This is still the unedited version of the story, but I’ve decided to publish it all in one post. My friend, Tina, has revised it for me and has given me some very good ideas for revision, but until then, I figured I’d let all of you finish the story as it is now. As always, I appreciate any feedback you give me. Don’t worry about being too rough because this is still in its first stage, and I know I have a lot of work to do. Hope you enjoy!
I.
The old wooden alarm clock read 6:27AM. In a few minutes it would go off, but he was already awake. Walter had been awake the whole night. He rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. He looked around the room. It was a cheap apartment on the lower west side of town. Outside he could hear the delivery trucks and the business owners. His thin, wood paneled walls were covered with old posters and pictures from college and his family. He spotted a picture of himself and his brother Jason. He chuckled. They weren’t really brothers, but the closest thing to it. The first time they met was in second grade.
The lunch bell had just gone off and the second graders started back to their rooms. Walter stopped by the bathroom. When he entered he noticed three older boys huddled around a younger one on the floor.
“Let’s break his nose!”
“Let’s steal his backpack!”
“Take it easy guys,” said Alex. The two others looked up at him. Their leader was much taller than they were. He wore a black, button down shirt, which he tucked into his black denim pants, which came over his black, shiny boots. He smiled. “Bruce, hold him down. Rob, go through his bag and see what he has.”
Bruce and Rob did as they were ordered. Following orders from their ringleader seemed to be the only thing they knew how to do. They were fourth graders, but only because they had been held back two years. They were both stocky but their clothes were still too big for them. Their families were both poor, so clothes were handed down from brother to brother. Not that any family in the west side was well off, but they came from the lower west side. The side of town Walter’s mother warned him never to go to.
Bruce’s baggy shirt was awkwardly tucked in, making him look more round than normal. His shirt was multi colored, and his pants used to be bright denim but now looked dull after so much use. What made his outfit stand out were his bright red shoes. They were Converse sneakers and Bruce’s prized possession, mainly because he had bought them with the money he stole from other kids. Because his mother didn’t know how he got them, he kept them in his book bag and put them on during home room every morning. His mother never found them. After all, she was too busy working two jobs to worry about what was in her son’s book bag.
Rob was the same size as Bruce, and also wore hand-me-down clothes. His clothes weren’t from his brother, however. They were forgotten items from the various men his mother had over. He didn’t know why she had so many friends come visit her late at night, and then hurriedly leave after an hour or so. He had on a tattered concert shirt from some long forgotten band and his jeans had holes in them. His shoes were old, and the soles were coming off making them flap every time he walked. With the stolen money Rob had, he bought a Cincinnati Reds hat which he now wore. He made sure to clean it regularly so it remained a brilliant red.
As Bruce and Rob went on towards the second grader, Alex turned away, spotting Walter. Even for a second grader, Walter was small. As Alex came towards him, Walter barely reached his chest. Seeing the two from a glance over his back, Rob came and stood by Alex’s side.
“Back off,” Walter said in a voice much more confident than he really was.
“Says who?” asked Alex. Just then, the door swung open and entered Mr. Carter, a math teacher, heading straight for the urinals with a panicked look on his face. He stopped when he saw the boys. The second grader was still sprawled on the floor with Bruce pinning him down. Alex and Rob were towering over Walter.
“Sorry I tripped and knocked you down, kid,” Bruce said to his victim, loud enough so Mr. Carter could hear him. He then got up and the three walked out the door. Mr. Carter quickly used the restroom and hurried out. Walter walked over to his peer and gave him a hand up.
“Are you alright?” Walter asked.
“Yeah I’ll be fine, thanks to you. I was hoping somebody would come in and help me.”
“You should’ve stood up for yourself. Hoping doesn’t get you much.”
“Attention students,” said the loudspeaker. It was the voice of Mr. Carter. “Would Alexander Tillinghast, Bruce Jager, and Robert O’Malley please come to the office immediately?” The other boy smiled.
“All you need is hope.” He laughed. It was an infectious laugh that made Walter smile too. “I’m Jason, what’s your name?”
Walter stood up and took the picture off the wall. It was taken the summer after their sophomore year in college. Since they had met, he and Jason became the closest of friends. They were on the same sports teams, in most of the same classes, and ended up going to the same college. In the picture they were standing in front of a stadium, one that they always snuck into when they were younger to see the college baseball team play.
Jason was always better at baseball, Walter thought. Jason was always better at everything. He always made first string. He always had the girls. He always made the grades. And it was true. When they went to college they both tried out for the team, and Jason had made it when Walter didn’t. The picture that was taken had been before Jason’s first game. Walter thought back to that bright summer day. He had long ago decided that was the day that changed everything.
