Link: Lost Faith Title Page and Description

CAUTION - emotional pain/open emotional wounds

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Awaking slowly in a dark room, his mind was groggy and dull. The satin pillow and distinctive sweet smell that screamed 'girl' told him he wasn't in his room at the Stone's house. That room still stank of teenage boy from its occupant before he'd taken it. Unable to remember where he was, he had a vague notion of going to sleep in someone else's bed and there being a storm. He reasoned that he must have sneaked into April's bedroom last night like he'd done a few times after his mother's hospitalization when he'd been especially scared. April would soothe away his fears and he would sleep on her floor, returning to his own room in the early morning. That's when he remembered he was in a bed and noticed he wasn't sleeping alone.

He felt a girl he assumed to be April snuggled up tightly behind him. He could tell it was a girl from the scent of her and the wonderfully gentle touch of her arm wrapped around his body, her delicate hand gripping the front of his nightgown. My nightgown? he started, finally awakening fully. Looking down and seeing it with his own eyes, Faith's hand gripping the front of the nightgown he wore, brought reality crashing down on him. His mother's death, the funeral, the tearful goodbye at LAX, his lost luggage, and lastly Faith insisting he wear her nightgown.

Afraid someone would see them sleeping so close and that it was bad, even though he couldn't explain why, he tried to scootch away from her. Her hand tightened its grip and she scooted even more tightly against his back, undoing all his progress. Seeing she would not be moved easily, and now feeling why he'd woken, he almost panicked. Reaching up with his hand, he started to pull her arm off of him when he heard her stir.

"Oh." Faith yawned as he tried to move away, snuggling up to him once more. "It's still dark out. Let's go back to sleep."

"Um, Faith?" he asked. "I have to use the bathroom!" he explained quietly.

"Huh? Oh! Sorry!" she said, releasing him.

Sliding out of bed, he quickly crossed the cold room into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Returning a few minutes later, after learning that he could not relieve himself while wearing a nightgown except by sitting, he almost ran back to the warmth of the bed. "It's freezing in here!"

Waiting until he was fully settled back in bed, Faith scooted up close once more and spooned against his back, her arm slipping around his waist and gripping the top of his borrowed nightgown. "G'night, Eric." she yawned.

"Um, Faith?" he inquired to see if she was still awake. Hearing her acknowledge him wordlessly with a hum, he turned his head toward the ceiling so she could hear him more easily. "Y-you should go back to your side of the bed. If your mom saw us sleeping like this, she might get mad."

She picked up her head off the pillow and leaned over him, almost lying on the side of his body. Looking down at him, her face less than an inch from his and her blonde locks gently tickling his face, she furrowed her brow. "Why? It's cold! And you're warm!"

Feeling flustered with her lying on top of him, her face so close he could feel her breath on his lips, a lump rose in his throat that made it difficult to talk. Turning his head toward the far wall, he stammered, "N-never mind."

Shrugging, Faith lay her head on his shoulder, gripping him tighter than before and draping one leg over his. "G'nite."

Now fully awake and terrified of being thrown out into the cold, the feeling of her laying on him stirred feelings of comfort and affection. He felt as safe and comforted as the times he'd sneaked into April's room where she'd held him while he'd cried. Staring at the darkened window across the room, he apathetically accepted his role as human hot water bottle. Part of him wanted to make Faith to go sleep on her own side, while another part was very much enjoying the secure feeling it gave him. Apathy gave the tie to the latter as he just vacantly lay there, enjoying the feeling of closeness while his heart hammered like a rabbit's.

Pondering his new normal, he felt the rise and fall of Faith's breathing; her breath warm against his neck. Relaxing him, his mind began to drift. I should hate wearing Faith's nightgown... so why don't I? he wondered. Looking down at Faith's hand, he actually smiled at the sight of her fingers gripping the satin bodice. Floating in and out of consciousness, he would be awakened periodically as Faith would move slightly or sigh contentedly in her sleep. He was startled fully awake when the door to the room opened, a shrill voice filling the space with the sound of irritation.

"Alright, you two!" the woman barked. "Up! Up! Up! Faith? Time to get up and dressed. Your mother said to pick something warm, we're in for the first serious storm of the season!"

Rolling over and away from him, he heard Faith cheerily sing, "Good morning, Franchesca!" The bed shook as he felt her move off it, listening to the sound of her light footsteps heading for the bathroom. Closing his eyes to pretend he was still asleep, he hoped the woman would just go away.

