Where did I leave that bus ticket
I can’t stay here any longer
They just don’t understand me
I wish mom didn’t die…
Dodge City, Kansas…
Teddy Kubelski winced as he heard the front door open and close. Living in a home where he was misunderstood was painful enough; that they didn’t try hurt even more. He breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the peril had passed. A moment later his worst fears were realized as a “where is that fucking kid?” came from the living room.
He looked out the window and saw that his bike was leaning on the side of the house by the kitchen door, so escape such as it was would be on foot. If he was going to make the move, it had to be right then and there. He went to open the window when the bedroom door opened up. Standing there, all five-foot-six of him, was his foster mother’s son, Kenny Pollack.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re goin’?” Kenny asked as he grabbed Teddy by the scruff of the neck, pulling him back away from the window. Before he could answer, the young man threw Teddy against the wall next to the closet door, sending a model of a 57 Chevy Nomad crashing to the floor, shattering in more than a few pieces and stirring up the accumulated dust of seven years of neglect. The room had been Kenny Pollack’s when he had grown up, and it had been passed along to any boy unfortunate enough to land at the Pollack house through the foster system.
“Look what you fucking did, you little faggot.” That Kenny didn’t consider Teddy’s orientation mattered not; he just called every boy that his mother cared for a faggot. He grabbed Teddy and pushed him back against the wall.
“Where the fuck is my money?” Kenny said meanly but in a voice almost too soft to hear.
“I told you…they don’t give me the money…your mother gets it and she spends it.”
Kenny continued to get it wrong despite his mother’s twelve year history as a foster parent, which wasn’t lost on Teddy. If he hadn’t banged his head against an old nail right then he might have laughed at the irony. But then again, probably not. Instead, he began to cry.
“What a little shit…you calling my mother a thief?” Again the misconception took precedence over the obvious and Kenny hit Teddy in the mouth with a hard slap, causing his lip to bleed.
“Nnno…Just a second…please…” Kenny was about to hit the boy once more when Teddy reached into his pocket.
“Here…this is worth a few hundred dollars…my Mom gave it to me…”
His hands shook as he produced a plastic case with a 1972 Lincoln penny, double obverse; it was worth over $500. Its 1969 companion was worth in the neighborhood of $30,000. It was almost too sad and painful to part with, since it was the last connection he had to the past, and Kenny was taking it like it was just milk money. But two broken ribs (unattended) and a sore lip, plus a secret that would likely get the boy killed loosened the grip on his treasure.
“Fuck…what a fucking wimp,”
Kenny said as he tore the case out of the boy’s hand. And with that, he walked out of the room, laughing as he ignored the boy sitting on the floor against the wall, crying over one more loss in a brief but painful history of losses. Teddy’s mother had been killed in a car accident along with his baby sister Claire, and with no living relatives to adopt him he had been placed with the Pollacks only three months before.
In that short span of time, Kenny had stolen Teddy’s Zune and his cell phone, along with virtually every dime the boy had. It had been nothing short of miraculous that the young man hadn’t found his one supreme treasure. And he wouldn’t get the chance. The boy looked down the hall and saw Kenny walk out the door and drive off.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, scratching his lip in the process and pulling off the already-forming scab on his lip. The tears kept flowing. He felt he could stand another beating, but losing that coin was like losing his family all over again. He took a deep breath and looked around. Kenny had taken most of his clothes, so there wasn’t anything left to do but grab the twenty and the bus ticket he had hidden under the table lamp and head out the front door.
Greyhound Bus Station, Dodge City…
Teddy walked up to the ticket gate and smiled.
“Excuse me, please? Would you mind telling me when the next bus to Wichita leaves?” He asked. The clerk looked up and smiled; her wide toothy grin was a welcome sight after three months of hell.
“Six-thirty-five or so; depending.”
“Thank you very much,” Teddy returned the smile, evoking,
“You’re welcome, young lady.”
Teddy smiled once again and headed toward the door to wait outside. In the space of a half hour, his fortune had turned a bit as the flight he so long awaited had finally come, and the recognition she so longed for had finally arrived. She pulled her hoodie back, revealing nearly shoulder length blond hair; very unruly perhaps, but still long.
Wichita, Kansas…
Four hours later, she stood at the counter of the Riverside Cup of Tea. A young lady ages with Teddi came up and smiled; just another blessing among small blessings, but a blessing none the less.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m meeting a friend…Nancy Wadden?”
“Oh…that would be…” The girl grew red even as she smiled sweetly. A kindly looking woman, fortyish, came to the counter. The girl turned and spoke softly.
“This girl says she’s here to meet you, Daddy.” The girl giggled a bit; it never ceased to amuse her in a pleasant way.
“You must be Teddi. I’m Nancy. This is my daughter Janine.” The woman smiled and the girl beamed.
“Oh…I talked to you on the phone. I hope you like it here. You’ll be in my classes at school this fall, and I can introduce you to all my friends.” She smiled again and turned to help a customer. The woman stepped from behind the counter and led Teddi to a booth where they sat down. She smiled again; this was going to be alright, the girl thought to herself and the woman spoke once more.
“I’ve already talked with social services; they know about your situation, and I’ve got a nice couple from the Lutheran Church around the corner that you can stay with. Welcome home, Teddi… welcome home!"
The girl looked around and the tears began to flow, but for the first time in months they were tears, not of grief or pain but of relief and joy. She put her hand in her pocket and fingered the small plastic case … the 1969-S double obverse Lincoln penny secure in her hand. She sighed with a half-grin and pondered the woman’s words…
“Welcome home!”
