Love You to Death Page 4

  “I appreciate your concern. I’ll call you if I need anything,” I chirped sarcastically.

  He surprised me by laughing. I caught the word “spunky” as he unlocked the cell door. It swung open with a squeal of protest.

  “Let’s go five-finger-Franny,” he wiggled his fingers, directing me toward him.

  I just sat there. Was he joking? I gave him a hard look. He seemed serious enough. I wondered if it was a trick. I’d heard about this sort of thing, cops raping girls in jail. I’d do my best to fight him, but he outweighed me by at least sixty pounds.

  “Quit looking at me like I’m Ted Bundy,” he snapped. “You wanna stay here? You wanna end up being charged and sent to jail for stealing a pack of socks for $5.99? Be my guest, sweetheart.” He stepped back, getting ready to close the door.

  “Wait!” I flew off the thin mattress. He paused, holding the door halfway open. “I don’t wanna stay here.”

  “I didn’t think so.” He smiled, opening the door again.

  “But I don’t wanna owe you either,” I said, looking down at his shoes. They looked expensive.

  “Then we are at what is referred to as an impasse.” He sighed.

  I thought about that for a minute. I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but I was sure it wasn’t in my favor.

  “What do you want?” I asked, afraid of his answer.

  He didn’t answer me right away. After a couple minutes passed, and I quickly assumed he was going to slam the door in my face, he spoke.

  “What do I want? Hmmm. What does anyone really want, Arden?” His voice was soft. I thought he was making fun of me. I looked up, ready to defend my question.

  “I don’t know,” I lied. I knew what most people wanted. The people I knew anyway. They wanted to be safe. They wanted to be loved. They wanted to matter.

  “I wanna help you. You got a bad break, babe, with no options to fall back on. That’s tough.” He casually leaned against the wall.

  I slowly lifted my shoulders and let them fall. Lots of people had no options.

  “Okay, here’s what I did... I returned the socks. The owner was pretty decent. I talked him outta pressing charges, restitution and all.” He waved a hand nonchalantly. “I’m willing to make this all go away.”

  “Why?” I asked. “What’s in it for you?”

  “So cynical for one so young.” He shook his head. “Can’t I be doing it out of the goodness of my heart?”

  “Yeah, maybe, but I doubt it,” I said, pinning him with my stare.

  He didn’t seem to like my answer. Too bad, I wasn’t in the mood to pump up his ego.

  “If I admit to ulterior motives, will you admit to not hating me as much as you pretend to?” he asked, pushing himself off the cinder block wall.

  Why was it so important to him that I like him? I scratched my furrowed brow. I couldn’t come up with anything. I glanced down at my feet, wishing for the hundredth time I had new sneakers. My beat-up Sketchers were worn thin. That’s why I stole the socks. I figured if I wore two pair at a time the holes in my shoes wouldn’t matter as much.

  “Wow, that hard, huh?” He spoke quietly, like I’d hurt his feelings. What a crock. I raised my doubtful eyes to give him a ‘gimme a break’ look.

  “If you can’t do the time, you shouldn’t do the crime,” he quoted.

  “Yeah, right, like the punishment fits the crime here. Ninety days in jail for a six dollar pack of socks,” I quipped.

  I must’ve caught him off guard, because he blinked a few times before he said anything.

  “Never thought of it that way. You got a lot of smarts for a sk—” I glared at his almost word. “—for a kid.”

  “I’m not a kid, according to the legal system, a week before turning eighteen counts as an adult.”

  “Alright, Perry Mason... I swear... the mouth on you...” He chuckled.

  “Who’s Perry Mason?”

  He rolled his pretty blue eyes and snorted. “You never heard of Perry Mason, the greatest TV lawyer in the world?”

  “Guess it was before my time,” I said. “You must be older than you look.” I liked getting a dig in about his age since he seemed so keen about harping on mine. I expected him to not like it. He didn’t. He reached into the cell, grabbing me by the arm.

  “Let’s go Punky Brewster,” he growled.

  “Who?”

