I could’ve spent an hour or maybe a few
standing there. All I know is I stood there until the rain stopped. I liked
annoying the cops but today, I was thankful. That man could’ve hurt Ella more.
My fingers twitched. Was my former friend trying to protect me? People only did
things like that if they cared and he didn’t. But it didn’t matter now because
I had Ella. My sunshine. She was the first person to truly love me. Her mother
looked up at me. The pitter patter of rain had ended long ago. The restraunt and
shops and shut down their lights hours ago. The music stopped. Everything was
still and silent. Her eyes were red and swollen. She blew her nose in the hem
of her shirt. Ella had fallen asleep in her lap. She stroked her hair.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Those barely audible words rung like a chime
in my chest. As if an ancient pact had been invoked, I held out my hand.
Instead of taking it, she gently shook Ella awake. Ella blinked like a cat and
her mother looped her arms around her and stood up. Ella pressed into her
mother’s side.
“Cold,” she protested.
“I know sweetie. Come on, get up.”
“I know what it’s like to have a father like
that. It’ll get better,” I said. It sounded like the right thing to say. I
never knew why people said that, it was a load of bullshit. Things never really
get better. People just forget or ignore it. They stuff it so deep down inside
them that they stop caring while the memories crawl around inside their skin.
“It’s late. Come stay with us for the night,”
Chantel said.
What if I was a murderer? She shouldn’t invite
strange men into her home. Her rubbed her arms from the chill and her sleeves
went up. I glimpsed the disgusting purple-blue bruise that covered the top half
of her arm. Luckily, Ella was wearing short sleeves. I couldn’t see any visible
harm on her. Maybe inviting strangers to her home was safer than people she
knew. I smiled. I guessed we had that in common. After all, family caused the
most damage, but strangers were safe.
“Thank you,” I said.
Their house was only a few blocks away from
here. A little grey house with a broken pathway and hanging plants. It would be
cute if we painted it a different color. Maybe yellow. The inside of the house
was tiny. One bedroom, a kitchen covered in ugly ass wood paneling, and a
living room which consisted of a worn-down couch and a television that had to
be older than me. I sat down on the couch and a spring popped out. Ella’s
mother handed me a glass of water.
“Thank you um…” I didn’t know what to call
her. I doubted she wanted to be called Mrs. Waters. Chantel seemed too
familiar. It was times like this I wish I listened to my mother about
respecting people. I wonder what my mother would say if I adopted Ella. She
would probably tell me I should marry a proper woman instead of one burdened
with a child.
“Chantel,” she supplied.
She handed me a blanket that smelled like cat
vomit and a flat pillow. I think I thanked her. Ella had already gone to sleep.
The clock in the kitchen displayed midnight. It was a new day.
“For the first time this house is silent,”
Chantel whispered.