Who am I?
Even after all this time?
Even when she loves me...
I wish I trusted my life
Department for Children and Families. Wichita, Kansas Years later, the Friday before a long Monday-Christmas weekend…
Teddi sat at her desk, one of six in several cubicles spread through the larger office. She had just finished a quick call to her supervisor when she heard her cell-phone beeping almost merrily to the happy lilt of Guaraldi’s rendition of Little Drummer Boy.
“Hey, Babe? Yeah. Just the one appointment. Same old, but…” She paused. Confidentiality is a dicey thing, but she never spoke to her partner in anything other than very general terms that focused on approaches and asking for support when things were stuck.
“Yes. I think thing will be okay. Just…” She paused and looked at the picture on her desk. A grand-motherly woman being kissed by her daughter and daughter-in-law. She nodded at the photo.
“Pretty much like me, Babe. Yeah. Get out the hankies and maybe some Merlot for when I get home? Give NanNan a kiss for me and tell her we’ll be over tomorrow afternoon? What? Oh yes. That dark Blue-Green shawl she likes? Got it all wrapped up. Love you, Janine! Kisses! …”
Even after so many years, she still doubted herself. So much of what she had been through as a child, both good and bad, had helped define who she had become. But that’s really how things are with everyone. We often see good things in others while missing those same good things in ourselves.
Teddi was as much like anyone else that she had ever wished for. Nevertheless, she still struggled with the feeling that she had nothing to offer, despite a wonderful family and a very helpful place in the lives of the families she helped.
She clicked off her cell phone and stared at the file on the screen before turning off the computer. She sighed and turned to the woman sitting at the desk to her left.
“I’ve got an appointment and then home. Merry Christmas, Leela. Give my best to your family.” The woman smiled back and returned her attention to the work on her desk.
Teddi looked around. Nearly every desk was clear, computers off and chairs pulled close. A few of her colleagues might actually be home already or on the way, but all too many would be working late into the evening, with some on-call and some pulled away from home to another sadly frequent Christmas-time crisis in some poor family’s home. She grabbed her purse and keys and stood up. Another sigh escaped her lips as she hoped the day would at least turn out well for the child she was about to meet.
Teddi stepped into the vestibule and smiled. Two figures sat on the long padded bench. The woman looked nervous. She rubbed the shoulder of the girl sitting next to her.
“Hi. Teddi Wadden.” She offered her hand.
“Oh… hi. I’m Rhonda McNair… We talked on the phone?” She stood up, but her hand lingered on the girl’s shoulder, a reluctant gesture.
“Yes. Normally we don’t handle these things this way.” The woman looked around the vestibule and then over her shoulder through the open door to the offices beyond. The girl shook anxiously on the bench and Teddi noted that the girl’s face was marked by tear tracks and a black eye. She knelt down in front of the girl, gaining her attention.
“I’m sorry… your name. sweetie?”
“M…Mmmm….” She burst into tears. Teddi already knew the girl’s name from her conversation with Rhonda.
“I…. I didn’t know what to do. She’s been coming over to my place almost every day. You can see….” Rhonda wasn’t someone given to public displays of emotion, but the child’s predicament was too much even for her and she sat down again and pulled the girl into a hug as she began to cry as well.
“Listen? It’s almost noon. Why don’t we all go over to Bionic Burger for some lunch?” Teddi stood up and waited a few moments before offering her hands to Rhonda and the girl. As the girl stood up, Teddi leaned close and spoke softly; no in a whisper but with a quiet, almost soothing voice.
“We’re going to make sure you’re safe, honey, okay.” The girl shook her head; not in disagreement so much as a worry that her hopes and wishes were just that. Teddi leaned even closer. She turned to Rhonda as if to ask permission for what she was about to say, since they had discussed how to broach the subject gently. Rhonda nodded and Teddi spoke.
“Miss Rhonda and I talked yesterday after you came to her. I know your name, sweetie, and I know exactly how you feel about it.” At her words the girl shook her head furiously. She stared at Rhonda and stammered.
“How…you promised.” She shook a bit and Teddi grabbed both her hands. The gesture was almost magical as the girl’s shaking stopped. She looked up into Teddi’s eyes and saw that the nice lady holding her hands was beginning to cry softly. That alone was at least enough to nudge her into a small measure of trust.
Teddi paused, reluctant but conscious of the sad need for acknowledgment she was about to make.
“Your name … the one you have now? I know you hate it, and no, Miss Rhonda didn’t tell me. I just know because I hated my name when I was your age. When only my Mommy knew. I like my name now, but that’s just me.” The girl still wept, but her shaking had stopped altogether at the sound of Teddi’s voice and the touch of Rhonda’s hand on her shoulder once again.
“So, I guess the first question I have for you…Mark?” She said the name as softly as she could. Teddi recalled a scared teen years ago who had felt almost the same way. The girl put her head down as shameful tears fell from her face, but the mention of her name had to be a bridge of understanding that made the question even more important. In saying the hated name one last time, the girl was given the chance to permit herself to bid that part of her goodbye in a way. She felt Teddi’s hand lift her chin gently.
“What name do you call yourself, honey? Not what anyone else says. What is your name?” Teddi smiled broadly, her expression one of inclusion and hope. The girl paused and thought, as if mentioning her name was wrong. The bruise under her right eye was only one of a series of brutal rebukes by her step-father, and the mere mention of her name always led to hurt, both outside and in. Nevertheless, the smiles on both Teddi’s and Rhonda’s faces coaxed what little trust remained in the hopeless child to emerge and she spoke at last.
