Love Rewards The Brave (5 page)

25.

“Louisa, can I come in?”

She knocks gently

peeks her head in my door.

Ms. Francine is smiling

moving into the room a little more.

I start to say something

about the mess

the music that’s too loud

the dishes left on the bed

the schoolbooks scattered on the ground.

She shakes her head slightly

as if to say it’s no big thing

and instead she tells me news that makes

My day.

My week.

My year.

Benji can come over Thanksgiving break to stay.

The social worker gave the A-OK.

I smile big and wide.

The sort Ms. Francine never gets from me.

I pull out my phone to call Benji.

I go to sleep thinking that in two weeks time

brother and sister

will have another shot

at being together.

Another shot at

living out our forever.

Another shot at

being a salvaged family.

That’s good enough for me

because it is better than the one

I’ve currently got.

Which is none.

Ms. Francine, bless her heart,

I know I rarely say it and

I know I rarely act like I give a shit,

but tonight I do.

As I fall asleep

I silently say

Thank You.

26.

I sit on Jess’s bed

while she puts on lipstick

staining her lips bright red.

I laugh as she pushes her boobs up

pushes up everything she’s got.

Accentuating the haves

and the have not’s

in the high school game

of who’s got what.

I laugh at her as she

whines about Markus

and how he wants her to cut the dance.

I know Jess

and I know how it means something to her

to show up at school with

a boy by her side.

It makes her feel special

and her parents full of pride.

So I don’t give her a hard time

you know

for being a sell out.

Because I think I might sell out too

if given the chance.

I’m not talking about

some guy dancing real close

letting his hand fall down low

as he gets a dose

of his wishes

fleshed out

with a hard-on

under the lights of a disco ball

(probably a blue one)

in the school gym.

No, I’m talking about

Markus coming over

and shaking her parents’ hands.

And then the moment after that

where Mom and Dad look at one another

and say, “Look, our girl is all grown up.”

27.

That’s the moment I walked

down to Jess’s house for.

Not for the makeup

or the girl talk.

I’m waiting for the moment

after the knock

on the door.

The moment I’m never going to get.

And yeah, I ain’t tryin’

to throw myself a pity party

woe is me.

I don’t need none of that.

I just want to

see that kinda

love

in real life.

It makes it seem like

most anything is possible.

I am looking for an:

Anything

is

possible

kinda

chance

when

Benji

comes

next

week.

28.

The house smells

like pumpkin pie

and every time I walk down to the kitchen

to see what’s going on

Ms. F says, “Come here, Louisa, you just have to taste this!”

She sticks a spoon in my mouth

full of mashed potatoes and gravy.

I try hard not to admit

that Ms. F is

the best cook

in the world.

I remember years worth of

Shake ’N Bake

Stove Top stuffing

it’s all I really know.

So when she talks about hazelnuts

dried cranberries

homemade rolls

rising with little brown tops

a turkey brined with sea salt

it feels

like me admitting

the truth about

how good it smells

and how good it feels

to be eating like kings

would be me saying

everything

I ever knew

was trailer trash

(and this stuff here on the stove

is straight out of a magazine).

Ms. F just says, “Mmhmm,”

and smiles real slow

and goes back to stirring her pan

of homemade caramel sauce

for our apple pie.

29.

I go back upstairs

for a little while more

knowing there are a few hours before

the other people

Benji

arrives.

I sit on my bed

wishing I were brave enough

to go downstairs and ask Ms. F

if I could help.

Wishing that

me asking

wouldn’t be like me saying

Thanksgiving with you

is the best

I’ve ever had.

30.

The knock on the front door

happens just as I’m closing my eyes.

I nearly jump out of bed

knowing Benji’s

finally

here.

But the person I see when I open the door

with a smile plastered

on my dark purple lips

is as far from Benji as possible.

And Ms. F is right behind me

opening her arms wide for a hug.

