the door closed, she brought her hand to her mouth and wept in silence. How could anyone live this way? Her shaking hand reached for the ignition and she turned it until she could hear the engine turn over. She looked back at the porch which was now empty and at once everything felt painfully real. Coming here had meant so much to her. She was more hurt than she was angry.
Once she was in her apartment, she carried her duffle bag inside. It was time to clean out the dirty clothes and replace them with clean ones before she left again. The small apartment was slightly messy. Dinner had been left out and the heavy scent of tacos filled the air. Macy and Scott were sitting huddled up together watching some sappy movie, or at least that's what Bailey assumed. The walls were barren, but an overload of trinkets and decorations existed on the kitchen counter and table. The cabinets were made of some sort of dark wood. Some of the handles were loose and barely hung in place. The kitchen and dining room were open and covered in white tiles.
As for the living room, a small door lead into it. It had a blue shag carpet. The furniture was nothing fancy, just affordable and worn. She tried to hurry past before they had time to notice her, but unfortunately Charlotte caught her just before she could enter her room down the hall.
"Hey Bailey where have you been lately? It's getting lonely without you…" Charlotte rubbed her arm. This signaled how uncomfortable she was and Bailey really did feel sorry for her. Charlotte's hair was short, dark brown, and curly. It came to her shoulders which were slightly hunched. Her body was tall and lanky. She was slender and had a small chest. Anyone would have assumed her to be a dancer or performer, or perhaps an athlete.
"She's been out giving head!" Macy joked from the living room. The movie was quiet and had obviously been paused.
Bailey rolled her eyes and proceeded to her room with her bag still over her shoulder. She flipped the light switch near the entrance on her way in. Charlotte followed her into her room and sat on her bed. Unknowingly both girls had the same thought. Why was Bailey paying for an apartment she barely stayed in anymore? Bailey saw Charlotte looking around as she emptied her clothes into her hamper.
"How is James?" Bailey asked about a man she had heard Charlotte speak of maybe once or twice.
"We don't talk anymore." Charlotte replied awkwardly. "I'm sorry… Am I bothering you?" she asked timidly.
"No." Bailey slid open the door to her closet and began to pull clothes from her hangers. As she was doing so Macy and Scott walked past holding hands.
"Don't forget your lingerie, Pretty Woman, it's part of your job now." Macy jeered. Bailey had only caught a brief glance at her, seeing only the flash of her blond hair when she darted past.
Bailey bit her lip for a moment with tears in her eyes. She paused her packing and looked up at her ceiling. "I'm moving out next week!" she shouted, causing Charlotte to jump. She had surprised herself actually.
"Good! And when that drunk gives you a STD or gets you pregnant, go back to mommy and daddy!" Macy shouted back.
Charlotte, who had grown uncomfortable, removed herself from Bailey's bed and moved to the doorway. "Where are you going to go?" she asked.
"Anywhere else," Bailey told her, trying to hold back her tears.
Charlotte hung in the doorway watching Bailey pack. A long black dresser with seven drawers was pressed into the corner adjacent to the wall, which her sliding door closet was next to. Her bed was opposite that wall facing the door. "You look nice, very professional," Charlotte's eyes moved back to Bailey, commenting on her work attire.
"Thanks," Bailey smiled back at Charlotte.
Back at her parent's house, Bailey stood with her bag in her hand. The warm glow of the house radiated into the night from the windows and tears welled in her eyes. It was a warm night with a soothing breeze. An ocean of trees swayed before the street lamps. She pace walked to the front door over the gravel drive and expected to swing it open at her pull, but instead it was locked.
She rang the doorbell like a stranger and this made her cry even more. Shortly after, the door opened and her father greeted her with open arms. His hair was grey. He was balding, and he had wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He wore black pajamas with a dark green robe. "Let me go wake your mother," he told her and took her bag from her hand.