After the game, the baseball team boarded their bus and was headed out to another school for a camp they were starting. On their way, the brakes went out and the bus crashed on the highway, killing nine people, one of them being Jason.
After Jason’s death Walter was never really the same. He never seemed to find joy in the things he usually did because he and Jason always did them together. Then the doctor discovered Walter’s mother had cancer, too late, it seemed, to do anything about it. She died Christmas day his junior year. He quit school to help support his family. The creditors were coming after his father who, after his wife’s death had become an alcoholic and lost his job. Walter became the sole provider for his family doing odd jobs wherever he could find them. His sister was able to get into college, and because of the family’s situation was able to get enough financial aid to cover her college expenses. His father was now in rehab for the third time. Walker flipped the picture frame over and undid the screws holding down the back. He slid the picture out.
He got in the shower, dried off and started getting dressed. He glanced in the mirror. He had bags under his eyes from tossing and turning all night. His stomach growled but he was too nervous to eat. He had a big interview this afternoon in the city. If he could land this job, then his life would be so much better he thought. All he needed was the opportunity.
But he thought about the reality of him getting the job. He was a college drop out in a cheap suite. How could he possibly get this job? He looked at the picture again. Jason was smiling, bright and radiant like he always did. He always livened up the atmosphere wherever he was. His attitude was always positive. Walter thought about how the atmosphere dampened after his death. He tossed the picture back on the bed. That’s when he saw it. There was something written on the back of the picture. How had he never seen it before? It must have always been there.
“All you need is hope.” It was Jason’s handwriting. Walter thought back to high school. Jason always had hope. Maybe that’s why he always did better on the sports teams. He always thought he could do better, and he always did better. Maybe that’s why he seemed to have more dates. He always had a positive attitude about everything; no wonder girls adored him. Maybe that’s why he did better in classes; he understood that an education was the only way out of the poor town they lived in.
Walter thought back to his mother’s death. His family seemed to have lost hope. His dad turned to the bottle and lost his job. Walter quit school to pick up some of the slack. Maybe if he had just listened to what Jason had always said, things would have been different. He put the picture back in the frame and hung it on the wall. He walked east towards the city thinking about different times he and Jason had. His stomach growled again. He really needed something to eat.
He stopped in a small diner on one of the side streets. He had walked past it several times, but had never thought to go in. It was a family run restaurant that had been there since the town was young. The tables were as old as the building and the ceiling had water stains all over. He sat down and ordered coffee and eggs, and read the morning paper. The store’s telephone rang, and his waitress answered it. He finished his food and looked at his watch. He needed to get going.
“Excuse me miss,” he said to his waitress, “do you mind if I get the check?”
She nodded and quickly ended the conversation. Her eyes were red and she wiped her face before coming back with the check.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I hope I haven’t kept you too long.” Though she appeared happy, it was quite obvious she wasn’t.
“No, you’re fine,” Walter said apologetically. Another table called for her. She told him she would be right back and left to help them. He pulled out his wallet and the money for his bill. He thought for a minute, took out a pen and scribbled something down.
Gathering up the morning paper, Walter walked out of the diner. The sun shone bright on the city. People in suites walked up and down the street. There were kids playing ball in traffic and mothers yelling out windows for their children to get out of the road. He thought of Jason, and how Jason’s attitude would be right now. His pace increased and he smiled as he entered the office building, his newfound courage leading the way.
II.
The family finally left the diner after demolishing their table. Since they arrived they had been nothing but trouble to Pam. The three children, all under the age of five, asked for coloring pages and crayons which the diner didn’t have. They started crying when she wouldn’t give them any. She calmed them down with sheets of paper and pens. When they got their food they went through two bottles of catsup, most of it ending up on the floor and the seat. Pam thought about how much trouble children were. She started to cry.
It had been a long day for her. Her doctor finally called her back with her test results. She had taken some home pregnancy tests but she needed the doctor to tell her. She was hoping the tests were wrong. When the doctor called and told her she was pregnant she couldn’t help but cry. She dried her eyes and focused on cleaning the table. She looked at the red catsup on the table and thought about how terrible children could act.
When she was finished with the table, she went over the where the single man had been sitting. He had left a while ago, and she had felt bad about not telling him goodbye. Stupid, noisy children. They had kept her busy her whole morning shift. She picked up the money and went to the register. He left her a good tip. She put the money in the register and the tip into her pocket.
After clocking out, she changed in the back and headed for the phone. She called her church and asked if confessions were still going on. They were. She was relieved. She really needed to speak with her priest about her situation. She looked at the red second hand on the clock hanging above the door.