“My name….my name is Clare.”
Teddi put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. She stooped down on one knee and pulled the girl into an awkward hug, speaking softly, recalling with only a bit of remaining sadness over the deaths of her baby sister and her mother so many years ago.
“That is such a beautiful name. Clare is a beautiful name.” She stood up and smiled again. Clare reached into her pocket and handed Teddi a small pack of Kleenex, evoking an even broader smile from Teddi, who accepted the gift almost eagerly. She nodded and pulled a tissue from the pack and wiped her tears before saying at last,
“Well, Miss Rhonda? Miss Clare? Let’s go get some lunch!”
To be continued...
Previously, Wichita, Kansas…
"That is such a beautiful name. Clare is a beautiful name.” She stood up and smiled again. Clare reached into her pocket and handed Teddi a small pack of Kleenex, evoking an even broader smile from Teddi, who accepted the gift almost eagerly. She nodded and pulled a tissue from the pack and wiped her tears before saying at last,
“Well, Miss Rhonda? Miss Clare? Let’s go get some lunch!”
Bionic Burger Wichita, Kansas…
It was an odd moment when Teddi held the door open for Clare. As timid as the girl appeared, one might think she was just another shy middle-schooler, but Clare was actually approaching her sixteenth birthday. Teddi noticed that she and Clare were almost the same height, or lack of height as she would occasionally quip. At 5’5”, Teddi had barely grown past her size as a middle-schooler herself.
“I hope you don’t mind burgers, Clare,” Teddi waved at the girl, trying to ease her anxiety. Clare kept looking around the restaurant, hyper-vigilance inserting itself even in a reasonably safe place.
“Oh…sure.” Clare looked at the fries and sliders on the plate in front of her, but she sighed and then bit her lip.
“Clare? Are you okay?” Rhonda asked the girl. For anyone else, the question might almost seem redundant, since she was eating lunch with a social worker they sought because of the abuse the girl endured. But Clare needed every moment possible to express her fears and worries.
“I’m…” She looked down. Kindness can be as cruelly invasive as meanness, and her eyes quickly welled with tears. Teddi gently touched the girl’s shoulder and spoke.
“I know this is hard,” Teddi used her hand to gesture around. Rhonda tilted her head, puzzled. Teddi noticed the woman’s expression and smiled.
“I don’t want to make this all about me, but I remember when I first came to Wichita when I was a kid.” At her words, Clare lowered her face slightly.
“I was so scared, even with a new family that loved me and friends at school?” She paused and looked out the front window, as if she could see into the past.
“Every time a door opened? Every time something really loud sounded? I didn’t feel safe.” Clare raised her head.
“You??”
“My name was Ted…Theodore. After my mom’s brother. He died when he was little, and when I was born, she wanted to do something to remember him.” Teddi smiled almost casually, as if what she said was common. But the commonality she did express drew Clare’s attention further into a place of trust.
“So Teddi is my old new name.”
“You… were a boy?”
“Well… I was like you. And you’re not really a boy, either, right?” At Teddi’s question, Clare smiled. But her expression quickly changed when she leaned closer on her elbows and her hand brushed the faded bruise under her eye, evoking a startled wince.
“My… I was in a foster-family and the boy there...” Teddi pointed to her left eye, as if to display a long-healed bruise of her own. She nodded.
“I know how much that hurts, sweetie, but it hurt…it hurts more sometimes inside, right?” Clare’s eyes widened in realization.
“Mmm…my Mom’s boyfriend…” Clare lowered her head again. She hadn’t been home for nearly a week, but the threat still felt in-the-moment. And as much as she feared him for his abuse and his cruel hatred to her, Clare had already made the jump from fear to realization about her mother. Almost knowing without knowing. She stared down past the table top to her feet below.
“Clare? Look up, sweetie.” A simple request, but the gentle voice coaxed her attention once again.” Teddi had not intended to bring up the subject until they had returned to the office, and she immediately regretted the decision to come to the restaurant. But the day was pretty much deciding for itself, guided by the girl’s need to express long-suppressed fears.
“He was arrested last night...” Teddi was dreadfully cautious, remembering every time she was lured into trust by a circumstance or story that promised safety but ended in disappointment. Her expression was mirrored by Clare and Rhonda. A ‘too-good-to-be-moment.’
Teddi sighed. She feared for the girl’s heart over what still weighed heavily on her own. Rhonda noticed and Teddi shook her head. Teddi looked slightly away, enough to hide the small trace of too-close-to-her-own-story tears. And Rhonda knew sadly what would be left unsaid for the safe hour or so while Teddi focused solely on the moment.
“Is he… can he? Will he…” The girl was too tired of her own world to hope and she began to cry.
“He…Mommy?” Was she too perceptive or was it just Rhonda’s and Teddi’s unmistakable silence. The girl’s expression seemed to go flat, as if she had already know what to this point was needfully left unsaid.
“I… I tried…” Clare looked back and forth as if to plead for forgiveness. Like so many kids in a very long line of dysfunctional families, Clare had become the protector, parenting her mother through sad, foolish choices that imperiled them both. She began to shake, and her left fist seemed to have a will of its own as she started to strike her thigh. Without a sound, and with an odd yet necessary smile that signaled acceptance, Rhonda reached over and gently took Clare’s hand in her, ending the self rebuke.
“I…” Rhonda shook her head. To this point she had made no mention of her connection with the girl other than her call to Teddi’s office days ago.