"Just let her sleep, dad," Bailey told him. He ignored her and carried her bag through the living room and upstairs to the guest room, which used to be Bailey's. It was right down the hall from her parent's room, which currently only her mother slept in. Her father resided in the basement. They were still divorced, but were trying to patch things up. Bailey was still in her work outfit, but she slipped off her heels and sat on her old bed with her legs crossed and her hands resting idly in her lap. She couldn't focus on anything other than her thoughts for the moment. The blanket beneath her was fuzzy and warm. It reminded her of childhood sleepovers, cookouts, and a wave of regression overwhelmed her.
Finally, her mother walked into the room. She had short curly brown hair with few silver strands showing through. She was in her pajamas and matching blue house slippers. She wore thick glasses and had a soothing voice. "Tell me what's wrong." She grabbed a black rolling chair from the empty desk behind her and scooted it towards the edge of the bed where she took a seat. She then placed a warm hand on her daughter's shin and encouraged her to confide in her.
"I don't feel comfortable there anymore," Bailey made a long story short.
Her mother stared down at the wooden floors as she thought deeply. "Can I ask why?"
"Macy's boyfriend moved in and when he is around Macy acts like a completely different person. The two of them call me a prostitute, and it's really disrespectful and childish, especially since I'm babysitting Faith for Gavin." She gave her mom a serious look.
Her mother squinted her eyes together and placed her hand under her chin, "Gavin?"
"His wife passed away a long time ago and he has a little a girl named Faith. Since he works a lot, I usually babysit for him. That's it." Bailey told her mother frankly. "He's a truck driver. He hauls local and other times long distance so I spend some nights there until he comes back."
Her mother didn't want to tell her at the moment just how much she disapproved of such a thing because she didn't want to push her daughter away again. It was Bailey's first night back and she didn't want to start things off on the wrong foot. Instead, she asked, "Did you try to explain that to Macy?" Bailey fell quiet for a moment as she recalled an attempt at relaying her situation to Macy.
It was after four nights of babysitting for Gavin in the blue house and Macy was peeved that Bailey hadn't been around to help her with the apartment. "Don't think your rent will be any less just because you've been gone." She asserted.
This angered Bailey quite a bit. So, she replied, "I pull my weight around here just like the rest of you."
"Where have you been all these nights anyway? Gavin's? Babysitting?" Macy had an incredulous look on her face. Doubt coated her voice. Bailey nodded her head with her brows pulled together. "I just find it a little odd that a widowed man would ask a young girl to babysit for him so often. That isn't normal. Doesn't he have any family?"
Bailey's mouth had begun to open unnoticeably with shock at the accusations. She didn't owe Macy any explanations. It wasn't any of her business. "I can NOT believe you right now."
Macy shook her head from side to side, "I can't believe you either," she said.
As Bailey finished, her mother took her glasses off and wiped them on her pajama shirt. "Well honey, you can stay here for as long as you'd like. I know you have a good heart and a good head on your shoulders. I trust you and if that's all there is to it, then who cares what others think? Your father and I can help you move back in in a couple of days and while you are here, you can save your money for college."
The smell of coffee woke Faith before Gavin even came into her room to wake her for school. It was a gloomy day filled with clouds as she looked out of her window. Luckily it wasn't raining yet. She moved out of her bed, over her carpets, and to her closet to get ready for school. Once she was dressed in a large hooded sweat shirt and a pair of jeans, she headed out of her room to go brush her teeth. "Daddy?" She knocked on the door.
"I'm smoking," he replied.
"I need to brush my teeth," she said. Shortly after, she heard the vent come on. Gavin then crept out. He wore a black button-up and pants with a red tie. From his nose a trail of thick smoke diffused through the air like a drifting spider web. His hair was almost snow white, and all traces of his five o'clock shadow had vanished. "Where are you going?" she asked him.
"Don't worry about it, kid." he told her with the last of the silk smoke escaping his lips. He messed up her black hair.