  “You’re killing me, kid.”

  “Whatever, Pops.”

  He tightened his grip, pinching my arm. I gave it a jerk, but he hung on. He kept his tight hold on me until we reached the checkout desk. I signed for my backpack. The old guy behind the desk had hair sprouting out of every orifice. He ogled me and gave a lascivious wink to Cass before getting my pack.

  “Nice guy,” I said.

  “Martin? He’s okay, just a little on the hound dog side.”

  “Gee, I couldn’t tell.”

  Officer Martin—the perv—brought me my pack. I didn’t bother thanking him. Cass led me outside. The sun was setting, casting a golden light over the city. I shivered as a cool gust of air slipped under the collar of my shirt and down my neck. Cass tilted his head and gave me a quick look. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I fought myself for a long second before giving in and mumbling, “Thanks.”

  He was parked a block down from the precinct. When I saw the car I took off the jacket, handed it back to him, and slung my pack over my shoulders. I kept on walking.

  “Back to the shelter?” he called after me.

  “Yep.” I turned around to face him but kept on walking.

  “Why? There’s nothing there for you. I don’t get it.” The perplexed look he gave convinced me he was telling the truth.

  “Stewie,” I said, as if he should know.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He put a hand on his hip. “What is it with you two?”

  I heard the insinuation in his tone. Why did all men think every relationship worth having had to have sex in it? I sent him my best f-you stare and turned back around. I hugged my arms tightly around my stomach and tucked my chin into my chest to ward off the chilly night air. The threadbare socks I wore, inside the holey shoes, were like wearing flip flops out here. My toes were ice cold.

  I never looked back to see if Cass was following me, but I sensed that he was. I thought about him as I picked up my pace. He was a conundrum. His behavior was inconsistent. Badass one minute, comforting the next. Although my first instinct was to stay far off his radar, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was about him that kept drawing me out.

  * * * *

  Stewie was sitting on the steps with a group of kids when I arrived. They were huddled together playing cards under the street light that suddenly blinked on.

  “Cherry!” He hollered when he saw me. He broke away from the kids and shuffled over to me. He reached down and picked me up in a big bear hug. I hugged him back. I loved Stewie. I really did. He was the only family I had.

  “Okay, big boy, you’re squeezing my guts out.” I faked throwing up. He giggled and put me down.

  “Where were you, Cherry?” His hazel eyes rounded with concern. “I was so scared. I looked everywhere for you.” Spit gathered in the corners of his mouth. I ignored it.

  “I got caught taking a bag of socks, buddy.” I shrugged. I wanted him to think it was no big deal. When Stewie thought of the cops he kinda got a little freaked out. I guess because of Cass.

  “You got arrested?” He gasped and started shaking.

  “Easy, Stewie, I’m alright. They let me go with a warning.” I didn’t tell him who in particular though.

  “They did? Wow. I was scared, Cherry. Don’t do that again,” he scolded. It was cute the way he said it, with his best adult voice. The warning still came out sounding childlike.

  “Did you eat?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “It was spaghetti night.” He nodded. That explained the faint red splotches on his chin.

  “Thi
nk there’s any left?” I was starving.

  “I dunno. Let’s go look.” He grabbed my hand. “No garlic bread though, this ain’t no restaurant.”

  I smiled. Box of Rocks must’ve been serving tonight. Box was one of the homeless guys that used to work in a restaurant in Little Italy. He liked to bust our chops, especially Stewie. But he had about as much common sense as a box of rocks, hence the nickname.

  “That’s okay. I don’t want garlic breath.” Stewie found this very amusing. He laughed loudly and covered his mouth with his hand in that childlike way he had.

  Chapter Five

  October 31st is Halloween. It’s also my birthday. For as long as I can remember, my mom would always bake a cake shaped like a jack-o-lantern. When I was little, she’d throw a trick or treat party for me. All my friends would come over for cake and ice cream, and then we’d go begging for candy.