At this same time a week ago, she had just left work and was heading home. She lived on the lower west side of town, not the safest part in the neighborhood. While she was walking home she saw a dog in an alley way. He looked like a sweet dog. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth as he panted heavily. His fur was still in good shape and he couldn’t have been more than a year old. The dog looked up and saw her. His tail immediately started wagging as he ran towards her. The tags on his red collar started jingling, but he only made it a couple of pounces before he collapsed from dehydration.
Pam hurried to the dog and picked him up and carried him over to a dumpster where she found a bowl that had been filled with rain water. She took it out and gave it to the whining dog. It wasn’t the best, but it was the best she could do. She knew what had happened to the dog. It was normal for people to drop off their unwanted animals. The dog finished drinking and looked up at her. He then looked past her and started growling.
A man was walking slowly towards her in the middle of the alley. He was wearing all black and kept his hat low so his face was covered.
“Well look what we have here,” he said in a low grunt. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a treat like you, missy.” Pam backed up, looking for any doors in the alley that she could escape to, but they were all locked. Even during business hours the stores in the lower west side of town locked most of their doors.
She tried to sprint past the man, but he simply grabbed her and threw her to the ground. He was much too strong for her to escape him. He pinned both of her arms with one of his hands as he spread her legs with his knees.
“Don’t worry, missy,” the man whispered in her ear. His whisper was more of a growl. His breath was hot and smelled. She still could not see his face. All she could see was his red hair poking from underneath his ball cap. “No one can hear you back here. Even if they could, what makes you think they would help you?”
His free hand worked its way up her legs and pulled down her panties. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. It hurt, bad. She was a virgin. She screamed. It was a loud, booming scream that echoed off the walls of the alley. People walking by heard her. As they looked in the alley they saw the disfigured shadows on the ground.
They kept walking. The man was right. Those that could hear her didn’t care about her. In this neighborhood it was every man for himself, and if you weren’t involved with something, you didn’t become involved. When the red-haired man finished he simply stood up and walked away. She was left there on the ground, crying and in pain.
The police at the precinct listened and took down notes, but in the back of her mind she knew they wouldn’t catch the man. It wasn’t their fault; they had so many murders, child molesters, and other rapists that his identity was just another needle in the haystack. The police told her to go to the doctor and get tested. The doctor told her it would take a day or two for the blood work to come back. Today she got the phone call letting her know she was with child.
She entered the church and went to the back where the confessionals were. The church was old and was falling apart like the rest of the city. The church did not have one priest, but rather rotated with other churches in the area. It seemed like not even ministers of God’s will wanted to stay in the place they were most needed.
A dark red screen separated her and the priest as she kneeled in the musty smelling wood box. It felt like a coffin to her. The only light came from the cracks in the doorway.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession.”
“What have you done, my child?” The priest’s voice is smooth. She relaxes involuntarily.
“Today at work I had cruel thoughts towards others. Towards children. They didn’t do anything wrong, they were just being children! Oh father, I don’t know what to do anymore…” Her voice broke off.
“Talk to me, child. God is listening.”
“My doctor called. I am pregnant by the man who raped me. I have not known any other men, father. I have been faithful to the Lord. Why would he do this to me? I haven’t the money to raise a child, but I haven’t the money for an abortion either.”
“You will find God works in strange ways, my dear.” Pam thought it was strange the way he called her dear. “Taking the life of an innocent child is not what He would want. Keep the child, though it might mean you must take on another job. You have been called to do the deeds of the Lord, and the unborn baby needs your guidance. Trust me. Trust your Father.”
“Thank you, Father. I will do God’s will.” Pam stood up to leave.
“Just a minute, sweet child,” said the priest. She shivered again at the way he talked to her. “The church, as you can see, is in desperate need of repairs. Have you anything to donate?”
Pam thought that she should be saving her money for the child, but quickly thought that the church surely needed it more than she did. She reached in her pocket and found the tip money from her day’s work. As the priest slid the screen open, light hit a one dollar bill. In red ink the words “All you need is hope” was written. She gave the money to the priest.
“Bless you child. Your donation is your penance. Go and spread the word of the Lord.”
As she walked home, all she thought about the words written on the one dollar bill. She thought about what the priest said about the child. Maybe this was God’s plan. Maybe she would need the child as much as the child would need her. She thought about the neighborhood that she would have to raise it in. She was scared.
“All you need is hope.”
She thought about the bright red letters on the one dollar bill. She imagined the person who wrote them on the one dollar bill. She wondered if an angel had written it. She wondered if it was a sign. She went to a nearby payphone and put in seventy-five cents. She hadn’t spoken to her mom in five years, since she moved out. All you need is hope, she thought. She didn’t expect her mom to answer, but if she did she hoped they could talk.