“My…my brother? I tried to get them to get help. I should have…” She began to weep. Teddi of course regretted her decision to talk in such a public place. But the tone had turned on a dime, as they say. Still, her failure to anticipate the girl’s questions left all three of them feeling needless guilt until Clare spoke, barely above a whisper.
“It… was like..Mommy didn’t care anymore.” Such wisdom from one so hurt and frightened.
“B….but where do I go?” Her sudden realization slammed hard once again into her fragile state and she began to weep. Rhonda pulled her into a hug and began to pat her gently on the back. She looked over Clare’s shoulder, her eyes pretty much repeating the girl’s question.
“Clare?” Teddi asked firmly, but in a tone that invited the girl’s attention. Clare looked up into Rhonda’s eyes and then to Teddi’s. Her face was red and hot, but a slight, hopeful smile began to emerge as Teddi nodded.
“Me? I can… Rhonda?” It was all too much to bear, even for such a relieved answer to wishes always left unspoken.
“Yes, Clare.” Teddi nodded once again, wondering if her own face reflected too much self-disclosure. Rhonda reached around Clare and grabbed almost blindly at Teddi’s hand. She tried to speak, but words did not come. But Teddi knew exactly what Rhonda was trying to say.
And in that one precious moment Teddi realized the fulfillment of every single wish she had ever prayed. Every wish spoken or silent would now have some meaning. Her wish for a life that mattered. And every moment in her life, both good and bad had brought her to that place of fulfillment. She smiled to herself even as the sound of sad weeping was slowly being replaced for Clare and Rhonda with soft crying filled with relief and long-awaited hope.
“Miss Teddi?” Clare sniffled while wiping her face with her sleeve. Teddi’s eyes widened as she noticed the girl’s sad expression had finally changed.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Thh…” Clare struggled with the words merely because the gratitude behind them was new and overwhelming. Rhonda smiled at Clare and mouthed,
“Thank you.” Teddi nodded and retrieved an envelope from her purse.
“This will do until we can make more formal arrangements for you two, okay?” Teddi stood up and smiled at them.
“Since we drove here separately, I’ll just head for home. I wish for you the best…” Teddi paused, wondering how to finish, since the day, as hopeful as it promised going forward, still was filled with sadness. She went to continue, hoping to express something appropriate. Rhonda held up her hand in gentle caution.
“My grandmother… my Mom’s mother Paulina? Un Natale nagradolce. Bittersweet. Thank you, Ms. Wadden. Thank you.”
“We can meet after the New Year. Merry Christmas,” Teddi said finally and walked out to her car. A moment later she sat behind the steering wheel,but instead of driving off, she reached into her purse and withdrew her wallet. And in her wallet she eyed a small plastic case. Life had indeed been kind over the years, and what had begun as a fall-back on hard-times had also become a reminder of the grace of god in her life. She had little want. Janine and she shared a lifetime together; girls as besties and then girl friends and finally a couple with two kids of their own.
But the object in her hand had been a promise of sorts. A token of her mother’s wish for her safety just in case? The 1969-S double obverse Lincoln penny might never be ‘needed,’ but she had ‘cashed it in’ repeatedly over the years as a reminder of her mother’s love. She pulled out her cell phone and pulled up Janine’s number.
“Jay? Honey? Oh no…Everything is just fine… Yes… Egg Nog? Sure. I can stop at Dillons. What? Oh…. I just called to hear your voice?” She sighed.
“What? Oh just thinking about you… Yes…I love you, too. See you at home… Bye.”
She clicked off the call and stared out the window; a view towards home in a way. And she smiled as she realized finally that wishes, especially Christmas wishes, can come true.
Next – Kiera’s Christmas Wish
What should I do?
Maybe he won’t hit me this time.
If I show him how much I care,
Maybe he’ll change.
I wish I knew what to do.
Rialto, California...
Keira Dennison sported a very painful looking black eye, and her eyes were red from crying.
“Keira? Look at me…“ Joey Yan sat on the couch next to her; his expression one of great concern.
“I’m alright… I’ll be okay.” She said it but her lowered head said otherwise.
“That’s what you said the last time. You can’t keep letting him do this to you.” Joey thought about grabbing her chin and softly lifting it up, but she didn’t need one more man laying a hand on her. He leaned closer and spoke in a near whisper.
“Honey…you need to get some help. He’s not going to change; not for you, not for anyone until he gets help himself, and that won’t happen if you keep letting him do what he does.”
“Where can I go…he’s the only one who cares about me….” She cried but stopped and gasped.”
“I’m so sorry, Joey…I didn’t mean it that way. You and Neil have been so good to me…since, you know.”
“I knew what you meant, Keira…it’s just we care about you.” Joey and his partner Neil had been like big brothers…well more like a big sister and a big brother to Keira since she moved to Rialto after college. She had been welcomed home by her parents, but the constant bickering and her father’s outbursts made it too painful to stay.
“Listen…we’ve got plenty of room, sweetie. Come stay with us. There’s a support group that meets in our church that you could go to, and I could always use some help in the store. You’re a whiz with cameras and photography.”
“But…maybe if I change. I can dress nicer.” She looked down at the blouse and jeans she was wearing; pretty much what she could afford since she wasn’t allowed to keep her own money.”
“Sweetie…you could wear Vera Wang and he’d still hit you. It’s not about you...it’s about him…he can’t control himself. You said it the other day; he’s just like your dad…you grew up around this…” Joey shook his head and bit his lip out of frustration. Joey met Keira’s father the day she moved from Sacramento, and found the man to be charming and handsome.
