Tessa (From Fear to Faith) (4 page)

6

I
awoke to the familiar sound of my own coughing. My bedroom was dim, lit only by what little daylight permeated the drawn window shade. Flashes of things from the night before swept my mind like strobe lights. Confused voices, bright lights, someone pounding me on the back. Muffled arguing that droned on and on. And my own desperate attempts to escape an intangible terror. Had it been only last night? It seemed like weeks ago.

Pushing back the covers, I stared bleary-eyed at my denim-clad legs. What was I doing in bed fully dressed? My eyes were watering so profusely I could hardly see. I slid out of bed and managed to stand up, but the room wobbled and turned around me in a slow, drunken motion. I blinked, trying to clear my vision and get my bearings. Hadn’t I taken a shower last night? My clothes, my hands, everything was filthy. My eyes locked onto an ugly raw spot on my left hand near my thumb. About the size of a half dollar, the wound had blistered like a burn and was stinging like fire. What on earth had
happened?

I collapsed onto the bed as another fit of coughing shook me. Even lying down, the room was spinning. My throat burned as if I had a bad cold. Was I dying? I recalled the strange dizziness of the night before. Maybe the fumes had grown so powerful they’d knocked me out. I pictured Walter returning late and unlocking the door to find me slumped behind it, cold and dead. Maybe that was what had happened. But then how could I still be alive? Was I alive?

I tried to shake off the irrational thoughts that clung like cobwebs in my mind. I had to find a way out of working in that stupid drug lab before it was too late.

But what could I do? I had tried everything – running away, hiding out in the basement, faking illness, outright refusal. I had even tried appealing to Mom, but for whatever reason, she turned a deaf ear to me. I couldn’t talk to the police. Walter had made it clear that if I did, we’d both end up in prison, but first he’d kill me. Was suicide the only option I had left?

Tears slipped down my face.
Sure my life sucks, but I don’t want to die! There’s got to be another way.
But in my weakened state, the only thing I could think of was to talk to Mom again. Somehow I had to make her understand.

It took me several hours to muster enough willpower to get out of bed again. I tugged on a cleaner pair of jeans, swiped a damp washcloth across my face, and stumbled out to the kitchen.

I found Mom at the table, dozing over a cold cup of coffee. She stirred and yawned when I entered. “Oh good, you’re up. How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess.” I was scared to say more. Suppose she belittled or laughed off what had happened? Avoiding her gaze, I sank into an empty chair and pulled a banana from the bunch in the center of the table. I pulled back the yellow peel and took a bite, but all I could taste was ammonia.

Mom poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, added a pinch of sugar, and stirred it. “You had me pretty worried last night. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’d be a lot more okay if Walter wouldn’t keep dragging me off to work in his stupid drug house.” The words tumbled out faster than I could think.

“Tessa!” Mom scolded. “Watch what you say. What if somebody heard you?”

“I don’t care. I’m sick of pretending.” My voice choked. “Maybe we should just get arrested and be done with it.” I bent my head and coughed painfully.

“Look, Tess, I’m really sorry this happened. But why in heaven’s name didn’t you tell me what was going on? I never would’ve allowed such a thing.”

I stared at her, trying to make my eyes focus. “So now it’s my fault, huh?”

“No, Tess. I just wish you would’ve told me.” She shook her head and toyed with the corner of the tablecloth. “I figured he was up to something, but I had no idea it was this bad. I’m sorry. I’ll see that it doesn’t happen anymore.”

I was silent. I wanted to scream that it was all her fault for not listening to me, but I couldn’t seem to organize my thoughts. Had whatever happened last night damaged my brain?

Mom downed her coffee, then yawned again. “This stuff isn’t working. I’ve got to lie down before this headache kills me. If you’re up to it, maybe you could wash some of those dishes.”

I couldn’t believe it. I was sick and so dizzy I could hardly stand up, and she was putting me to work because she had a headache? But I forced my anger down. I needed to be on Mom’s good side when Walter came home.

“I suppose I could work on it,” I muttered, “but I’m gonna take a shower first.” As bad as I smelled, I wondered that she hadn’t mentioned it.

I took a long shower, savoring the feel of the hot water spraying on my back. As I relaxed, some of the weariness and misery of the last twenty-four hours slipped away. If only the dizziness would leave with it. I’d be doing well to get through the dishes without blacking out. Why had I agreed to do them?