“Mom? It’s Pam, please don’t hang up. …I know it’s been a while, but we need to talk. I love you mom.” The sun shone bright red as it settled in the west. It was the most brilliant sunset that Pam had ever seen, and she watched it as she talked to her mother.
III.
Father McKenzie went into the back room of the church and changed from his priests’ robes into his street clothes. He was tired and worked up from listening to confessions all day. He liked listening to adulterers tell tales of their mistresses. They weren’t sorry, not really. He knew because he would hear the same voices week after week telling the same story. Working the confessional was one of his favorite parts about being a priest; the power that he felt, the control over people’s lives. They needed him. He needed them. He looked at the donations he had received today. It was close to four hundred dollars. He rolled it up and stuck it in his pocket. As he walked through the sanctuary he looked at the cracked roof and the broken windows. He told the sinners their donations would help fix the church. He couldn’t help but laugh.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” It was five years ago, his second year as a priest. The woman confessed to him that she continuously had impure thoughts about the men she worked with, and that she often acted on these thoughts. He told her that only a man of the Lord could truly satisfy her needs. He had just said it without thinking, but it had worked. As she climaxed in the tight confessional she whispered in his ear, “Oh save me! Save me! Save me!” That was when he realized the power he had as a priest.
He walked down into the east side of town. He was glad to get out of the poverty stricken west side. The girls there were older than they looked, and most of them had already had children. The girls on the east side were generally well off. The whole town seemed to be cleaner. But no matter how clean a town is, they all have their dirty parts. He walked into the strip club and sat down on the main floor. He ordered bourbon on the rocks from a topless waitress. He watched her breasts bounce as she walked to the bar. He was slightly turned off by her obviously fake breasts. He turned to the dancer on stage.
She was a new girl, young too, and amazingly beautiful. Most of the girls in the bar were hot or sexy, but she was different. She was cute and timid. But not timid enough to be modest, as her dance moves on the stage clearly showed. Father McKenzie couldn’t take his eyes off her as he threw back his drink. When she was done he called her over.
As she climbed onto his lap he felt the smoothness and the softness of her skin. She seemed too innocent to be in a place like this, he thought. But here she was.
“I saw you from the stage,” she said in a voice as soft as her skin. The hairs on the priest’s neck stood up. “What are you looking for?”
“You.”
She began to dance on his lap. She could feel his penis harden in his pants. She felt his chest, and felt his heart beating faster. She smiled and leaned down towards his ear.
“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Father McKenzie’s eyes widened. His stomach dropped. She could feel his fear. “Sinners go to church too, you know. I recognized you when you walked in. Don’t worry though, I won’t tell. Who would believe a stripper anyway?”
Her mesmerizing body slowly relaxed him. For him the seconds seemed like years. He studied her body. She had dark hair, bright blue eyes, and beautiful tan skin. Her breasts were real, and he could feel her hard nipples as she rubbed against him. She had a tight stomach and a great ass that grinded against him. He couldn’t help himself anymore; he had to feel her beauty. A bouncer started towards him but she signaled she was fine.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Hope, Father. My name’s Hope because all the girls hope to be me and all the guys hope to be with me. But be quiet, Father… I don’t like Father. I’ll call you Daddy. Will you be my Daddy?” As she whispered this she nibbled on his earlobe.
Father McKenzie ended up giving her all the money he had stolen from the donations. As he placed his last dollar bill in her red G-String he noticed writing on it. “All you need is hope.” He laughed. Walking back to his house all he could think about was Hope and what was written on the dollar bill. Hope, he thought, was a worthless thing to wish for. Hope had never gotten anyone anywhere. What people needed were leaders. Leaders like him. The rest of the way home he thought how sheepish people were. It started to rain.
IV.
Hope carefully unlocked her front door as not to make any sound. It had been a good night at the strip club. The dirty old priest had practically given her all his money. She shuddered. On Sunday the dirty old man would be at the pulpit preaching against women like her. She opened the door to her son Timmy’s room. He was fast asleep holding his teddy bear.
It was a cloudy day; the news reporter said there would be thunderstorms all week. Hope was waiting for DJ to get back from work to tell him the good news. She had just found out that she was pregnant. In a month they were getting married. The door opened and DJ walked in.
