Anxious

Chapter 9: Falcon Lager

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"But I don't wanna take a bath, Mama."

"Yes, ya do, Les. Don't you want your hair to be shiny? Don't you wanna smell pretty?" 

Five year old Leslie wrinkled her nose. "No, I wanna stay stinky," she giggled as her mother patted her butt.

"Get up them stairs now, I already drew your bath water."

Leslie climbed the stairs slowly, one at a time. Before she could get into the bathroom, she heard a man's voice. Of course, curiosity won and she snuck back down a few steps to listen.

"It's taken care of, my love. But I got a few loose ends to tie up, and you know, I can't keep coming around like this. Probably the reason he found us to begin with."

"But I can't do this without you, baby." Little Les heard her mother start to cry.

"Look what almost happened to you and Baby Girl!!"

"I know what almost happened to us!! An' if you hadn't been here to save us..." She started to sob hard.

"But what if I'm the reason he showed up in the first place, darling? We gatta think about Les first. I know you know that, I know how much you love her, baby."

Sheryl wouldn't answer.

"Well, I love her, too.  And I love you, but I gatta get them off our tails. I'll go out to Vegas, leave some shit for them to find, and make some money for you an' Leslie."

The woman with a dark-auburn, pixie haircut sniffled. "What if they come back, babe? And what if you ain't here?"

He lowered his voice; tiny Leslie had to climb down a few more steps, and strain to hear him. 

"That's why I got you this. You keep this on you at all times, and hidden from Baby Girl. They won't come back. Trust me, lady."

"I do trust you, I just miss you! I don't wanna be alone!"

"You won't be alone, baby. You have Leslie. And I'll be back, just not as often. I'll still be here for you, and for her. I promise."

Child-sized Leslie heard a chair move so she scurried up the stairs and into her bath. She washed up quickly and got her towel. She brushed her teeth and dressed in the pjs that her mom had left out. She looked for her hairbrush, when her mother walked in, with it in hand. 

"Did you wash behind your ears?" Sheryl asked as they walked to Leslie's room.

"A course, Mama!," she beamed. They sat together on her bed while her mother brushed her long, brown hair softly. The young, clearly burdened parent definitely looked like she'd been crying.

"You OK, Mama?"

"I'm fine, honey."

"You look sad. I'm sorry, Mama."

"I'm OK, sweetie. Really. Now, get under the covers. You want the TV on?"

"No. Ya know what, Mama?" she said sleepily. 

She leaned over, swept little Leslie's hair out of her eyes with her finger, and kissed her forehead. "What, hun?"

"I wish we had a daddy."

Sheryl let a tear slide down her face. "Me too, Baby Girl. Me too."

****

She felt awful. Her head pounded through her ears. She didn't even attempt to open her eyes. Who knows where I am this time. There were blankets over her, and a fluffy material under her; not hospital sheets at all. She slowly peeked out of one eye.