Worlds Apart

Chapter 2: Old Habits Die Hard

It happened far too often. Waking up in a sweat, I mean. 

I had a 4 AM shift at the diner that morning in September. I had hoped to avoid Charlie at this time, but the dead never sleeps. Charlie was, in a way, the mother of the house, though she wasn't old enough to be most of our mothers. She was only 27. At the time, I hadn't really noticed how low Charlie had dropped. She was skinny. Skinnier than she had been before the summer. And she was barely able to get off the couch without shooting up. She poured a large glass of water in hopes of curing the dry mouth she was suffering from but after she guzzled the whole lot it didn't seem to have made any difference as she went for another round. 

"Where are you off to at this time?" Charlie asked. It was obvious that she was struggling to talk through her short breathes. And I would have been surprised if she could even see me through her constricted pupils. 

"I have a shift at the diner, remember?" I reminded her. I had told her about my early Monday morning shifts countless times but she never remembered, meaning she always questioned me about where I had wandered off to in the middle of the night. 

"Well, don't forget to be back by five for the adoption fair." I groaned but ultimately I had no choice. I left before she could ask anything else of me.

Surprisingly, these early morning shifts were preferred. They were quiet. The only customers in there would mostly keep to themselves. "The usual?"

"You know I can't start my day without it." Father Angelo joined the priesthood at a young age. He would often come to the diner and order a plate of bacon and eggs before his morning prayers. He watched over the children of East Harlem and I knew him well. He possessed far too much wisdom for his age and it was hard not to trust him with your deepest secrets. "What time do you get off?"

"Eight."

"You want to join me after?" he asked. It wasn't hard to assume what the Father was asking. If I was being honest with myself, it had been months since I had attended the church but I found it hard to face God after what He had put me through. I blamed him, though I know I shouldn't have. It was my mother that I should have pinned all the blame to. But she wasn't here and I had not the faintest idea where she was.

"I can't. I've got school after this," I said.

"Maybe another time then." He was polite and well-spoken for someone who grew up where he had. After he had joined the church, most of the neighborhood struggled to recognize him. His hair was shorter and groomed. He was clean-shaven and well-dressed. The exact opposite of his youth.

"Maybe." He and I both knew that maybe wasn't a yes. In my head, I wasn't planning to enter the church until I was in a casket.

"You can't put this off forever. I take it you haven't spoken to Him in a while," he said.

"I know. It's just been so hard since my dad died."

"It will get better. Trust me, Jordan. It will take time and I really think this could help you. More than you may believe." He put his hand on my shoulder in an act of consolation but it wasn't helping.

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Unsurprising to anyone who knew me, I was late to school. The corridors were practically empty, the only people roaming being those that had skipped their first class. I walked in as quietly as I could to my room and sat down in the only available chair. Unfortunately, the only way I was going to sneak under Ms. Nivolelli's nose was to become invisible. "I will let this time slide, Miss. Marcano. But you won't be so lucky in the future."