He was a tall man, towering over Hope. His arms were muscular from working in the factory all day. He had a three day old beard that had dirt and grease smeared in it. His brown hair was messy and his clothes looked worn. He was only twenty-six but he looked like he was in his late thirties. He had been an alcoholic for years now, and it was already showing. Their apartment was one of the smallest on the west side of town. Luckily it wasn’t in the lower west side, Hope thought. The baby deserved better than that. DJ walked over to the closet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He took a few chugs straight from the bottle before pouring himself a glass.
“Honey, I have some good news to tell you!” Hope said. “Come sit in the kitchen.”
“It better be that dinner is ready,” DJ grunted. With a few gulps he finished off his glass and poured some more whiskey. Hope could tell that he had been drinking before he had gotten home. She had hoped it was going to be a good night. Maybe the news would cheer him up.
“Honey,” Hope said as she grabbed his calloused hand. He pulled it away. “I’m pregnant.”
“What?” It was more of a yell than a question. “Woman you know we ain’t got no room for no kid.”
“I know honey, but we’ll be married in a month and—”
“DAMN IT HOPE! I ain’t no father, and you sure as hell ain’t no mother.” He walked over to the oven which was now smoking. He turned it off and pulled out the roast that Hope had forgotten about. She jumped up and ran over to help. “Get back!” DJ shouted as he swung and knocked Hope to the floor. “You can’t even keep an eye on the damned roast, how the fuck you gonna watch a kid? You ain’t no cook. You ain’t no mother neither.” He grabbed the bottle and took a large gulp. “All you is is a good fuck.”
Hope got up from the floor and slapped him across the face. The swing was hard and true, landing square on his jaw swinging DJ’s head around. When he looked back at her he was smiling.
“Now you’ve done it, you filthy whore.” DJ had the gleam of alcohol in his eye when he hit Hope again. As she curled up on the floor, DJ stood over here unzipping his pants.
“Please,” she cried. “The baby… the baby… think about the baby… think about your son…” DJ stopped.
“I done told you. I ain’t no father.” DJ walked out of the apartment and Hope never saw him again.
Hope leaned down and kissed her son’s forehead before closing the door to his room. She went in the kitchen and took out her tip money. She placed it in her purse. It was a red purse her mother had given her after Timmy’s birth. Hope had tried to refuse it, but her mother persisted.
“You always look out for others, Hope. You never do anything for yourself. So let me do something for you.” It was a red purse, able to look dressy and casual at the same time. It was not designer, though it tried to look like one. Hope wore it every day since then.
A year ago Hope’s mother died. She was poor and didn’t have life insurance or a savings account for the funeral. What little she did have was taken by creditors whom she still owed. Hope took out a loan for the funeral so her mother could have a proper burial, but shortly after she lost her job. She wasn’t able to find work and the bills slowly piled up, well beyond what she was able to pay back.
The one thing Hope always had was beauty. She was even voted most attractive in her class. But because of her father’s death she wasn’t able to go to college. Instead she had to start working to help support her mother and pay off the bills her father had left. Day by day she and her mother scraped by, then one day she met DJ. He was so kind to her the first few months they were together, and shortly proposed. Though it was soon and he did have a drinking problem, he had never hurt her and she loved him very much so she said yes. The day he moved in was the day the trouble started.
He started coming home already drinking and had gotten more abusive. Still, Hope could only see the sweet man she had fallen in love with. After he walked out on her she decided to keep her baby and moved back in with her mother. Now she was just trying to take care of little Timmy and herself, and so far they had done well. She walked to the front door and after making sure it was locked she turned off the lights and went to sleep. The next morning Hope got up made her bed. She kneeled down and started praying.
“Dear Lord, thank you for my precious Timmy, for my health, and for giving us food to eat. Dear Lord, please forgive me for the sins I have committed. I know what I do is wrong and unholy, but it has helped us out every day. Dear Lord, please forgive the priest that came in last night. Please help guide him back onto your path. Please show him what he’s done is wrong. Please help him resist the lust he feels for women. Dear Lord, please give him the hope you have given me to look towards a brighter future, one that you have guided. Please Lord, give him hope. Amen.”
She stood up and went into the kitchen, preparing breakfast for Timmy. After they had eaten, she took him to his friend Stephen’s house for a birthday party. “Now remember to behave and that mommy loves you.” She kissed him on the forehead before he ran off the play with his friends. She started off to the bank. She put seventy dollars into a savings account she had opened for Timmy. Counting what money she had, she set aside most of it to pay for bills and some to go towards groceries. Outside of the grocery store she saw some cheerleaders having a bake sale to raise money for uniforms.
“Hello miss,” the captain said in a cheery voice. “Would you like to buy a cookie? We’re having a bake sale to raise money for new uniforms, as you can see we need.” She smiled. She was beautiful, and looked much like Hope did when she was her age. She had a cheery attitude as she pointed out their uniforms which were very outdated and worn.