"Alright, you!" Franchesca barked. "It's after six o'clock! Breakfast in less than an hour! Mrs. Hargrave wants to talk with you right away, so drag your lazy bones outta that bed!"

Eric, afraid to be seen wearing Faith's nightgown, pulled the covers tightly to himself. In a flash, the comforter and sheet were ripped from his grasp; the chill in the air assaulting his body. Looking up, he saw a middle-aged woman in an ankle-length black dress with a white half apron, her ebony hair drawn up in a tight bun, making her long narrow face more pronounced.

"Come on, you!" she ordered while holding out the borrowed robe he'd worn the night before. "Snap to it! I have a lot of work to get done and you're messing up my schedule, lazing about!" Believing Heather had told the boy to wear the nightgown out of necessity, she didn't pay it any mind.

Getting up tentatively, he let the woman put the robe on him, sat down, and watched her place the matching slippers over his feet; the marabou at the toes tickling nicely. Seeing her offer a hand up, he took it and smiled weakly, thankful that she seemed to be unaware he'd been told to sleep in the T-shirt.

"That's better!" she said, her voice less harsh. "Come along." Taking him by the hand, he had to jog to keep up as she led him out and down the hall to the last door on the right. Knocking gently but firmly, she opened the door after hearing a welcome. "Mrs. Hargrave?" she pushed Eric into the room. "If you won't be needing me, I'll be getting to my work, ma'am."

"That will be all, Franchesca." Heather intoned sweetly from her bed. Gesturing for Eric to approach she inquired, "Did you sleep well, sweetie?"

Scared that the robe might come open and show he was wearing Faith's nightgown, he pulled the robe tightly around him as he stepped a few feet from the door into the opulent room. "Y-yes, Aunt Heather." Seeing her gesture him forward again, he resumed slowly walking to her.

The center of her room was dominated by a huge bed made of dark stained oak with four large posts running up to within a foot of the ceiling, making them almost look like support beams rather than furniture. Wrapping around it was an ornately carved headboard with attached nightstands jutting forward from the sides, lovely electric lamps decorated them that, for the time being, served no purpose. The only light in the room came from the gaslights stationed at even intervals around the room's four walls. The large electric chandelier hung uselessly but beautifully from the middle of the room's ceiling and the windows showed no sign of the coming morning yet.

He looked around while making his way to his aunt's bedside, noticing all the furniture was similarly done in dark stained oak and appeared very old in style, like things you might see in a movie with some fabulously wealthy character. Two dressers, an armoire, three wardrobes, a vanity, and a desk decorated the rest of the room. Elegant wallpaper of deep burgundy with thin gold vine patterns leading to delicate rosebuds covered the upper half of the walls, while the lower half was finished in fine polished oak. The carpet was a deep mahogany, so thick his slippered feet sank into it with each step.

Reaching the side of the bed his aunt was on, she regarded him with concern. "I need to talk to you. If you like, you may sit on the bed while we talk."

Climbing up on the massive bed, he was careful not to let the nightgown he was wearing show, holding Faith's robe closed in front tightly and keeping the bottom pointed away from her. Sitting on his feet at the foot of the bed, he made sure the robe he wore covered his legs for warmth, modesty, and secrecy, he finally looked up toward her. "Yes, Aunt Heather?"

She smiled, but he could tell she was upset. "Sweetheart, I think you can see that the weather has taken a decided turn for the worse since last night. It's very cold out this morning. Freezing, in fact."

Thinking she'd been told how he and Faith had been cuddling together for warmth, he was terrified that she was going to eject him from her home for letting it happen. Looking down in fear of her, he was too ashamed to even look her in the eyes. "I... I'm sorry, Aunt Heather." he stammered. "I won't blame you if you send me away to live in a foster home."

"What?" she exclaimed in confusion. "Sweetie, what ever would make you think that! I would never send you away!"

His head snapping up at her confused reply, he furrowed his brow. "I... I thought..." Realizing he'd misjudged what she was getting at, it dawned on him that he had given too much away and now would have to tell her what he'd assumed she already knew. He looked away once more, taking a breath. "Um... I thought you were mad at me that Faith was snuggled up close to me this morning... like kinda almost laying on me?" He glanced back toward her, but couldn't keep eye contact. "I... I told her you'd be mad about it, but she just told me to go back to sleep. I know I should have just told her to move, but I didn't. I'm sorry, Aunt Heather."

