Darlings (2 page)

Ticking of the ornate clock broke the awkward
silence. Five thirty. She grabbed the note off the fridge to double
check what time parent teacher conferences began. Six
thirty. 

“Jonah, could you find something for the two
of you to eat tonight? I’ve got to go and try and get mom ready to
go.”

Jonah nodded still dobbing at his bleeding
nose. “Yah, hey buddy how’s frozen pepperoni pizza sound?” Jonah
questioned. 

“With chocolate syrup?” Mike asked with
hopeful eyes. 

“Would we eat it any other way?” 

“Nope! Not me! Super chocolate monster to the
rescue!” Michael jumped up on a chair, and leapt off as he made
flying sounds, heading for the refrigerator. How resilient the boy
was. 

Gwen made her way up the elegant staircase to
her parents’ bedroom and tapped lightly on the French doors. “Come
in,” her mother answered quietly. Gwen entered slowly to see Janie
lying on her plush king sized bed, eyes closed smiling away. She
had a fat lip and was wearing a disheveled white blood stained
robe. 

“Hey, Mom I was just coming up to see if you
were planning on going to Mike’s parent teacher conferences?
They’re tonight, remember?” Gwen asked optimistically. 

“Oh, sure dear. That sounds great,” she
answered eyes remaining closed…still smiling. Janie began to sway
to some music that existed only in her damaged mind. 

Gwen sighed. “Come on mom let’s get your
clothes changed, ok? We really need you to go to this meeting. This
is our last chance remember? Before they call the Department of
Human Services?” Gwen reminded. 

Her mother burst into tears and grabbed her
daughter hysterically, pulling Gwen into the bed beside her. Gwen
stroked her mother’s beautiful auburn hair, shorter, but matching
her own tones. “Don’t let them take you, Gwenny. Not my babies. Not
my babies,” she repeated over and over through foggy
sobs. 

“Mom, they won’t take us, but you have to
pull yourself together and get down to the school. Please mom.”
Gwen begged. “Mom?” No answer. “Mom?” Again, no answer. Her mother
was passed out. Realizing the situation was hopeless, she pulled
down the covers and tucked her mother into bed. Kissing her creased
forehead, Gwen went into her parents’ bathroom. Glass was strewn
all over the floor and clothes were everywhere. The room was turned
upside down. Gwen tip toed over the mess, found a washcloth and wet
it. She made her way back to her mother and washed up her bloody
lip. Setting the washcloth on the nightstand, Gwen sighed and
reluctantly walked down the hall into her own bedroom, mentally
preparing herself to meet Mike’s teacher…again. 

Her room was large, a typical suburban
teenager’s room with walls a mixture of bright pink and zebra
print. They served as a reminder of happier years, when she was
just that, a teenager.  Gwen rummaged through her large
closet, attempting to pick out the most mature looking ensemble she
could find. After several failed attempts she settled on a pair of
black slacks and an ivory short sleeved turtle neck and examined
herself in the mirror. It would do, she thought. 

Tucking her silky hair behind her ear, she
let her mind wander to a typical Friday night sophomore year when
the same crispness danced in the air and the town was in the middle
of football season, a sport they lived and breathed for. The store
fronts were decorated with window paintings of Parks Point High’s
mascot Lynel the Lion, standing victoriously over his opponent,
usually their rivals, the Belmondt Bison. Gwen looked at the red
glowing numbers on the clock. Five fifty-three. She should be
slathering on lip gloss and adjusting her red and yellow
cheerleading uniform, wondering what cute boy she was going to
flirt with or stunts her team would perform, not devising a plan of
how to keep her and her brothers out of the system. A sick feeling
rose in her throat. How would she explain her parents absence this
time? 

Just then something thumped against her
balcony doors, startling her out of her self-doubt. Walking
cautiously to the large glass doors, she paused, waiting for
another noise to confirm her senses. Hearing nothing, she
cautiously opened the doors, pushed aside her flowing pink
curtains, and tip toed onto the white vinyl balcony.  A bird,
she figured. Placing her shaking hands over the cold thick iron
railing, she leaned over looking for the stunned bird until her
balance began to fade. Must have flown away. 