Keira’s mother, on the other hand, was almost a cipher; nodding and smiling for the most part, and agreeing with everything Keira’s dad had to say, but the nearly blank look on her face reminded Joey of his own mother, and Mr. Dennison was just like his dad. They both presented well to the outside world, their true selves remaining hidden, like some devious pod person from another planet.
“I really need you to promise me to consider this. You don’t deserve to be hit…Hell, nobody deserves it.”
“Look…I gotta get home…he’s working late, and I want to have something special for dinner for him when he gets home, you know. Maybe if I wear a dress…I’m sure he’ll like that.”
“Keira…listen to yourself. He nearly broke your eye socket with that punch and you’re worried about what to wear. The last time he hit you he nearly broke your arm. What will it be tonight? Chicken Kiev and Donna Karan and a ruptured spleen?” Joey regretted the attempt at humor.
“Listen…I’m sorry. After Neil you’re the most precious person in my life. I just made a stupid joke.” Joey began to tear up. He looked away, but only for a moment.
“He’s going to get worse if he doesn’t get help. Every day you stay there you put yourself in danger. You are a very nice girl who is convinced that you’ll never be able to find someone if you leave him.”
“But I love him, Joey. He’s the only guy I know that would put up with….” She quickly glanced downward out of habit, her own eyes filled with tears.”
“First of all, you are not someone to be ‘put up with.’ You are a sweet and caring girl that is as kind as the day is long. Any guy would be blessed to have you in his life. He’s not the only guy… he’s just the first and only guy because you can’t imagine anyone else…you’re just like my mom…you feel like you deserve to be hurt.”
“I’m not…he says I’m lucky that he cares or I’d be all alone.”
“But that’s just it, Keira. Whether he intends to or not, when he says things like that he just tears you down. It’s like you’re out in the middle of a lake and you’re sinking…you keep bailing water and he keeps poking holes in the bottom of the boat. Please…you don’t deserve it…you don’t, and you need to know just how valuable you are…to me… to Neil…and to God.
“He says that God doesn’t care for me…not since I… changed.” She glanced down again.
“God never stopped loving you, Keira. That doesn’t make sense. It would mean that God cares less about you than he does. God won’t forgive you but he will?” Joey was getting frustrated, and he was so afraid that she’d return to Richie.
“I don’t know what to do. Oh, Joey...I'm such a screw up...”
She lowered her head and gazed at her body, once again feeling inauthentic and false. She saw no future without him and she never would have much of a future with him. She was so entangled that she couldn’t really pull away without leaving part of herself behind. But staying would mean her own emotional garden would get choked with his weeds. Joey took a deep breath; if he was too firm it would be a duplicate of Richie’s control. Too soft and he feared he’d lose her for good.
“Keira…look at me…please.” This time he did cup her chin softly. He raised it and placed his palm on the side of her face.
“You are not a screw-up! You are an intelligent and kind and pretty woman. You’re just as precious to me as my own sister and you mean the world to me. I’m telling you as a brother and a friend; you know what you need to do. It will hurt worse than any punch he ever threw, but it will be over. If you stay with him he’ll kill you. He might not kill you outright, but he’ll kill you every day…just the same as if you died…and you’ll end up just like your mother and mine. You don’t…” He started to choke up.
“You don’t have to die, Keira. I want you to live…Please live for me? Come and live with us. Please?”
That evening...
The door bell rang; it was almost like clockwork as it chimed at 6:30 pm. Joey got up from the couch and walked to the door. Opening it, he discovered a very imposing figure on the landing. The man was dressed in the dark blue uniform of the Rialto Police Department.
“Hi, you must be Richie,” Joey said, holding out his hand.”
“Oh, hi. Joey? We talked on the phone. Keira’s mentioned you. Nice to meet you.”
Joey’s first impression was entirely as expected. The man was charming and handsome.
“I’m here to pick up Keira,” he said as he glanced over Joey’s shoulder looking for her.
“Well, gee, Richie, but I’m sorry; there’s been a change in plans.”
“I don’t understand…I thought you said she was here.” The man maintained control, but his expression belied the calm voice as his frustration was immediately apparent.
“Oh, you’re not mistaken…she’s here. She’s just not coming.” Joey smiled warmly; his intent was earnestly polite and conciliatory.
“Did you folks have plans? I wish you’d mentioned that while we were on the phone before.” His face almost resembled a pouting child who was about to get angry. Richie was used to getting his way, and rarely faced disappointment; at least in his personal life.
“Oh, Keira does have plans.” It was almost priceless. Just then Keira walked out of the kitchen and up to the front door. She took a deep breath, as if she were on the high board getting ready for a dive.
“Hi, Richie. How are you?” She smiled.
“When will you be ready to come home?” No hello, no ‘hi honey.’ His level of tolerance was set to nearly zero and his impatience showed immediately.
“I’m not coming home.” She winced only slightly out of habit but shrugged her shoulders in resolve for the inevitable,
“What do you mean…We had plans.” He almost mewled, but in a deep baritone, like a sick lion.
“No…Richie…you had plans. Remember? I was going to start the review class for the GRE tonight but you called the school and canceled for me.”
“Well…I’m sorry.” The ‘I’m sorry’ that is spoken only to avoid conflict and not express remorse; Richie was very good at apologizing insincerely even as he demonstrated once again a need to be sorry.
“No you’re not.” She surprised herself.
“Look,” he said, completely ignoring her. “I’ve got reservations for that restaurant we like, and..’ She held up her hand and spoke.
“No, Richie. Not tonight…Not any night.”
“What are you saying?” The question that demands an answer for, not for what was said, but for what was unsaid.
“I’m not coming home, Richie. I’m leaving you.”