  My last birthday wasn’t so happy. My dad had stopped by, drunk as usual, and started a fight. He ended up hitting her while I called 911. After the cops hauled him away, kicking and screaming, she put two candles on my cake, the chunky kind, a one and a seven. “Make a wish, baby...” She tried to smile with a cracked lip. I cried as I blew out the candles.

  This year I didn’t expect much. I was turning eighteen, supposedly a magical age. Most kids my age were taking their SAT’s and prepping for college. They were dreaming of prom nights and graduation parties, while I struggled to keep myself safe and warm. I told myself I wasn’t missing anything.

  I was more than a little surprised when Miss Vinnie showed up at the shelter on her day off and presented me with a store-bought cake with candy corn sprinkled over the top. She bought the chunky candles, like my mom. She and Stewie sang happy birthday, and then Miss Vinnie said, “Make a wish, baby girl.”

  I blew out the candles, wiping the sleeve of my shirt across my wet eyes.

  “Can I have a corner piece?” Stewie asked.

  “You sure can, sweet face,” Miss Vinnie cut into the cake, giving him a large corner.

  We were sitting at one of the long lunch tables, across the room from the front entrance. I was laughing at Stewie picking at the candy corn. He thought they were real vegetables and wanted nothing to do with them, no matter how much Miss Vinnie tried to explain. It felt so good to laugh. I threw my head back and let the sound float around me.

  Then I saw him. He stood just inside the entrance. In one hand was a large gift bag decorated with the Peanuts gang dressed for Halloween. Tufts of orange and white tissue paper poked out of the top. He had an odd look on his face, a strange mix of awe and yearning. He crossed the worn linoleum slowly, glancing at Stewie.

  Stewie noticed when my laughter died and looked at me, questioningly, then followed my gaze to the doorway to watch Cass making his way toward us. Stewie’s eyes bugged out, his lower lip quivered. A quiet keening noise started in the back of his throat.

  “It’s okay, Stewie. He’s not here to hurt you. I’ll make him go away, okay?” I took his face between my hands and forced him to look at me. It took a minute for him to focus. I repeated my assurance to him, and this time he gave me a tentative smile and went back to eating his cake.

  In two angry strides I was in front of Cass, latching onto his arm, and pulling him out the door.

  “What do you think you’re doing here?” I hissed when we were outside. The polite smile he’d had when he saw me melted into a fierce scowl. He held up the bag and gave it a little shake.

  “I came to wish you a happy birthday,” he snapped, lowering the bag.

  “Did it ever occur to you that seeing you would send Stewie into hyperactivity?”

  “How was I to know? I assumed he’d be fine, since he was with you.”

  It sounded plausible, but when I thought of Stewie and how he just lost it in there when he’d seen Cass...

  “Well, you know what they say about assuming,” I said smugly, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I know you can’t help being a smart mouth. But the least you can do is use the manners I’m sure your mother taught you and open the gift.” He shoved the bag at me.

  I winced at the mention of my mom. He always did that to me. Made me feel bad about the way I talked to him, or treated him, even if he deserved it. I took the bag from him. Whatever it was, I would give it to Miss Vinnie.

  I removed the tissue paper and pulled out a box wrapped in pretty pink foil paper with a darker pink sparkling bow. I looked at Cass, who was, by now, grinning like the village idiot. I ripped off the paper and gasped. I looked at Cass, my mouth hanging open. He’d bought me a new pair of sneakers.

  They were another pair of Sketchers, my favorite. Before I could catch myself, I flung my arms around his neck. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around my waist, hugging me back. He shook with laughter. Embarrassed, I let go to inspect the shoes.

  “If I’d known you’d react this way, I’d have bought you a pair every time I saw you,” he said, still laughing.

  I dropped to sit on the cement steps, pulling my old sneakers off.

  “Whoa, there is something else in there too,” he said, digging in the bag. I didn’t care what else was in there, until I watched him pull out a pack of socks. The same kind I’d stolen. He handed them to me like they were Cinderella’s glass slipper.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the socks and tearing open the bag. I could feel his eyes on me. Shifting uncomfortably, I continued dressing my feet.