By the time I returned to the kitchen, it was almost noon. I made a face at the sink full of dirty dishes submerged in cold gray dishwater. Couldn’t Mom at least have let the water out yesterday? I reached in and released the drain, then ran fresh water. But as I was carrying a stack of dishes from the table, I tripped over the vacuum cleaner. A glass serving bowl fell to the floor and smashed.

Sweat broke out on my palms. Mom would be mad if she found out about this. I grabbed the broom and swept up the scattered pieces, then tipped the garbage can and slid the pieces in as quietly as I could. With luck, maybe Mom would blame Walter for the missing bowl.

I had just replaced the lid on the garbage can when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I drew a sharp breath and froze. Walter stood blocking the doorway, his hands on his hips.

“Can’t you ever keep from breaking things?” he demanded. “What’s the matter with you!”

“I-I’m sorry.” I took a few steps backward.

“Sorry doesn’t fix anything. What the hell were you doing last night? Trying to blow the place up? You had enough fuel spilled in there to burn a whole city!” As he spoke he advanced on me, cornering me in front of the pantry.

I was so terrified I couldn’t think. I could smell his foul breath as he yelled at me, his face inches from mine. Black shadows danced on the edges of my vision. My head swam.

“What’s going on here?” Clad only in a thin nightgown, her long hair tousled from sleep, Mom pushed in between Walter and me.

Walter gave her a shove. “Get outta here.”

She came right back at him. “Suppose you tell me what you’re so mad about.”

“None of your business! Now bug off!”

“If it’s last night, she’s had more than enough punishment already. Isn’t it enough for you that she could’ve died?” I felt her arm tighten around my shoulders. “Now leave her alone or you’ll be sorry.”

“You crazy…” With both hands, Walter grabbed the stack of dirty dishes off the counter and smashed it on her feet.

“Fine. Have it your way!” he screamed. “You can coddle your spoiled little brat all you want. But don’t you dare blame me next time, you hear?” He stomped toward the back door.

“There won’t be a next time!” she screamed back, as the door slammed behind him. Releasing me, she limped through the mess of broken china to the nearest chair. She removed her right slipper and shook off the tiny shards of glass. There was a purple lump the size of a walnut on top of her foot. “Could be worse, anyway,” she muttered, and swore. “He didn’t hurt you, did he, Tess?”

I shook my head. I was so dizzy I didn’t dare let go of the counter.

“You look terrible. Come on, let’s try to get you to the couch.”

It felt good to lie down, although it was a long time before I began to relax. Not knowing how long Walter would be gone didn’t help. I kept thinking I heard his truck drive in.

Mom called me around four o’clock for an early supper. I felt better than I had that morning, but by the time the meal was over, I was again too dizzy to walk straight. I sprawled out on the couch, letting the warm rays of late-afternoon sun slant across my face. Try as I did, I could not think of a single thing I wanted to do. Even watching TV seemed like too much bother. Maybe I should turn the TV off. It might be pleasant to sit in the quiet.

Suddenly, there was a loud rapping at the front door. I jerked upright. Mom hurried around the corner, her hands still dripping suds. “Get down the basement,” she ordered.

7

S
omething in her tone caused me to obey without hesitation. My heart pounded as I crouched in the dim stairwell. I pressed an ear against the door and listened. If it was the police, I would flee down the steps and hide behind the dryer.

“Good evening,” said a man’s deep voice. “We’re your neighbors down the road there in the yellow house, just moved in a couple weeks ago. We thought we’d stop and say hello. I’m Tom Erickson, and this is my wife, Patty.”

Mom’s reply was guarded. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Julie. I’d ask you in, but Walter’s not here and as you see, the place is kind of a mess.”

“That’s fine,” said Tom. “We just wanted to let you know we’re around.”

Mom’s tone grew friendlier. “That’s nice of you. Most people wouldn’t bother. You know, why don’t you two stay a bit and have some coffee. Never mind the mess.”

I blinked in surprise. Had she really said that? As far as I knew, visitors were not allowed into the house under any circumstances. Walter met friends and furniture customers out in his shop, and Mom talked to the occasional seller of dollar candy bars through the screen.

