Free A Fistful of God by Therese M. Travis

the sidewalk. I should have stayed home. I should have.
    A tree blocked the streetlamp, and I leaned against its trunk, pressing so the bark dug into my skin. How could she do this to me? I bet Shannon was busy telling them why Mom was late. Why she wouldn’t show.
    Lucy’s front door slammed, and I heard Shannon. “Even if she shows up, we’d probably better not let her go—you know. She’s probably—”
    “Shannon—” Jackson started.
    “You’ve never seen her. I have. It’s scary—she gets so drunk.”
    Jackson tried to interrupt again but Shannon talked over him.
    “It scares Aidyn, and she’s too tough to get scared easy.”
    Tough. Right, only, not me. I’m not tough.
    Jackson raised his voice. “It’ll be OK, I promise.”
    How could he promise anything?
    Shannon started up again and Jackson said, “Not so loud.”
    “She’s not out here.”
    I pushed away from the tree and stumbled up the walk, staggering just like my mother, only my unsteadiness came from anger. “We might as well go. She’s not coming.”
    Shannon squealed and slapped her hand over her mouth. Jackson shook his head. “Wait one more minute, OK?” he begged, just as a car pulled up to the curb.
    Mom got out. “Sorry, Aidyn. I couldn’t find that map, and I got turned around.” She smiled and the fear soured my throat until I saw that her steps were steadier than mine had been. “Hi, Jackson,” she went on.
    “Hey, Mrs. Pierce. You made it.” He moved off the porch, and Shannon came with him, holding onto his arm as if afraid he’d sprint away, or afraid my crazy, drunken mother would visit some unnamed evil on her. We stood in Lucy’s front yard, waiting for Mom to act like she planned to get back in the car and take me home.
    “Shannon?” Mom sounded delighted. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.” From the way she acted, I knew she had no idea why.
    “I guess not,” Shannon said, more embarrassed by the second. She looked down and let her hair curtain her face.
    I ran to the car and yanked the door open.
    “Tell your mother thanks again, Jackson,” Mom said.
    After she started the engine I said, “I didn’t know you knew Jackson’s mother.”
    She hesitated. “We met a few weeks ago.”
    “She called you, didn’t she? Tonight, I mean, and told you to come get me.”
    Mom sighed. “Jackson said you were upset.”
    “I wasn’t.” I pushed myself against the door. “I figured you were too drunk to remember.”
    “I know.” Mom pulled into our carport. “I wish I could help you, Aidyn, but I guess you want to do it for yourself. You won’t let anyone else in.”
    Who would want in to help me ?
     
     
     
     

7
     
    I lay on my side in bed and stared at blinds broken by age. The dark night rendered them fuzzy. Chunks of streetlight wrestled their way through the holes.
    I did not want to hang around the kids from church anymore. Any kids. They all had so much more than I did—fun, friends, families, people they could trust. I would never be like them. They knew it, and I knew it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hide Mom, or hide what she was. I couldn’t hide me, or my fear. And if I could, Shannon would blow my cover.
    Tears trickled down my face, and I sniffled before I realized what I was doing. I sat up and grabbed a tissue to blow my nose. I was not going to cry just because I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted it so bad, and I didn’t know how to get it. But crying never helped.
    Miguel knew. He was one of them, even though he was like me. How could he do that, be two different people?
    I remembered how Lucy said Miguel had been looking for me. He knew all about me, but he’d still come looking for me. Because he recognized me? I closed my eyes and remembered his prayer and prayed it over in my mind, until it melted into my heart. Until I fell asleep.
     
    ****
     
    The next morning the gardener’s lawnmower coughing itself to death woke me, and after that, Mrs.