  “You’re blushing,” he said quietly, as if he couldn’t believe it. “You are so beautiful, Arden.”

  With that one comment I realized that the precious gift of warm feet was not mine to keep. I stripped off the socks and shoved them into the shoes, placing them back in the box.

  “I can’t accept them,” I said. I wanted them so much it hurt. But I knew if I took them, if I accepted the gift, that one day he would expect something in return. And I already owed him.

  “What? Why not?” He looked angry then hurt. He refused to take the bag I was holding out to him. I was standing there in my bare feet, crying on the inside, pining for a lousy pair of shoes.

  “Because they’re too much... I hardly know you. It wouldn’t be right,” I explained, gathering up my old socks and shoes.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Arden,” he scoffed. “We’re friends. I bought these for you. You’re going to need them.” He pushed the bag at me.

  “And what do you want?”

  “I don’t want anything.” He gritted his teeth. I could tell he was trying not to yell.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I mimicked him. “Everybody expects something in return for something.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. I waited for him to tell me how silly I was being. But he didn’t say anything. He just stood there with his full lips pursed in agitation, staring at me.

  There was nothing like a good dose of reality to ruin a perfectly happy moment.

  “That’s what I thought,” I muttered, turning to leave. His hand on my shoulder stopped me.

  “Arden, I’m not asking for anything you aren’t willing to give.” He paused when I arched my brows high in disbelief. “What I mean is I don’t want anything from you that you aren’t ready to share. I want to be your friend. I don’t know about you, but I could always use another friend.”

  That tug-of-war inside me started up again. I wanted to trust him. I had so little in this life worth believing in that I was ready to latch onto anything remotely convincing. Cass’s look of genuine goodwill did me in. Ignoring the voice screaming from the background of my conscience, I nodded at him.

  “Want some cake?” I asked climbing the steps.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he said, flashing me his pearly whites.

  Chapter Six

  The holidays were fast approaching. Thanksgiving was right around the corner. This would be my first year of turkey and stuffing without my mom. I tried not to think on it too much, but the more I fo
ught the memories, the more I thought about what would be missing this year.

  Miss Vinnie was being extra attentive to me. I suspect she knew what was rolling around in my head.

  “Why don’t you come to my house for Thanksgiving?” she asked me one day while we were in the shelter’s large kitchen. She was teaching me how to make homemade chicken noodle soup. Volunteers weren’t supposed to mix with the homeless people, but Miss Vinnie seemed to do whatever she wanted.

  “I can’t leave Stewie alone,” I said. She smiled that knowing smile only mothers can invoke.

  “Honey, don’t you think I know that? My invitation is for him too.” She handed me a bag of egg noodles and nodded for me to add them to the pot.

  “I don’t know...I don’t wanna get you in trouble or anything.” I stirred the noodles into the soup, sending her a doubtful look.

  “You let me worry about me. I’ll set two extra places. You think about it, okay?” She patted my shoulder, and said, “Needs more salt.”

  I watched her waddle away, thinking how lucky I was to have her. My mom’s sweet voice cut in, “Luck? No such thing. God hasn’t forgotten you. He sent her to you.”

  It never ceased to amaze me how clear I remember her voice. It was times like this that I could close my eyes and actually see her, in a three dimensional sense. An ache began to build in my chest. It climbed into my throat and ate around the tissue like acid. I held my breath and counted to ten, waiting for the tears to fade.

  “Cherry!” Stewie’s excited shout interrupted my weak moment. “Cherry! Come see what Cass got me!”

  Cass had been coming around a lot since my birthday. He had won over Stewie, which was not an easy task, given their history. At first, Stewie wouldn’t go anywhere near him. But Cass didn’t give up. He brought little presents that Stewie couldn’t pass up. Like packs of gum, bags of candy, and boxes of snappers, those little bags of fireworks that you threw on the ground and they popped. He loved those. But the coup de grâce was a Batman toy gun that shot Styrofoam bullets. Stewie was hooked after that. Cass was his new BFF.