I vividly recalled the lesson I’d learned a few years earlier. I had invited my best friend home with me after school so I could show her my music box. To my ten-year-old mind, it seemed natural – didn’t everybody invite friends over to play? Apparently not. Janet hadn’t been in the house two minutes before Mom appeared and tore into me like I’d committed murder. I ran to my room crying, and Janet spent the rest of her short visit sitting on the front steps waiting for her mom. I never tried it again.

Curious what was going on now, I eased the door open and stole around the corner into the kitchen. If I stood behind the table in just the right place, I could see everything that happened in the living room reflected in the glass doors of the china cupboard.

Mom was settled in Walter’s easy chair, smoking and talking enthusiastically. Occupying the couch across from her was a well-dressed middle-aged couple. They sipped their coffee and tried to act interested as she carried on about her favorite soap stars, the best way to grow hollyhocks, and why it was a total waste of time to keep tropical fish. I could tell Mom was enjoying the rare opportunity to talk to someone. But after about ten minutes of this one-sided conversation, the visitors began to fidget.

“Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting to get home,” Mom said, pausing to take a drag on her cigarette.

The visitors exchanged glances. “Actually,” said Tom, “as long as we’re here, there’s something I’d like to ask you. Do you believe in God?”

Mom’s face stiffened. She blew out a cloud of smoke, blinked a couple of times, and said, “Sure I do. What did you think I was, an atheist?” She forced a laugh.

“Have you heard how Jesus came to earth and died for our sins?”

Mom interrupted him. “Yes, of course. You’re talking about Christmas. Which reminds me. I was gonna tell you, since you’re new around here, don’t buy a tree from that used-car place on the edge of town. We did two years ago, and the thing was practically dead. Waste of money, not to mention a fire hazard.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Tom said. “But you know the whole reason for Christmas is to celebrate the birth of Jesus. He came to forgive our sins and give us a new life. We all need His forgiveness. No one can live pleasing to God or get to heaven without it.”

Mom shrugged. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Maybe you people need it, but don’t look at me. I live a pretty good life.”

“Would you like to see what the Bible has to say about it?”

“I don’t have one.”

“That’s okay. I’ve got one here in my coat pocket.”

Mom stood up. “Look, it’s been nice talking to you guys, but I’ve got stuff I gotta do.”

“Mind if we leave you a tract?”

She shrugged again. “Suit yourself.”

Patty unzipped her purse and pulled out a small green booklet. “You’ll like it,” she said. “It’s a testimony of someone who didn’t know the Lord and then turned to Him. It’s a good story.”

Mom stuck the booklet in her back pocket. “Well, thanks. I suppose you’ll be leaving now.”

“Yes, we’d better go,” Tom agreed.

“I forgot your husband’s name,” Patty said, as she pulled on her coat.

“Walter.” Mom stood holding the door open, clearly impatient for them to leave.

“And are you in the phone book in case we ever need to get a hold of you?”

“Last I saw. The name is Miner
.
”

It was with obvious relief that Mom shut the door behind them and returned to finish the dishes. “Some of those crazy religious people,” she told me, dumping their leftover coffee down the drain. “If I’d known that, I would’ve made them bad coffee.”

“Bad coffee?” I asked, curious whether this oft-made threat of hers had any real power. “How do you make that?”

“Don’t ask.” She laughed. “It’s my private recipe. All I can say is, I don’t even think Walter would drink it.”

“What’s the booklet they gave you?” If it was a story, I wanted to read it.

“What booklet?” Her voice was sharp now. “If you’re well enough to stand there and talk, maybe you can dry some dishes.”

“Never mind.” I turned and walked out of the kitchen. I could not understand Mom’s irritation with religious people. Even if she didn’t care to talk about God, why act so threatened at the mere mention of him?

I spent the rest of the evening hiding out in my room in case Walter returned. He had been known to pick me up for work as late as eleven. I lay down, but I couldn’t fall asleep. My mind spun in relentless worry. Would Mom keep her promise to stop Walter if he did show up? Could she stop him? What if she didn’t? More than once I leaped to my feet in fright, thinking I heard Walter’s truck. But each time, it turned out to be just another noisy vehicle on the road.

Eleven o’clock finally came. Water roared in the pipes as Mom filled the tub for a bath. Later I heard the familiar sound of her padding down the hallway to the living room to watch a late show. Could it be Walter wasn’t going to come home tonight after all?

I rose and peered out the window one last time, as if to reassure myself that all was clear. I then stretched out on the shaggy white rug beside my bed to do some serious thinking. I needed a plan.