“What do you mean? Leaving me? You can’t do that…Where will you go…who will take care of you.” The standard arguments.
“That’s not your concern anymore.”
“The hell it’s not! You need to stop this nonsense and come home. Now!” His anger was no longer hidden behind his charm, and it was actually frightening to watch the quick transformation. She stood her ground.
“Listen…you need to get in the car.” He pointed to the patrol car outside; almost as if he were arresting her instead of escorting her home.
“No, Richie. Not after this.” She pointed to her black eye, which had darkened and grown a greenish purple.
“Look, I’m sorry about that…I promise I’ll get help…we don’t need to talk about this in front of your friend,” he went back to pleading.
“NO! Not anymore…you’ve been promising for a year now.”
“But this time it’s different. I promise.”
“No, Richie.” She folded her arms and turned sideways to avoid his glare. She was struggling not to cry, and Joey noticed.
“I’m sorry, Richie…she’s made her intentions quite clear. I think it would be best if you left.” He put his hand softly on Richie’s arm. Richie pulled it away.
“Listen…” He went to add an expletive but thought better of it.
“This is between her and me…I think you should mind your own business.”
“But this is my business; Keira is like family to me, and I won’t have you abusing her any longer.” Even though Joey was nearly six inches shorter than Richie, he stood taller at that moment.
“I’m telling you to mind your own goddam business.” The charm departed completely and the rage began to take over.
“Please leave, Richie…I’m not coming home…it’s not home…” She realized at that moment without voicing the words that it had never been home. Richie went to step past Joey toward Keira but Joey stood his ground.
“What…are you going to try and stop me?” Richie laughed sarcastically as his bullying personality was completely unmasked. Just then a figure stepped out of the kitchen, almost on cue.
“We are.” Richie looked at the man behind Joey and Keira and his face turned white.
“I believe the young lady has made her intentions clear, Sergeant Womack.” Standing tall and resplendent in his own Riato Police Uniform was Chief Donetti…Chief Neil Donetti, Richie’s boss and Joey Yan’s partner.
“Um…Chief…I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Richie blurted out.
“Listen carefully, Womack…Do you think you can do that?” Neil tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t hide his appreciation for the moment and grinned just a bit. Not waiting for an answer, Neil continued.
“I’m going to say this once. Restraining orders seem to be as worthless as the paper they’re printed on. I, on the other hand, hold your future in my hands and I also carry a weapon, which for the most part I am loath to un-holster. However, if I find you within a mile of this young lady, I might reconsider my decision. You can turn around and go home.
I will arrange for Keira to come to your home to pick up her belongings with me and my partner’s help. You will be out of the home at the time we arrive, and I will call you to let you know we have departed. Don’t answer. Just nod and back out quietly.”
Richie went to speak and Neil held up his hand.
“Leave, Womack…Now!” With that he was out the door and gone.
Joey turned and breathed a sigh of relief only to find Keira leaning against the wall, sobbing. They all had expected it would be painful. He stepped closer to her and hugged her from behind. She turned and put her head on his shoulder like any little sister would do with her big brother. Neil walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder.
"I still love him...Oh god, I still love him."
"I know, honey...I know." Joey said, trying not to cry.
“It’s going to be okay, Keira…I promise,” Neil said softly; exactly like a big brother.
And in time it would be…
Will I ever be whole?
Even after all this time?
Can I find myself?
I wish I knew love
Eisenhower Senior High School, Rialto, California, several years later…
Keira walked slowly down the Administration hallway, almost in a daze. Holiday time continued to beset her despite the huge strides she had made over the years. But while she no longer considered herself a victim, old ideas remained, leftovers from Christmases past that always ended with disappointment over the abuse in her family. And now the doubts and insecurities came at her intensely like too-early Carols the day after Thanksgiving.
“Ms. Dennison?” She heard a familiar, friendly voice call from behind
“Yes?” Keira turned quickly to find Marie Gonzalez standing in the doorway of the Guidance department. The woman smiled, but beckoned urgently with a wave of her of her hand.
“Mrs. Rodriguez needs to talk with you.” Keira nodded even as an old emotional default tried to insert itself .
“She wants to talk with me,” she thought as she quickly set aside that old fear of being talked to. She walked up and knocked on the slightly ajar door to Anita’s office. Keira entered and closed the door behind her.
“Oh, Keira… One second?” She held her hand up and smiled before returning her attention to her phone even as she motioned for Keira to take a seat. Even though it was indeed an invitation, she still felt like she had been summoned to the Principal’s office instead of a meeting with the head of Guidance.
A few moments later, Anita clicked off her phone and turned her attention to Keira and half frowned, but spoke in a near whisper despite the closed door.
“Trish Cavaleri is at the nurses’ office. She… Mr. Denali was concerned and somehow managed to convince her to get the nurse to check her out. She’s been late the past three days to her first bell classes, and she always… According to Mr. Denali and Moira Parker, Trish looks upset and even…”
“Moira said Trish almost looks fearful,” Keira said with a shake of her head.
“You don’t suppose she’s… Well, since the District has reiterated its gender inclusion policy…” Anita frowned. No Tolerance policies never stopped anyone from being unkind the first time, since school bullying almost always seems to be exercised on a rotating basis.
“There have been a few remarks, but for the most part, the kids have either been accepting or at the very least oblivious to her and the Dubrano boy.” Keira pursed her lips in frustration.