Luckily, she hadn't brushed it yet. She watched from the bathroom door way as he moved over to the dining room table to grab his coffee. It was nearly as black as his eyes. He took a couple sips, set it down, and then proceeded to fold his sleeves up neatly just below his elbow. Just the sight of him was unsettling. His dark eyes appeared even heavier with his hair so lightened or perhaps the fact that he wore so much black.
"Is something wrong?" She tilted her head with concern.
He turned in surprise that she had been standing there watching him the whole time. "Get ready for fucking school or you're going to be late!" His deep voice bellowed with authority. She simply closed the door behind her. Maybe it was just the fact that he was dressed up at all that made her feel like something was wrong. She had grown so accustomed to seeing him in stained, ripped jeans and simple colored t-shirts.
The grey pickup truck moved slowly into the parking lot. As soon as the engine was turned off, he got a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and proceeded to have a smoke before heading into the church. He placed his elbow against the side of the door and placed his head in his hand as he looked at his reflection on the driver side mirror. He didn't enjoy being inside churches because they reminded him of how much moral fiber he lacked. He had abandoned all religious beliefs quite some time ago, along with any false conceptions of predetermined life events. To him, destiny was just something that humans clung to in order to find comfort towards unpredictable challenges.
Once, a Jehovah's witness came knocking on his door and tried to tell him that God had a plan for him. He told the man, "Yup, see you in Hell," and he shut the door just as quickly as he had opened it. Life doesn't have a set course. Life doesn't have a plan. It just happens, free will as both its result and cause. Philosophers try to explain it while scientists try to predict it, but fate doesn't exist, so Gavin found it necessary to take matters into his own hands and carve his own path. He even hid his inheritance to assert control on his life. He was still looking at his near white, bleached hair.
He then opened the driver's side door and flicked his cigarette away. As soon as the bottom of his shoes met the pavement however, he drew in a deep breath of air. Instantly all the mental preparation he had done for this event was becoming useless. Every step he took towards the entrance brought him another step closer to an uncomfortable mindset.
Several individuals were looking at him while others had their back turned, lined to enter the building. The windows were stained glass, thin, yet tall. The church was built with tan thick bricks and he took his place in line behind a little boy. The child was dressed in black and had a sullen expression on his face as he looked over his shoulder at Gavin. Gavin stood erect with his hands folded together at his waist.
To entertain his mind, he became engaged in thought to pass the time. Faith was doing well. She faced issues any girl would face in school. Gavin wasn't worried about her though. When the time came, if the time came, he knew that despite how fragile everyone thought Faith was she would be able to handle herself. She was tough and stubborn just like him.
Once, when Faith was just six years old, she had been taking a bubble bath. Gavin sat on the lid of the toilet in their old house, reading a newspaper while smoking a cigarette. He had on his Timberland work boots, a pair of ripped jeans, and an old red t-shirt. "Daddy, if kids are mean to me at school would you tell them to stop?" she had asked him.
He set the newspaper aside upon the sink, with his boots planted firmly against the floor. "Fuck no," he told her matter-of-factly with one dark brow raised and smoke coming out of his mouth.
Her face wrinkled up into despair and her bottom lip quivered. Her emerald eyes shimmered with moisture and he added, "You're strong like your daddy and all you need is yourself. If anyone messes with you, you'll know what to do when the time is right." Gavin knew that she could stick up for herself. He was waiting for the day when he would be called into the principal's office or receive a note from the school saying she was in trouble for fighting, but it hadn't happened yet.
He knew she faced the cruelties of peer pressure and bullying, but he couldn't pick her friends. He couldn't pick her fights. She had to make mistakes in order to learn from them. Besides, he didn't have time to be the kind of parent who went to school to speak with the principal every time there was a childish dispute. He provided her with all she asked for, which wasn't much. All this time he was worried she would start wearing makeup or more feminine clothing since she was getting older, but she picked out her own clothing when it came to school shopping, and he assumed she was more comfortable in jeans and t-shirts.