Ms. F starts telling me about how

her sister coming

is a great big surprise

and that she doesn’t believe her eyes

that her little sister Margot made it.

“Margot, meet Louisa.”

Ms. Francine smiles at me

as she says it

me feeling even more distance

with this new presence.

She is no Benji.

Margot was supposed to be at the

house of her boyfriend’s family,

but the plans changed

they split up unexpectedly

and now she’s here, Margot and Ms. Francine

laughing and hugging and

Ms. F suddenly looks

a lot younger

than usual.

31.

Next thing I know

the friends from Ms. F’s book club arrive

and some husbands and partners.

I sit in the corner

admittedly

a bit surprised.

Surprised that Benji isn’t here yet.

Ms. F hands me a tray of

olives to set on the table

forcing me to get up

say hello

to the adults in the room.

Forcing me to get up

not sulk at the fact

that I feel all alone.

And Margot, she comes over

stands right next to where I am

and she gives me a look.

You know, the kind of look that says

she thinks most of the people here

are pretty lame too.

I see that

her arms reveal
too many
a few tattoos

that would make Jess squeal in jealousy

and she’s

slouching close 

in some sort of camaraderie

with a ring through her nose

just like me.

I look over at Ms. F

who is back in the kitchen taking out the turkey.

Realizing her little sister Margot

is the reason she never looks at me like

the teachers at school do.

A Goth girl gone bad.

And that makes me pop an olive in my mouth

even though I have sworn they are gross

since I was a little kid

because

that’s what Margot does.

32.

Finally the knock on the door

isn’t another one of the fourteen friends

Ms. F invited here today.

The knock at the door

is for me.

He looks a mess.

Not the kind of mess

that is me.

The kind of mess that makes people

wonder why he hasn’t bathed.

Wonder why Ms. F caved

and let him come here

on Thanksgiving Day.

Ms. Francine is right where she needs to be,

getting numbers and a list of prescriptions

from the social worker dropping

off my Benji.

I wish there was a little more

laughing and smiling

like Ms. F and Margot did when

she showed up on the very same

.

But Benji looks at me

pissed.

I’ve always been so good at reading him.

I went out on a limb

getting him

here today.

A hug would’ve been nice.

33.

Ms. Francine follows us up to the bedroom

that Benji will use during his stay

of the next four days.

My room right next to his room

where it should be.

To do my job of keeping him close.

After Ms. F goes through a list of rules:

- no smoking

- no fighting

- no knives

- no running away

I look at her

thinking,
give
me
us a break
.

He’s just a

little boy

as she searches the bag

he brought upstairs.

“Ms. F, he’s cool. Why are you doing that to him? You never do that to me.”

And she looks at me like I’m the fool in the room.

Not her.

“Honey, you’re not Benji. Okay? I am doing my job here, to keep everyone safe.”

She unzips the pouch on the front of the bag

pulling out

a pocket knife,

forty-two dollars cash,

a lighter,

and what looks to be

a stash

of cigarette butts.

I look from him to her

and see he has his arms crossed

feet apart.

He’s looking for a fight

with this tall

wide woman

who works at a

library.

But I know Ms. F doesn’t play

those kinda games.

Her games

are the only ones

we play at this house.

Games she calls:

I’m gonna meet you where you’re at

or

I’m not working harder at this than you are

or

Is that your plan?

I’ve been here nearly a year

so I know how to play by the rules.

Most days.

But the only games

Benji has ever played are the ones our dad taught us

and in those games

we always lost:

You looking at me, you piece of shit?

Or

If you say a single word I’m coming after your sister

Or

You think you’re special because you’re mommy’s special boy?

The
rules
games at “home”

were a lot different than the ones

here.

“Benji, I’m going to take these things for now, and when you leave you can have them back. I don’t know all the rules at the group home you’ve been at, but I do know the rules at my house. And this stuff isn’t going to fly. Okay?”

Benji doesn’t look at her.

He looks headlong out the window

a blank stare on his

freckled face.