“I am more concerned about her…” This part always felt emotionally dicey. A few of Keira’s colleagues knew about her past, and tried very hard not to make her the go-to gal for students with gender issues ,but since she had done a few assemblies about domestic violence over the last few years, her history as a survivor of abuse was no secret. Nevertheless she cringed. The same emotional default again shoved hard as she felt unworthy and incapable even now.
“Keira? We’ve know each other since college. I don’t want to press this burden on you, but all the same, you know exactly how Trish might feel about herself. Keira nodded slowly but put her head down.
“None of that. You might find that your presence in this department is, as someone once said, ‘for such a time as this?’ And what is it that you tell the kids you help?” Anita knew but urged Keira to repeat her words.
“I’m just another hungry person, but I know where they keep the bread…” It was an old saw she learned from a dear friend, a bit corny but true enough to give to kids who not only did not know where the bread was, but probably felt guilty about being hungry in the first place.
“I’ll wander down to the nurses’ office,” Keira said with a half smile. She stood up and went to leave, but Anita waved.
“I’m sorry.” Keira tilted her head in question.
“As long as I’ve known you? I want you to remember that you are so much more than your experiences. That no matter what? You have to remember that you need to remember exactly what you give to the kids you need to take for yourself. You are important, Keira, just because of who you are, okay?” Anita smiled warmly and Keira nodded. Anita sighed in frustration as she was left once again with a hope that her words would finally sink in.
The nurses’ office, several minutes later…
‘Knock, knock?” Keira said as she walked into the office. Jana Shah walked out of one of the side rooms and offered her hand.
“Trish is lying down. She was fine until I asked her how she was and she began to cry.” Jana sighed and frowned.
“She has some bruises on her wrists, but you know the deal? That her brothers were just playing? I’ve met one of her brothers and he’s not a big kid. I am not convinced...” Jana did not want to make any assumptions, but the bruises coincided with a complaint by Trish’s friends about the boy she was seeing.
“I’ll just pop in?” Jana nodded. She had seen too many kids and even some of her girlfriends deal with this. Thankfully, many of them got help, but it was still unacceptable that some didn’t, even if that number was decreasing. Keira smiled and walked into the other room, leaving the door open, failing to notice the widening smile on Jana’s face.
“Trish?”
“What?” The girl was now sitting up on the cot and she quickly turned her head to the wall.
“Ms. Shah said you’ve been crying.”
‘It’s my time of the month,” she snapped sarcastically, even as she stared down at her body in an almost scorn.
“I’m sorry, Trish.” Keira paused, measuring her next few words. No one had any success to this point, but at least Phil Denali and Moira Parker had convinced her to visit the nurse. A silent cry for help?
“I can see you’re not up to talking. I’ll be in my office…” Keira deliberately let her voice trail off. She had no intention of leaving, but Trish didn’t know that. The girl turned around sharply, and Keira could see that Trish was still crying.
“No…don’t…Please?” Trish’s expression was a mixture of sadness and fear. Keira nodded and grabbed the chair next to the cot and sat down, but keeping a bit of distance between them, leaving the girl with a measure of control over their interaction. Too many times in her own past, even well-meaning people tried to control Keira’s own path to safety. Trish needed coaxing and not demands.
“I’m…” The girl stammered and dropped her gaze to the bruises on her wrist. Instead of asking what happened, Keira raised her eyebrows just a bit and offered a sympathetic half frown.
“That must hurt.” The observation almost seemed to hearken more to the girl’s angry view of herself than to the physical evidence of harm. And of course that inner harm that wasn’t limited to the physical abuse.
“I…” Trish continued to stammer, evidence that something important was fighting to escape the emotional prison the girl had been in. Keira continued to offer sympathetic nods along with ‘It’s okay, Trish.’ The okay that is not foolish enough to minimize the pain but rather to wisely allow the expression of the girl’s sadness and fear.
“T…Tito….” She once again stared at her wrists. The feeling that wanting her boyfriend to let go of her wrists slammed hard against her fear that he’d let go of her altogether. Keira winced inside as she recalled her own lack of self-worth that convinced her that even angry and hurtful contact was better than no contact at all.
“It hurts so much…” Keira said as she looked Trish in the eye, almost ignoring the marks on the girl’s wrists. As long as Trish could not see her own inner pain, she might never walk away from the abuse. But she needed understanding and not guidance, at least not in that moment. And evidence of understanding could only come from Keira being vulnerable herself.
“I…I remember when my boyfriend told me…” Keira paused, hoping that the girl wouldn’t react like she had. The need to assert that said, ‘well, that’s you. My boyfriend/father/mother/brother is different. That need to feel special in the midst of pain and self-neglect. But every one and each time is different, thankfully. Trish’s eyes widened in realization.
“Your boyfriend?”
“He told me no one else would ever love me.” Keira’s tone was soft and not at all insistent. Trish needed to know that it wasn’t just Keira but at the same time it was more than just Trish.
“I…” Keira almost echoed the girl’s stammer, but it came from a place of wise caution to allow the girl to take it in at her own pace.
“I never knew just how much he hurt me… inside.” Keira looked down at herself and patted her chest, but not at all with the anger the girl had expressed, but rather with an almost smile that indicated self-acceptance.
“It…it hurts so much,” the girl echoed Keira’s observation from only moments before.
“I know, Trish.” Keira said softly. And in that instant, Trish knew that Keira knew. The pain. The sorrow. The doubts. The confusion. All the things that harried the girl on a nearly moment-to-moment basis. Not instantaneous understanding, but still instantaneous knowledge that someone else understood. She burst into sobbing. Keira looked to the doorway where Jana Shah stood, nodding with an admiring smile. Keira leaned only a little bit closer and tapped the girl on the arm, making sure to avoid the bruise.
