Falling

Fifteen (Rejection)

The black SUV's engine purrs in my ears like a big cat. Trip is handling the steering but my brain is lost in a gray fog that's come rolling in like the morning fog that hides the beach.

It's like I'm moving through a gray tunnel. I hear Trip say something from the large end of a shimmering tube.

Fog is enveloping, like transparent fingers pulling me back into the the essence of her sweet breath. Ebony eyes gather my vision, then melt into pools of ink spewing into my mind, taking what she wishes.

The light goes out.

"We be here," Trip's voice shakes me out of the tunnel.

The black SUV rolls up in front of the Kitchen.

"Thanks, Trip," I hear my mouth repeat.

"No problem. Boss Man say's I be at ya service." His words seem closer now. I'm back.

I push the door open and slip across warm leather. I smile and give a nod.

Gravel crunches under my feet as I steer my way to the back of the building and hide behind a stack of boxes.

"Where have you been?"

Mary's husky form is parked a step away from where I landed. Her hands are forcefully parked on sturdy hips.

A cold sliver of icy breath seizes the inside of my body.

I take one step toward her. "Well...You see...I overslept," I try to meekly explain.

"Where would that be? Cus you an't been sleep'n in your own bed!"

The fire in her eyes is burning into my face, like a cop trying to pry the truth out of an uncooperative suspect.

"Has you been with that girl...Lyla?" She says, like she's accusing me of a crime.

"Well...Actually..." I look into her face.

"And don't you be putt'n that eye on me! Ya hear?"

I look away. "Yeah. I guess I was," I return serve—all humbled.

"What have ya been up to, Sam?"

Mary takes a step forward and puts her face up close. Her breath smells of mint.

"You see...There's this guy...Called Boss Man...And he's..."

"Boss Man! Did I hears you right?"

"Well...Yes...He's going to donate a..."

"Oh no he don't. That gang man ain't come'n near this place! He's nothin' but a no good scoundrel!"

She steps back like she's just smelled some disgusting thing.

"I'm sorry, Mary. I just lost count of the time." I look up. I feel my face sagging around the hurt inside.

Her face seems to gather a bit toward her nose. She bites her lower lip as if she's trying not to be overly harsh.

"I know'ed it! He sent that Jezebel over hear to steal ya away!"

Her eyes narrow as if a sudden recognition of a grand truth has just popped into her head.

"He knows you got the eye." Her mouth opens with a gasp, like the world was coming to an end.

"Yeah. I guess he does. But, he wants me to help him make peace with the gangs." Did I just say that?

Mary's hands come flying off her hips. She steps forward and points her finger into my face.

"You goin' to have to be make'n a choice, young man! It's either that Boss Man or you work'n at the Kitchen!"

Her lips squeeze together like she'd just taken a giant bite of a lemon.

"But...but...I'm going to donate his money to the Kitchen," I reply, pleading.

Ice is running through my veins and welling up in my eyes.

"Please, Mary. Don't make it like this!"

"You decide!" She turns and walks away.

I'm frozen. I can't move. The inside of my head is stuck, like its frozen in a big chunk of ice. I don't want to give up either one.

This room, above the Kitchen, that has been my home for several months now, doesn't seem to know me anymore. It's white walls stand in silent acquiescence to my move.

A backpack rests on the bed without protest. It yawns open and eagerly accepts the folded clothes that I'm slowly pushing into it's unconscious space. I just need to get away for a while and think.

I pull out the one little drawer that silently hides in the wooden table, a place for one lamp to stand. I better leave this little book for the next person who occupies this room. This is where it belongs.

I walk down the stairs into the shadowy space behind the Kitchen where the food supplies are kept. I slide my right hand along the top edge of one of the brown cardboard boxes. I notice a couple of volunteers out front dropping cans of food into waiting bags. A tear escapes one of my eyes, lingering for a fleeting moment, then dropping onto my cold cheek. I quickly wipe it away.

"Where ya go-in, Sam?" Toby looks up from a box he's unloading.

"Just taking a couple of days off," I reply. The words drop at my feet.

"Sam!"

It's Mary. A ray of hope slips its emotion into my mind. Maybe she's changed her mind.

"Yes!" I turn around.

She's holding the little book in her outstretched hand.

"You forgot this," her voice cracks.

I reach out and take the book. A silent moment stretches between us before she releases it. Her eyes are soft as if asking for one more chance to make everything right again.

"I hope you be come'n back." She quickly turns.

Hushed snuffles tell me she's been crying.

I stuff the little book into an empty pocket on the outside of my backpack and walk out the back door.

Boss Man? Lyla?