Her confused look transformed into one of understanding and then mild irritation. "I see. I assume she was snuggling for warmth against the cold?" Seeing him nod silently and fearfully, she sighed. "It's alright, sweetheart. I am not mad at you, or Faith... though I'll have to have a talk with her about intruding on people's comfort and privacy. It's something she's terribly blasé about. However, that is not why I wanted to talk to you."

Looking up and feeling the burden of guilt released, he smiled weakly. "Oh. What is it you wanted to talk about, then?"

"I'm afraid I'm forced to break a promise I made to you yesterday." she said embarrassedly. "I... I told you that I would take you into town today to get you new clothes and the other things you need, but I'm afraid circumstances are going to force me to delay my promise." Seeing the dismay on his face and then the vacant look of apathy returning, she sighed in exasperation. "You see, the storm is getting worse by the hour and many of the roads are already closed due to ice. We won't be going anywhere until at least tomorrow at the soonest, more likely the next day."

Taking a moment before she told him the worse news, Heather steeled herself. "There is a further problem. The power is still out and the power company says that it may not be restored for days. Since we have firewood and gas lighting, we are the lowest priority for service in an outage. Right now, they're working to restore power to other people that are much less fortunate than we are... people that depend on electricity for warmth and light. Do you understand, sweetie?"

He nodded. "I understand. You mean we're lucky and should be grateful we have heat and light. It may be cold in the house, but it's warmer than it would be if we needed electricity for heat." Realizing what his aunt had been driving at, he gulped again and asked, "Does this mean my clothes still can't get cleaned?"

She nodded ruefully. "I'm afraid it does, sweetie. You see, while we have some amenities that run on gas, we don't have any way of cleaning clothes quickly without electricity. We can wash them by hand, I've instructed Franchesca to do so, but drying them with no electricity in this cold and wet weather could take a very long time. It could be days before even the few clothes you have here, such as they are, are wearable... and only if Franchesca can repair them, which is doubtful. She's a housemaid, not a seamstress. On top of the roads being closed, it means that, for the time being, what you're wearing is all there is."

Feeling guilty about what it was he was wearing, his despair at the situation led him right back to apathy and guilt that he'd disobeyed her instructions. He almost hoped she would be mad and punish him for changing into the nightgown, feeling he deserved it for going against her wishes.

"About that." he started. "After you left last night, I had trouble settling in to sleep. Faith was right. The T-shirt kept bunching up just like she said it would." He gulped in fear that he was going to get Faith in trouble, but he just had to tell her. "Faith gave me a nightgown to wear." he said with an embarrassed sigh. "I should say though that she was right. It was way more comfortable and I fell asleep almost right away. Also, you did say it was up to me, right? I... I just decided it was OK. Please don't be mad at Faith!"

His aunt sat for a moment in stunned silence. Not that Faith had done it, she could easily believe she had, but the fact that apparently he'd complied without a fight. "Well... um... OK." she said as she tried to think what to do about it. As she looked at him sitting apathetically at the foot of her bed, she reasoned that his pain and grief were so acute he'd lost the will to assert much of any opinion, even willing to wear a girl's nightgown at the slightest prodding. Slowly she began to grasp the depth of his despair.

She'd seen similar behavior from adults who'd gone through severe trauma, but never such depth of pain in a child outside of abusive homes. Normally she would try to encourage talking through the grief, but every time she'd tried it only seemed to worsen, indicating he wasn't ready to face it yet. What he needed was a distraction, an escape, but circumstances were making that difficult, if not impossible.

Trying to work the problem one step at a time, she lifted her chin. "Alright. Well, I don't see that any real harm has been done. I'm glad you were able to sleep well and be comfortable. I'm sorry my calling you in here didn't give you a chance to change first. Would you like to return to Faith's room to change back into the T-shirt now?" she asked hopefully.

He shrugged absently, not seeming to care. "It's fine, Aunt Heather. Whatever you think is best." A soft knock sounded from the ornate door.

"Come in?" she bade them.

Faith walked in happy and smiling, wearing an off-white dress that came down to her ankles. "Good morning, Mamma! Franchesca told me they did cancel school today and that it might be canceled the rest of the week, so I won't miss anything staying home!" Seeing Eric sitting on her mother's bed shyly, she slowed as her smile died. "Is everything OK, Mamma?"