“You know what, I’m really not that hungry, but I would like to donate some money.” Hope pulled out some money and handed it to the cheerleader. As she handed her the money she noticed that on the back of a one dollar bill “All you need is hope” was written. She smiled. She leaned over and whispered, “There’s a little extra for you, honey. Buy a little something for yourself.” The cheerleader winked and slipped a couple of dollars in her purse.
As Hope walked away she looked at the sky. It was supposed to rain, but that didn’t dampen her spirits at all. She had felt really good about herself for no reason. As she went to pick Timmy up, she thought about how things were starting to improve for once. When she and Timmy reached the apartment, she bought a newspaper before heading up.
“You think you can find a new job in the paper, mommy?”
“I don’t know baby,” Hope smiled. “But all you need is a little faith, right?”
V.
“Like, why do we have to be out here? It’s about to rain.”
“And why do we have to have this stupid bake sale? My daddy was going to donate new uniforms to the team.”
“I know, right? I hate our new coach. She thinks that by making us raise the money we’re going to care about them more or something.”
“It’s worse that we have to be out here in this damn city. We’re going to get like mugged or something.” All the girls chattered in agreement. The only one who remained silent was Sarah, the captain.
“Don’t you agree, Sarah?”
“What? Oh, yeah,” She stammered. She looked around. “It’s just that homeless creep is freaking me out over there.”
“Oh yeah, you’re right.”
“I hope he doesn’t rape us or anything.”
“Not like it would matter for you, Lucy. I heard Doug ravished you after the football game Friday.”
“Shut up Hannah!” The two playfully slapped each other. They then compared boys on the football team. Who was bigger, who was better in bed, who needed improvement, and who they wanted to find out about. From the other side of the parking lot a black Corvette sped around the corner.
“Uh oh, Sarah. Looks like your boy toy Brian is here.” They giggled. “Give him a kiss for me.”
“Give his Johnson a kiss for me.” They shrieked in laughter. Sarah waved goodbye and got in the car with Brian.
“Hey baby. Give me a kiss.” Sarah pecked him on the lips. “I mean a real kiss sweetheart, don’t hold out on me.” Sarah gave him a real kiss. She rubbed on his thigh for good measure. Lucy and Hannah started shrieking again. Brian looked up and winked at them before driving off. His Corvette was nice and fresh, brand new in fact. His father had given it to him as an early graduation present. Brian’s family was loaded. Her family had even more money. Everyone at her private school had money. Well, not everyone, she thought. The car came to a stop.
“Where are we?” Sarah asked.
“Somewhere.” He turned off the car. “Somewhere nobody can see us. Now how’s about you finish what you started, sweet thang.” He pulled her to him. They started making out again. His breath was minty fresh as he whispered in her ear. His arms were muscular. He was the quarterback of the football team, and the pitcher for the baseball team. His legs were strong too. He was the second fastest boy on the track team. His hands started on her chest. He slipped down her cheerleader uniform. Her breasts were perky. He kissed them. His hands slid up her legs. They were tone from cheerleading, and smooth too. He kissed them. His hands slid upward still…
“Stop, Brian.”
“God damn it!” He leaned back in his chair as she fixed her uniform. “You never want to do anything!”
“You know that’s not true.” She turned towards the window as he started the car. “It’s just I’m about to start my period.”
“You’re always on your period,” he mumbled as they drove off. “You know, sometimes I don’t even think you like it.” She continued to look out the window.
The next day at school she met up with Lucy and Hannah before class. They asked her about Brian and if they did anything on the way home. The protested when she told them they didn’t. They told her she should loosen up and live a little. She agreed. She told them she needed to go to the bathroom. She entered the bathroom on the lower hall, where hardly anyone went because it was near the guys locker rooms. The locker rooms smelled so bad it wafted into the bathroom making them smell worse than they already did.
When she got inside there was only one other person, Alice. Alice was the same height as Sarah. She had black hair with red tips. She had bright blue eyes, like Sarah, and she wore mostly black. She had red lipstick and fingernails, and a nose stud. Though her clothes were a little baggy, they fit her well. She looked at Sarah.
“Bitch.”
“Freak.” Sarah came closer. They kissed. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was a perfect kiss. They embraced each other. “I missed you,” Alice whispered in Sarah’s ear. Sarah felt a chill run down her back.
“I missed you too.” They let go. Alice returned to the mirror and applied eyeliner.
“How’s Brian?” she asked jokingly. Sarah sighed.
“He tried to feel me up yesterday. I pushed him off and he got mad. The Cheer Brigade told me to loosen up too. I don’t think I can do it anymore, Alice.”