Gwen surveyed the back garden, sweeping over
the fountain positioned perfectly in the middle. The wind whipped
her shiny hair that sparkled redder in the sunlight, around her
face. She put out her arms and closed her bright green eyes.
Placing a bare foot onto the bottom rail she rose up on her tip
toes, and imagined she was flying, far, far away from her life.
Inhaling deeply, her nerves calmed a little in the brittle
air. 

“That’s a long way down, Gwenny,” Jonah said
slowly from the doorway. Embarrassed, Gwen quickly turned around,
composing herself. 

Blushing she muttered. “Just pretending, felt
good to feel the rush of the wind.” Gwen smiled half-heartedly.
“Where’s Michael?” 

“Watching cartoons. Superman, I think.” They
both grinned. 

“That show is rubbish, you know,” Gwen
teased. 

“So I’ve heard,” he nodded his head flipping
his midnight hair out of his eyes. “Gwen, really, what are we going
to do? They’re going to call social services, and they’ll
investigate. You know they’ll find out what’s going on with the
‘rents. It’ll be plastered everywhere. District attorney drunken
man whore and wife pill popping lunatic, neglect children. Mike
can’t be shipped off to some foster home. He needs us.” 

“I know, Jon. I’m going to try and convince
Mrs. Collins mom is sick again, though last time she said the
excuse wouldn’t work anymore, it’s worth a try.” Gwen smoothed her
pants once more in the mirror. “I’ll be back around eight. Mike
needs a bath, it’s been a couple days, give him one for
me?” 

“Sure.” Jonah looked at his feet rubbing some
invisible lint around with his toes. 

“It’s going to be okay, Jonah, I promise,
have I let you down before?” she positively questioned. 

“No.  This shouldn’t be up to you,” he
proclaimed still looking down, tears starting to well in his
beautiful cloud like eyes. 

Gwen hugged her brother, now her height. “I
love you too,” she whispered, hot tears beginning to sting her
cheeks. Leaving in a purposeful hurry Gwen slid on some black flats
and got into her shiny red jeep, beginning her nerve racking path
to the school. 

Driving rather erratically, she finally
arrived at Park Point Elementary School. The sign might as well
have been written in blood. She parked and, putting her head on the
black leather steering wheel, she prayed, “God, if you are real,
please, please let this turn out alright.” 

In the empty halls of the school, Gwen walked
briskly, replaying what she was going to say in her mind. The
school smelled of a mixture of Tempra paint and sweat, a familiar
scent from her childhood. Finally, she arrived at Mrs. Collins
classroom door. It was covered in bees made of construction paper,
with each child’s photo glued where the face would be. “My busy
bee’s,” it read.  She contemplated turning around, but seeing
Mike’s smiling face on the paper bee’s body she forced herself to
knock on the door. 

It opened quickly. “Gwendolyn, I um, I was
expecting your mother or father.” Mrs. Collins peeked her blond
head around Gwen searching for one of the two down the barren
hallway. She smelled like warm vanilla and cinnamon, just as Gwen
had remembered her.

“Um, my mother is sick and my father just
couldn’t get away from work,” she lied. “They sent me instead,” she
added with a fake smile on her uncertain face. 

The teacher sighed in acceptance. “Gwen,
sweetie, come in.” Mrs. Collins was one of Gwen’s very favorite
teachers and Gwen one of her best students. Gwendylon sat down in a
brightly colored, too short, elementary school chair. The teacher
was a tall thin woman with shoulder length bright blond hair that
flipped out perfectly at the bottom. She adjusted her electric pink
square glasses that complemented her bright pink and blue floral
knee length dress. The woman began. “I know something’s going on at
home, Gwen. You can talk to me. I remember your mother being so
involved when you were young. She was on the PTA and never missed a
meeting. She was a little less present with your brother, but now
with Michael, she hasn’t even made it to one meeting…in three
years. I’ve called numerous times and always get the machine.” She
crossed and uncrossed her long slender legs. “Are you okay?” she
asked as if to peer through Gwen’s false exterior.

“I um, yes, I am fine Mrs. Collins, really I
am. Mom’s just been off since you know, Emma died.” Emma Darling
was the happiest three-year-old anyone could find. She was the
spitting image of Gwen. Curly auburn pig tails always adorned with
extra-large bows. She was rarely seen without a smile on her round
little face. Janie was so involved then, so loving, so motherly. It
had been four years since Emma was killed by a drunk driver. Her
mother was holding on to the stroller with one hand and mailing a
letter with the other when the truck came up on the sidewalk. It
ripped Emma’s stroller out of Janie Darlings hand. The littlest
Darling had gotten crushed between the brick wall of the post
office and the front of a Ford F-150 before her mother’s
eyes. 

