Fault

Part 16

Fallon Connelly 2:10 p.m.

We turn the corner onto a street that seems to have drawn the washed out sun's eye. The colorless sidewalks glow fiercely and I close my eyes, soaking the white through my eyelids. When my parents were together, and their fights reached decibels higher than I could shut out by sticking my head under my pillow, I would climb out onto the rusted fire escape outside my window. I dangled my legs over the edge, and only a few times did I let myself imagine falling the four flights to the pavement. Eventually I would raise my face, close my eyes and let the pure radiance and warmth of the sun wash out the darkness.

"Do you see that?" Cal asks.

I open my eyes slowly, blinking into focus. Halfway down the street, facing our direction, is a young girl. She's the only person in sight. I start walking toward her with Cal close behind me. Our footsteps are heavy on the pavement.

The girl can't be any older than eight, and as she stands on the spider web cracks in the sidewalk, she stares at me. Her white shirt is ripped across her shoulder and the sleeve is stretched down to her elbow. As I get closer the red-smudged imprint of four long streaks in the dangling fabric, like imprints of slender fingers, becomes clear. I quickly scan her skin for a cut and see nothing. Where did the blood come from then? My jaw clenches.

The girl is still watching me. Her hair is in rows of tight braids, the work of time and patience. Her eyes are freshly pressed copper pennies and the darkness of her skin cuts sharp edges against the dull backdrop of the sidewalk.

The destroyed building she stands in front of is a liquor store. The L, I and Q are gone but the message is still clear. A poster advertising a sale on vodka floats on a pool of glass at my feet. I recognize the brand. The red brick façade pours out onto the sidewalk and into the street. She stands amongst it, like the building is a snow bank she is emerging from in the dead of winter. I bend to bring my eyes to her level.

"Are you okay?" I ask. My voice is raw.

Her small jaw tightens. I look back and see Cal, squatting to turn a brick over in his hands. When I bring my gaze back to the girl I'm startled to find that her eyes are firmly on me.

Her thin arms hang at her sides and I squint to see that her left fist is closed around something. A strap. The strap leads to a gray purse on the ground behind her.

"Are you alone?" I ask.

At this, her eyes finally fall from mine and cast back to the liquor store. I'm about to question whether or not she's mute when her soft voice slides into the breeze between us.

"Mama," she says.

I move to follow her stare but I can't see anyone through the shattered door. From this angle I can see toppled aisles with bricks and bottles littering the floor.

"Is your mama in there?"

She looks through the doorway still, clearly seeing something I can't, and tightens the fist around the purse strap.

"Mama's gone," she says.

My heartbeat quickens. I feel it against my ribs. The little girl pulls on the strap of the purse, causing it to drag on the ground behind her. The scratching sound it makes when the metal clasp rubs against the pavement sends a chill down my spine.

Cal picks his way carefully over the bricks on his way to the door, following the girl's line of sight. The straps of his backpack swing as he goes. When he gets closer he puts his sleeve to his nose, and as soon as I catch his eyes I see water. It must be from all the spilled liquor inside. It reminds me of the first time he saw my mother's alcoholism.