Hope and Faith

SEVENTY-FIVE: FAITH

Faith awoke on Wednesday morning feeling groggy and tired. She had spent the night tucked away in bed, crying and feeling her heart ache for Hope. She couldn't stop thinking about how they were treating her, what she was going through, how scared and alone she must feel.

But it was a new day. She needed to get up and go to school. Continue on pretending that everything was okay, despite what day it was.

Faith went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. When she looked up and glanced at her reflection, she didn't recognize the girl staring back. Her face was pale and her eyes were bloodshot. She was a mess. Her exterior matched how she was feeling internally.

She made her way down the stairs. When she arrived in the kitchen, she was taken back. There, covering the table, was an array of balloons and presents.

"Happy Birthday!" her mother yelled as Faith entered the kitchen.
"Thanks."
"Oh, honey, come here," her mother walked towards her and hugged her tightly. "I know things haven't been the best for you lately, but try to be happy. Just for today. Okay?"
Faith nodded.
"Now come on and eat," Claudia ushered her towards the table. "I made pancakes."

_______

After she finished eating breakfast, Faith asked her mother for a particular birthday gift: to stay home from school. Claudia hesitated, weighing out her options, but ultimately said yes. Under normal circumstances Claudia would have forced her daughter to go to school. But it was only the second week. And it was the least she could do for her birthday.

The elephant in the room that no one dared speak about – which was Faith's mood as of late – was a major determining factor in Claudia's decision. She had seen her daughter's disposition decline drastically over the last few weeks and it made her feel hopeless. She thought, maybe this one small favour – staying home from school on her birthday – would make her feel better.

Claudia clung to Faith that morning, suffocating her in ways that only a mother could. She brought out the photo albums, talked about the day Faith was born. "I can't believe you're already seventeen!"

But after a while, it became apparent that all Faith wanted to do was be alone. So Claudia left her to it, allowing her to sequester herself in her bedroom for the remainder of the day.

Faith sat on her bed and contemplated her existence. She thought about her life and all of her years up until this point. All of the people she knew (and didn't know), all of the places she'd been, the things she'd seen, opportunities (and lack of) that she had. She was seventeen now. Only one more year until she was legally an adult. And then she could make her own decisions. Do whatever she pleased. Move wherever she wanted.

But all of those things seemed like something of a very distant future; a future that Faith couldn't picture quite clearly. It was like looking through fogged glasses. She could get a rough idea of what it looked like, but even when she squinted hard, she couldn't quite make it out.

She tried to think about her childhood, what her birthdays were like back then. She remembered sitting on the couch, squished between Mike and Grace. She and her sister used to dress Mike up and pretend he was a girl. They even got into their mother's make up stash once and decorated his entire face. Their father wasn't impressed, to say the least.

Claudia made homemade cakes every year for each of their birthdays. Faith loved The Little Mermaid, so her cakes were always ocean themed with images of Ariel, Sebastian, and Flounder.

She remembered the singing, the dancing, the family and friends who came to visit. She remembered feeling happy, content even. When you're a kid, birthdays are the greatest day of the entire year. You look forward to it all year long, anticipating the joy and the presents, the idea of turning another year older. But now, at only seventeen, Faith was wishing that she could slow down time. She didn't want to age, didn't want to grow up and get old. How could her thoughts be such an oxymoron? How could she long for the future, yet resent it simultaneously?

Perhaps what she wanted was not the future, but another time, another life. She wanted to stay young and seventeen forever, but she also wanted the freedom and responsibility that came with being an adult. She didn't want to grow up.

Faith also realized that there was nothing special about birthdays whatsoever. So what – she was pushed out of her mother's vagina on this day seventeen years ago... big whoop. It's not like she did anything memorable or worthwhile. If anything, it was her mother who needed to be celebrated on this day. It was her mother who went through all the work of bringing her into this word. All Faith did was exist. And nothing inherently good came ever since then.

She was being cynical, she knew this. And yet, she couldn't stop the thoughts from coming. Couldn't stop the constant noise that radiated from inside of her brain. She thought of Hope; what Hope would say if she was here. What Hope would do.

Hope would agree. She'd say that Faith was being a cynical pessimist and that she needed to lighten up. "It's your birthday!" Hope would say. "Have some cake and celebrate!"

Could Faith try to do that? Enjoy her special day and not think about the negatives? If anything, she could try. And she would try for Hope.

After lunch, Faith opened some presents. Her mother had gotten her some new clothes, a comfier chair for her desk, and a set of bookends for her bookshelf. She also received cards full of well-wishes and money from relatives.

"Nanna and poppa are coming up this weekend," Claudia explained. "They look forward to seeing you both."

Faith opened her gift bag from Mike. She pulled out a bottle of tequila, a black scarf, and a set of sketching pencils.

Her eyes lit up and she turned to her brother. "Thank you," she said to him, "I love it." And she truly meant it. It was a gift that proved her brother knew her. It wasn't just a bunch of things that someone chucked together last minute, or an expensive gift that someone believed was worthy but meant nothing. It was a gift that said: I know you, I love you, and I accept you.

The next few hours went by blissfully slow. Faith sat around the television with her mother watching home videos from when she was a baby. Mike made popcorn and laughed at the footage of Faith stumbling around in diapers, saying mama, shoving cake all over her face.

There was a video of Faith as a baby and Mike as a toddler. Mike wandered over to Faith to say hello, and she threw her toy at his head. Mike began crying and ran off. There was another clip of Mike heading over to baby Faith, yet again, only to have her whack him in the face with both hands when he got too close.

"Some things never change," Faith winked at him.
"Yeah, you're still a little shit, since the day you were born."
The telephone rang and Claudia excused herself from the living room, placing the bowl of popcorn in Mike's lap and heading into the kitchen.
"I don't recall you ever being a terrible child," Faith said. "But then again, I was younger than you."
"What do you remember?"
"Not much. My earliest memories are from when I was five and six. And they're mostly of spending time with Grace."
"The days before you came along were wonderful," Mike said. "Grace and I had so much fun."
"Shut up, there was only a year and a half before I was there too."
"Still," he laughed. "It was great."
"Yeah right," Faith threw the pillow at him.
Just then, Claudia returned to the living room, but something was different. All Faith could remember from that moment was that Mike was about to throw the pillow back at her, but they both stopped, as though the air in the room had changed. Faith looked at her mother, and she knew, in that moment, that something was wrong. What she didn't know, however, was that her world was about to change.