“I am required by law to report any instances
of neglect or abuse, you know, Gwen?” Mrs. Collins shifted uneasily
in her chair. 

“I know, and really if there was anything
going on I would let you know,” she lied through her
teeth. 

“Gwen, you shouldn’t have to take all of this
on. You’re just eighteen. Michael is very young. He needs his
mother and father…” she took off her glasses and continued
tenderly. “Gwen, I don’t believe everything is okay, but I also
know the kind of young woman you are. I know you love your siblings
dearly. Michael is well taken care of physically, and he’s very
bright, it’s just some of his stories and this obsession with being
invisible isn’t normal for a boy his age. He

doesn’t play with the other children often.
We need to work on his social skills and get him a little more into
reality.”

“I know, Mrs. Collins and I assure you I - I
mean, we, are working on it.” Gwen held back tears.

The blond teacher reluctantly continued.
“Alright. I will let you and your parents, work on this.” She
agreed. “But Gwen, please if you need anything, I mean anything,
call me.” She wrote her number down neatly on a piece of lined
paper, ripped it off, and gave it to Gwen.   

Gwen felt as if her heart would pump right
out of her chest, “Thank you Mrs. Collins, and I will. It was nice
to see you.” 

She leapt up and made a beeline for the door.
Walking briskly down the hallway she dodged groups of parents with
her head down. Don’t cry. Do not cry in front of these people.
You’re almost there. Smile. She felt like she could take off
sprinting at any moment. Once safely inside her red jeep, she
inhaled deeply, trying to control her shaking hands.  Looking
back, she saw  Mrs. Collins peering out her classroom window.
Gwen waved and plastered on her best fake smile pulling out of the
parking lot. 

She was thankful it was beginning to get
dark. Darkness would make it harder for Mrs. Collins to see the
torment hiding behind her smiling mask. She felt hot tears begin to
build in her eyes when she came to the stop light. She let go.
Tears streamed down her face, running her mascara. 

Dreading her “suburban house of hell” as
Jonah had so tactfully put it, she made a last minute left out of
town.  After a long drive, her jeep came to a gravel lane that
led to a thick forest of trees. 

Gwen parked and got out into the tall grass.
The brisk fall air met her sweet warm breath and formed clouds of
delicate smoke.  She tromped through towering weeds, listening
to the sounds of the forest. Walking faster and faster Gwen found
herself running full speed under branches and over thick roots of
trees. She ran as if her life would be lost behind her until
finally she tripped over one of the large barky brown elbows that
held the giant trees in place, landing flat on her face. Pushing
herself up she examined her now scraped elbow and began to look for
her shoe. Blood trickled down her arm. No shoe in sight. She sat
back in the grass with her knees pulled up to her chest and began
to sob. Tears rolled down her cheeks like water from an eve spout
in the midst of a heavy rain. 

How had her life become this? She was happy
once. She had friends at one time and cared about boys and clothes,
dances, and cheerleading. She had a bubbly mother who made her
cinnamon toast before school and always packed a chocolate Kiss in
her backpack.  This mother used to care about her grades, had
expectations, and dreams for her family. She told the best night
time stories of worlds far away from here filled with pirates,
princesses, mermaids and magic. Her father, though always strict,
thought the world of his wife and children, was always home on
time, and greeted each member of his family with a warm hug and
requests of knowing the happenings of their days. She bit her
luscious bottom lip and pressed her hands to her aching
forehead. 

“You know, it’s a lot easier to get around
out here with both of your shoes.” She heard a boy’s voice behind
her. Terrified, Gwen jumped up and turned around. Indeed it was a
boy, around her age, she guessed. He had shaggy brown hair and
large emerald green eyes. His square jaw and slightly pointed chin
were the perfect ending to the rest of his beautiful boyish face.
Large muscles bulged out from under his tight black shirt.
Herculean thighs swelled beneath distressed blue jeans that gave
way to stylish black shoes. He dangled a black slipper like shoe
from his thick finger. “I’m assuming this is yours?” he stated, one
eyebrow cocked, peering at her bare left foot.