For what they were dealt, he felt he was fairing pretty well as a father. He gave her plenty of room to grow into her own person. He never told her how to dress, how to talk, or how to act. He feared doing such things would push her away from him. Instead, she was always quiet and reserved. It baffled him that the reigns were so loose, yet she behaved so well. He was surprised she didn't take after him and cuss like a trucker. There were many things he didn't understand about his own daughter. She often seemed like she was in another world. She was always contemplating and he left her alone on the porch to think to herself most of the time. He didn't often dwell on his regrets, he simply repressed them, but there were many things he wished he could go back and do differently as a father.
It was later in the evening and Bailey had called into work that day claiming she was too ill, and physically she felt that way. She walked around in her black sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt with her mom's house slippers. The clouds had finally given way and released their precipitation upon the earth and the only defense against it was hot chocolate and a blanket. She sat in her father's recliner in the silence and watched the weather out the window. Currently her father was at work while her mother was in the basement getting a load of laundry. She brought it up the stairs and sat down on the couch with the basket in front of her.
"So, how is the clothing store anyway?" her mother asked.
"I'm pretty sure it's getting ready to go out of business soon." She frowned and took a sip of her hot chocolate. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and her eyes were puffy.
Her mother looked up at her. "I'm sorry dear."
"I love you mom," she said suddenly.
"I love you too," her mother tilted her head with concern, not expecting the statement.
"I appreciate everything you have done and will ever do for me." Bailey set her glass down and went over to the couch to help her mother with the laundry. "Some children don't have their mothers…" her heart was still heavy with Faith weighing down upon her chest.
Her mother simply frowned and patted her on the back. "Your father did most of the work. Andy did a great job raising you. He was more of a mother to you than I ever was." She admitted the truth. "And for that, I'm sorry I left." Silence ensued for a short while. Bailey was blessed enough that she did decide to return. Her mother then asked, "Do you know what happened to Gavin's wife?" Bailey shook her head from side to side and it was left at that.
Together they worked on the laundry, folding towels and rags and setting them down on the coffee table for about half an hour. Once that was finished, Bailey was the one to take them to the closet in the upstairs bathroom. When she came back down, she paused at the end of the stairs to see her mother giving her father a hug. He had obviously just come home from work and had his black rain coat on. Despite how drenched he was, her mother's arms were wrapped around him. Her face was hidden upon his chest and his arm was drawn around her, lovingly, forgivingly, a sight that Faith would never see. At this, Bailey went back to her room to weep for the girl.
The light was dim since the clouds were hiding the fading sun. There was a TV on a bookshelf in front of her bed, but she didn't care for anything it had to offer. Again, a debate was raging as she repeated four letters in her mind: D-C-F-S. She also reminded herself of the other four-letter word, LOVE, that resided deep within Gavin and Faith for one another. It was buried deep beneath his addictions and redirected in the girl's imagination. Bailey sighed in frustration. She couldn't bring herself to simply look away. Suddenly she heard her phone vibrating in the silence. She scrambled to her duffle bag and answered as soon as possible since she saw it was Gavin's number on the caller ID. She was expecting his gruff voice to answer, but instead it was Faith sounding frantic.
"Bailey!" Faith sobbed. "Please get here. My dad is sick and I don't know what to do." The little girl sobbed. "He's bleeding!"
Bailey could barely make sense of what the little girl was saying, but she replied instantly, "Faith, I'll be there as soon as possible. Stop crying, ok? Five minutes! Be strong!" Bailey jumped up, flew down the stairs, and slid her shoes on at the front door. Her mother was hanging her father's rain coat on the rack as he sat in his recliner. "Honey?" Her mother asked as Bailey swung the door open.
"No time mom! I'll explain later!" "Drive safe!" Her mother yelled after her.