“I know,” she repeated as the girl continued to cry.
“I know.”
Keira’s office, two days before the holiday break…
Keira heard someone at her door. She turned to find a familiar handsome-looking woman, a welcome visit even if Keira was painfully timid enough not to share that sentiment.
Jana Shah stood in the doorway with her own timid look on her face, which was odd since she practically exuded confidence nearly all the time. She was second generation Iranian-American whose family emigrated ironically when the Shah fled Iran in 1979. Her father and her mother both were immunologists and her sister was a midwife. Her call to serve at the school coincided with her Doctoral studies for Nurse Practitioner, but she had taken an extended break for health reasons and had only recently returned to School nursing.
“Ms. Dennison?” She stood stock still waiting for Keira to gaze from the papers on her desk. The two exchanged pleasantries with a formality that rarely if ever included first names.
“Ms. Shah. How nice to see you out and about. How may I help you?” Keira smiled pleasantly and Jana retreated a half-step. She had some good news but her thoughts immediately prior to arriving on Keira’s doorstep, so to speak, were almost too-typically nervous. She managed to set aside her anxiety and spoke.
“You have time?” She hadn’t meant to look away, but her posture sent the exact opposite of what she meant to convey.
“Trish Cavaleri?” Keira anticipated the worst, but Jana’s emerging smile disarmed any dread.
“She and her mother found a good therapist.” Jana finished with a half-frown.
“But?” Keira asked.
“Oh no, I’m sorry. It’s all good . At least for the family. Her mother got a job in Sacramento and they’re moving over the holiday break.” Jana noticed Keira’s look of apprehension and quickly added,
“The school district is very supportive of trans teens.” Her words did little to alleviate Keira’s disappointment, which mirrored her own. Jana sighed. Her interaction with Trish over the past term was as much a friendship as a nurse/patient relationship. But she was relieved for the most part, and Keira was as well, even if she would also miss the girl.
“I’m glad for her.” Keira said even as she lowered her gaze, missing Jana’s nod.
“I just wish I had been able to help.”
“Help? I watched you pull that girl out of herself. She’s in a better place inside because of the encouragement you and Mr. Denali and Ms. Parker have given her. I would be fearful to imagine where Trish would be if it weren’t for you.” Jana half frowned in worry that she had made things too personal, at least in tone.
“I…” Keira hesitated.
“That is very kind, Ms. Shah.” Keira blushed. The room seemed to pull all the tension in the world into the small space, leaving Keira confused.
“I merely speak the truth, Ms. Dennison. You are indeed a remarkable woman.” At the word ‘woman,’ Keira turned away.
“You sell yourself extremely short Ms. Dennison,” Jana said almost too soft to be heard. She stepped into the office and closed the door slowly behind her, shutting out the din from the hallway two rooms away.
“I’m…”
“You told the girl how hurt you were… Not to bring attention to yourself but to let the girl know you are all-too familiar with her hurt, that she is not alone. That took courage, which it seems to be in diminished supply these days, at least for girls like her to see.”
“I’m not brave,” Keira argued.
“I have watched you speak to the kids in assembly. You make no effort to hide who you are and what you survived. That is brave, Ms. Dennison.”
Jana’s words were too ironic by half, as they say. Her own trials were no secret to any of co-workers, much less Keira. And that commonality included feelings of inadequacy and even feeling inauthentic, if for decidedly different reasons. Like both her mother and sister, Jana had lost the painful skirmish but won the war against the ravages of cancer. Whispers and sad looks had accompanied her return to school along with the all-too commonality known by some of her women colleagues.
“Keira?” Jana said softly, perhaps revealing too much in the tone of her voice.
“I…I know a great deal about you just in observing your dealings…no, your care of these kids. You…” Jana began to blush.
“And you don’t? Keira replied, her head still lowered.
“That is not what I said,” Jana spoke sharply in rebuke.
“We both care. But it is not enough.” Keira raised her head and shrugged, as if to say, I’m doing the best I can. Jana noticed her frustration, and her next word was even sharper.
“NO!” She stepped closer. The outer offices were already empty since it was past the end of the school day, but she cautiously closed the door behind her and continued.
“You, Keira Dennison, need to care for yourself. And when you cannot, you must at least accept the care of another, yes?” Jana looked back through the window in the door into the darkened outer office and nodded.
“And who will care for me, Ms. Shah?” Keira asked. A long day in a long term in a long arduous journey left Keira feeling hopeless once again.
“We may care for each other, Keira….That is, if you will let me? I know you already care for me, but my wish is that…”
“I…” Keira stammered. She lowered her head once again. Hope? Dreams? Dare she even wish? Her own silence left the room feeling cold until a warm hand caressed her cheek, which in turn left her face hot and even redder.
“It is said in many traditions that the Magi came from the east. That one may indeed have come from Persia.” Jana said as a smile crossed her face.
“If I may, I am not wise as a Mage, but I would like to present you with a gift…perhaps from one who is more than an admirer?” She glanced over her shoulder to the dark office behind and nodded with an even broader smile.
“Gold and Frankincense and Myrrh I do not possess, but what I have I freely give to you, Keira Dennison.” With those words she leaned close and kissed Keira on the forehead in blessing.
“I will go no further without a word from you. Will you let me care?” She pulled back slightly and smiled, a bit in caution but entirely in hope. Keira looked up. She had begun to cry, and it took all she could do to manage the next moment, but she smiled through her tears and said at last,
“Yes?
Next: Tara’s Christmas Wish