“Then don’t. You know I’ll be there when you want to tell them. You should at least tell Brian. I’ll be there too, so I can see the look on his pathetic little face. Mr. Jefferson Academy left for an art geek.” Sarah laughed a small laugh.
“You know I can’t do that, Alice. If he knows the whole school knows.”
“Then they know.” Alice turned and looked at her. “I love you, Sarah, but you need to tell them. You’re killing yourself.”
“I love you too, Alice. And I will tell them. As soon as I’m ready I’ll tell them.” Whenever that is, she thought. Sarah opened her purse to pull out some makeup. On top of everything else was a one dollar bill with “All you need is hope” written in red ink across the back. Sarah looked at it for a long time. The bell rang.
“Hurry up, bitch,” Alice said. “You’ll be late for class.” She pinched Sarah’s butt as she left, but all Sarah could focus on was the dollar bill. For the rest of the day Sarah thought about what it said. All you need is hope. Where did she get it from? It must have been the last lady that stopped at the bake sale. The bell rang. School was over. Sarah got into her car. She called Alice.
“I’m ready.” Sarah said.
“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to push you this morning. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”
“No, I need to do it. Can you come over tonight?”
“Of course. I’ll see you then.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Sarah was up in her room when her parents told her she had a visitor. She came down the stairs and saw Alice. The news was on. A reporter was talking about new developments with gay marriage. Sarah’s mother went and turned it off.
“We don’t need to hear any of that nonsense,” Sarah’s mother said, “now do we?”
“We were just telling your friend…”
“Alice.”
“Right. We were just telling Alice here about the church’s picnic this upcoming weekend, and how she was welcome to come.”
“That’s right!” piped her mother. “Sarah’s father does a lot for the church. I tell him he does too much but he says you can’t do too much for the church.” There was an awkward chuckle.
“So, Alice,” the father said. “Sarah hasn’t mentioned you before.”
“No, I bet she hasn’t.”
“Well, have you two just met?”
“No. We’ve known each other for a long time. Since middle school, actually.” Alice walked over to Sarah.
“Dad, Mom… There’s something I need to tell you.” She grabbed Alice’s hand. Sarah couldn’t focus on what happened next—it all seemed like a blur. Her mother’s face turned a pale white as her eyes became red and full of tears. Her father’s face became red and full of rage. There was much shouting. Things were thrown. Brian came through the door. Sarah had forgotten he had asked her out tonight. He saw Sarah and Alice standing together holding hands. He looked at her father. The father shouted. Brian’s look of realization was not as funny as Alice had pictured. He seemed madder than the father. The tires on his Corvette squealed as he drove off. Sarah and Alice were pushed out on the doorstep while the mother threw clothes out of Sarah’s window.
“Don’t worry, Sarah. You can spend the night at my house. My mother already knows, and she doesn’t mind.” The next morning Lucy and Hannah walked past Sarah.
“Good thing Sarah is a dike,” Lucy told Hannah, loud enough so Sarah could hear. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell her that I started fucking Brian about a month ago.” They laughed as they walked away. Sarah said goodbye to Alice and walked to her locker. She saw the boy with the locker under her counting some money. She had realized he had never even spoken to him.
“How much you got there?” He turned red.
“Not enough.” He pushed up his glasses. Sarah opened her purse and gave him the one dollar bill.
“It’s not much, but it helped me out. Maybe it’ll help you out too.” Sarah got her books and walked to class, smiling.
VI.
Eugene looked at the one dollar bill Sarah had given him. “All you need is hope.” She said it had helped her. Eugene wondered how a measly one dollar bill could possibly help someone like Sarah out; she had it all. Looks. Hot significant other. Money. Good family. Whatever Sarah wanted she got. And why had she spoken to him today? In the years he was below her locker she never had even spoken to him. Well, there was that one time but it was only because one of her cheerleader friends wanted him to move out of her way. He didn’t count that time.
Eugene slid the one dollar bill into his shirt pocket. He looked at himself. He was short and kinda chubby. He wore glasses that were old because his mother couldn’t afford to buy him new ones. His shoes were beginning to fall apart, though he dared not ask for new ones. He knew well enough his mother would spend the money they did not have to get him new shoes. She always tried to protect him but he wasn’t a little boy, he told himself. His shirt and his pants were old and faded. They were designer, but they were second hand. He had scoured the local thrift store for them. They were his best clothes. They were out of fashion. He sighed.
