Hear Me Sin

Chapter Seventeen

Los Angeles, California

INOLA SAT ON THE EDGE OF THE couch, looking at Joshua. His eyes were open and he was staring up at the ceiling. His eyes were red and puffy and he'd been making strange noises for the last ten minutes.

Enrique was stretched out across the other couch, fast asleep. He had only fallen asleep three hours ago while Inola hadn't slept at all. She couldn't just fall asleep in a stranger's house, she had no idea who this man was and still didn't trust him. He had went up to his room and left them down here, but she still didn't feel safe.

When she saw him coming down the stairs, she assumed he liked to be up early. It was minutes to six in the morning, just like it was six in the morning when he arrived at the diner yesterday. He was wearing a wife beater and basketball shorts while she and her kids were still all in their clothes from the night before. He didn't offer them a change of clothes and she wouldn't have accepted it anyway.

 
French came into the living room and stood close by, not realizing his face was slightly screwed up as he watched Joshua. He was now noticing him for the first time. French didn't realize her son was retarded. He did remember the wheelchair but he thought maybe he just got injured or was disabled, but he was a full on retard. He was drooling and staring up at the chandelier in the ceiling.

French wondered why she kept him, he would've been embarrassed. He wasn't a mean person, the slow people were just time consuming.

"Put a towel under him, I don't want him spitting in my couch." He said, annoyed.

Inola was gently brushing his hair, trying to figure out why he was making these growling noises. It could've been a nightmare, his fists and body were clenched tight and he seemed angry about something. French flexed his jaws at Inola ignoring him, when he remembered for the hundredth time she couldn't hear him. It would take some getting use too.

He went upstairs and found a random notebook and a pencil and came back downstairs. He wrote on it and tapped her on her shoulder. Inola turned around, looking up at the stranger before taking the notebook from him.

Put something under him to stop his drool from getting on my furniture. My couch is imported from Argentina, it's expensive and can get ruined easily.

Inola could only look at him and nod, kind of taken aback but mostly disgusted by the stranger's request. He was a mentally disabled child, he couldn't help it. Besides, with what just happened to them last night, why was his stupid couch among the important things? She then looked around and shyly shrugged. They didn't exactly come with an overnight bag of shit, it's not like she knew they'd end up here.

French sighed and went back upstairs, coming down with a clean gray cotton towel. He waited for her to lift him, but frowned when he saw her struggling. She was slightly bigger than Uki, barely looking like she passed the healthy weight line, if even that. But if that was the case, why was she wheeling this kid around and she couldn't even take care of him?

French looked at her other kid who was sleeping. He barely looked bigger than the mentally ill one, so he knew he couldn't lift him. Plus, the longer he stayed asleep, the better for French. The less people, the less panic, the less questions, less noise. He sucked his teeth and gave Inola the towel, he picked Joshua up effortlessly but didn't look at him. The kid felt weird in his arms, almost like a mangled gummy worm.

Once she spread it on the couch, he damn near tossed him on it and had to stop himself from rubbing his hands on the side of his jeans. French picked the remote up off the table and turned the television on. He went to the news station to put the woman at ease, then walked off in search of something to eat. He saw a can of whip cream at the bottom of the fridge and took it out, tossing it in the garbage can.