"Everything is fine, dear." her mother answered frustratedly. "I was just talking with Eric about our plans for today. You see, I promised him we'd drive down to Berlin to get him new clothes, but the storm has the highway closed, so I have to delay my promise." She looked back at him apologetically. "I will keep my promise, sweetie. I just can't do it today."

"It's alright." he answered vacantly. "You don't have to. Eventually my luggage will get here and that's good enough for me." His emotions were spiraling downward rapidly, certain that soon his aunt would tire of all the problems he was causing and send him away. His only faint hope was that perhaps she would send him back to Newport Beach where he could be put in a foster home near April. Thinking of her again, his eyes went wide.

"Aunt Heather?" he asked looking up at her sadly. "I jus' realized I fergot ta' call April last night ta' tell her I got here OK. You gotta smartphone I can use real quick?"

Almost flinching at his abysmal use of language, she shook her head. "You forgot to notify April that you arrived safely, and do I have a cell phone you may borrow briefly." she corrected him. "However, the answer would be 'No' either way. There is no cell service here at the house, so I don't have a cell phone anymore, nor would it do you any good if I did have one."

"Oh." he answered dejectedly. Looking up at her once again he asked, "How about a com..." He stopped mid-question before answering it himself. "...puter, which wouldn't work since there's no power. Do you have a regular phone, Aunt Heather?"

"We do, sweetie." she answered, giving him fleeting hope. "However, it's only a quarter after three in the morning there. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until later in the day."

"That's right." he replied, hope evaporating quickly. "I forgot about the time difference, and April's parents don't let her take calls before school anyway, so I can't call her 'til six tonight when she gets home from school."

Faith stood by impassively as he and her mother talked. Noting the time, she waited until she would not interrupt. "Mamma? Breakfast is in less than forty-five minutes and Eric still doesn't have anything to wear." she pointed out. "What's he going to do today?"

"I really don't know, dear. His clothes won't be dry for a few days at least, and we have nothing for him to wear, except what he has on now. Speaking of which, I'm told you had him change after I put you two to bed."

"I had to, Mamma!" she defended her actions. "He was fidgeting around trying to get comfortable and couldn't, isn't that right, Eric? He would have kept us both awake for hours! Besides, he chose to wear it!"

Turning to the young boy, Heather could see the defeat in his eyes; willing to be led to almost anything so long as it distracted from the emptiness. "I find it hard to believe that a boy your age chose to wear a girl's nightshirt."

"Yes, Aunt Heather." He nodded shyly. "I really did. It's not like I had much of a choice. She was right. It's a lot better than that baggy T-shirt." Wrapping his arms around himself, he shivered. "Sorry. It's really cold. I'm not used to it ever getting this cold. Cold in Newport Beach is sixty, not six!"

Faith turned to her mother. "You didn't answer my question though, Mamma. What is he going to do today? It's cold enough that I didn't get warm until I got dressed. You always told me that 'I don't know' isn't an answer, right?"

"Don't be flippant, dear." she retorted. "No, it's not an answer, but I don't have one to give you. Sometimes even adults don't know what to do."

"Then why not have him wear one of my dresses?" she persisted. "I honestly don't see what the big deal is. Besides, what choice is there?"

"He could stay as he is, dear... that is a choice." she pointed out. "In fact he could go back to wearing Fredrick's T-shirt and we can try to find some way of getting a pair of pants to fit him."

"Mamma!" she said incredulously. "You saw him! He needed my robe to keep Freddie's T-shirt from falling off! I don't understand what's so terrible about him borrowing a dress! It's the only thing in the house that will fit!"

Eric looked over at his cousin. "Don't you have like jeans, or a T-shirt I could borrow? Even if they're girly, that would at least be warm... and maybe Aunt Heather wouldn't mind that so much."

Faith shook her head. "No, I hate pants! So Mamma doesn't make me have any. You could wear one of my skirts and a blouse instead of a dress!"

He shrugged defeatedly, his one thought of how to resolve the issue up in smoke. "Anything is fine with me, I guess. Whatever you think is best, Aunt Heather." he repeated as he shivered once more.

Now seriously concerned that he was falling deep into depression and apathy, enough that he may consider harming himself, Heather tried to think of a way to make him assert himself again. Shivering inwardly, she thought of a therapy technique that she felt might have the best chance at success; confrontation and transference.

She could not only allow Eric to borrow a dress from Faith, she could insist on it until he pushed back at her, transferring his anger with the world and God to her. She had used the technique before, but this was the first time she had actual authority over her patient, making it both easier and more difficult at the same time. It was also morally ambiguous and risky, but her training and experience told her that doing nothing would be far, far worse.

"Very well." Heather began. "Faith has made a point I cannot find fault with, nor can I think of any reasonable alternatives. Since without heat other than the fireplace, you can't very well run around the house all day in a bathrobe, and since you don't seem to care either way, you will borrow clothes from Faith until yours are dry. Please go take a bath in Faith's room. Use the toiletries she has available. She and I will be in shortly to help you change." She was almost abrasive in her tone.

"Really, Mamma?" Faith asked incredulously, hardly able to believe that her argument had changed her mother's usually unshakable mind.

Shrugging, Eric slid off her bed and headed toward her door. "Yes, Aunt Heather." was his only reply. Feeling completely cut off from himself, like a puppet on a string that he could only control indirectly, he simply obeyed. He had a fleeting impulse to shout at his aunt, tell her that he wouldn't do it, but his anger was born only out of habit, not any actual desire or preference. Walking down the hall and into Faith's room, he found it odd that he didn't really care, thinking he should more than he did.

Entering Faith's bathroom, he started the water running, warming it up while he undressed. In short order he was bathing using Faith's toiletries. Washing his hair thoroughly, he rinsed and picked up the bottle of Japanese Cherry Blossom body wash. Cleaning himself all over with it left him feeling heartbroken as soon as he recognized the scent.

Sitting on the curb in front of his house in Newport Beach, Eric fiddled with a rock under his shoe, barely noticing when April sat beside him. Finally he smelled something odd and looked to his left.

"What's that smell?" he asked curiously.

Leaning against her best friend, her head rested on his shoulder. "Soap."

"No. I use soap and that ain't it." Eric grimaced.

"OK, so it's girl's soap." April shrugged. "I ran out of my normal bath soap and had to use some of my cousin's that she left here last Christmas."

Nodding in understanding, he went back to rolling the rock under his shoe. "OK." After a span of silence he commented, "It smells nice."

She sighed, worried about him. "Thanks."

After another silent stretch he added, "I just didn't want you to think I thought you smelled bad is all."

Hooking her arm under his, her head never having left his shoulder, after another awkward silence she finally asked, "How's your mom?"

"Not good." he shook his head despairingly. "She told me this morning that she's going to have to go to the hospital and stay there for a while. Maybe even a few weeks. She's inside packing right now."

Sitting up quickly, April turned to look at him. "That bad? I thought her chemo was going well?"

Shrugging as he shot his foot forward, he made the tiny rock under his shoe roll out into the street. "That's what she told me last week, but I guess you just can't tell with these things."

April thought silently for a moment before asking the question she didn't really want to hear the answer to. "So... what's going to happen to you? I mean, if your mom is going to be stuck in the hospital for a while, you can't stay home alone, can you? You're not even twelve, yet."

Picking up another pebble, Eric flung this one out in the street with his free hand. "I guess I'll hafta go to a foster home. At least 'til Mom gets better."

She drew in a short breath. "A foster home? Isn't there any other option? Don't you have any other family?"

"Not really, no." Eric shook his head sadly. "I mean I have an aunt that lives someplace back east, my uncle Richard's widow, but I don't think she'd be very likely to want to take me in. I don't think I've ever even met her. Besides, I need to stick around so I can help Mom get better."

Leaning against his shoulder once more, April tried to figure out a way she wouldn't lose her best friend. Suddenly, she sat up. "Hey! I could ask my mom and dad if you could stay with us! I mean, you've stayed over lots of times when your mom was out of town for work! Why not just stay with us for a few weeks?"

"Do you think they would mind?" Eric perked up.

"Only one way to find out!" she exclaimed, standing quickly and extending her hand down to help Eric up.

As he stood, he caught the scent of her again and smiled a little. "That stuff's really pretty. Your cousin sure must like smelling like a girl, though." he quipped.

"What do you expect?" she retorted as they started walking the short distance to her house. "She's a girl!" After a moment of walking silently together, she added, "Oh, and in case you hadn't noticed, so am I."

Eric smiled at her as they walked up the walkway toward her front door, simply unable to resist the easy joke she'd handed him. "Yeah, but I won't hold that against you!"

His last remark earned him a slap on the arm just as he passed her while she held the screen door open for him, the two entering the house he would live in for the next six months.