There was nothing special about Eugene. He wasn’t even special in the fact that he was a freak. He didn’t stand out in anyway, whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. It wasn’t because he tried. In class he would raise his hand whenever he knew the answer. But for every time he raised his hand someone else would raise it too. He was just another face in this godforsaken high school. He didn’t even have friends. He wasn’t smart enough to be a geek, wasn’t good looking enough to be popular, wasn’t athletic enough to be a jock, couldn’t afford to buy drugs to be a stoner. The only reason Eugene stood out was because he was a nobody.
The only thing special about Eugene, he thought, was his dog, Cooper. Cooper was an Alaskan malamute. Cooper was well trained. Cooper was a stray. The day that Eugene found Cooper was the single greatest day of Eugene’s life. He was walking home after school when he heard something in an alley way. Normally he would have kept his eyes forward and walked straight forward; everyone knows you don’t go into the alleys, especially when someone’s crying help. But there was something about this noise that made him believe something harmless was in the alleyway. He was wrong.
The cuteness that was an Alaskan malamute puppy staring Eugene in the face was so strong that it could turn even the most hardened criminal into a puddle of emotional mush. Harmless? The instant love the puppy had for Eugene and Eugene had for the puppy was not harmless. A love like that could kill somebody. Eugene knew his family could not afford a dog, but he also knew his mom had a soft spot for animals. So when he took Cooper home, he had named him Cooper (and when you name something you simply can’t just leave it behind), his mom grudgingly took in the dog. But Cooper was not what she had thought.
When Eugene’s mother took in the dog she expected Eugene to take care of it at all times. When it howled late at night, when it needed feeding, when it needed to be taken out, when it needed attention, she expected Eugene to take care of it or else it was out of the house. But Cooper wasn’t like that. All Cooper needed was Eugene. It never howled at night, it just laid next to Eugene’s bed. It never needed feeding when Eugene wasn’t there. In fact, it would only eat if Eugene fed it. It only needed to go if Eugene took it out. The only attention it needed was Eugene’s love. All Cooper needed was Eugene. The mother was happy.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Carter,” said the nurse. “We cannot release him yet.”
“He’s my son.” Eugene’s mother’s eyes were red with anger and tears. “You will release him when I say you will release him.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. All suicide patients must be held for a minimum of three days.”
“My son needs me. You will give him to me.”
Eugene had tried killing himself. His father had succeeded in killing himself. One day Eugene had come home from school, like any other day. He dropped his book bag by the couch, like any other day. He went into the kitchen to fix a snack, like any other day. He saw his father sitting in the living room chair, like any other day. He saw blood dripping from his father’s hand, unlike any other day. He stood in front of his father.
Eugene’s father was slouched in an old, itchy armchair with a bloody knife in one hand and an empty booze bottle in the other. The red blood stood out against the white carpet. Eugene looked at the empty bottle. He had seen many more like it. Since his father was laid off, that’s all he did. Eugene looked at his father’s eyes. They were troubled eyes. Troubled eyes for a troubled man. They were peaceful eyes. Eugene stared into them trying to think of the last time he saw so much peace in his father’s eyes. His father looked happy. Eugene looked at his father’s mouth, the same mouth that had kissed him goodbye before Eugene went to school. Eugene looked at his father’s hands, the same hands that beat his mother last night. Eugene looked at his father’s knife, the same knife that took his father’s life. The incisions on his father’s arms weren’t that deep, Eugene thought. Eugene brought in a chair from the kitchen table. Eugene took his father’s knife. Eugene positioned himself like his father was sitting. He would have gotten a bottle of wine from the kitchen, but his mother would have gotten mad. Eugene cut his wrists.
He started bleeding, but slowly. He watched his blood drip onto the white carpet. It was a slow drip. Eugene made small patterns with the dripping blood. He looked at his father. How long did it take him to find peace? How long did it take him to die?
His mother was the one that found him. Looking back Eugene wondered how it must have felt to walk into your home after a long day of work to find your husband dead in the living room chair and your son in front of him, dripping blood. He was released from the hospital three days later. A month after that he found Cooper, and things were better.
As Eugene walked home, he took out the one dollar bill and looked at the writing. Maybe hope could help. After all, things were getting better. He had even thought about asking his crush out today. She had waved at him from across the hall. She had noticed him. No one ever noticed Eugene. No one except for Cooper. Walking in the door to Cooper’s sloppy, wet kisses was the best part of Eugene’s day. As he got closer to the door he couldn’t help but smile.
“Cooper!” Eugene shouted as he opened the door. But there was no Cooper. There was only debris. Everything was torn apart. The food in the kitchen was on the floor. The pictures were broken. The furniture was ripped to shreds. Some of the walls had been knocked out. Everything was busted. Nothing was in its original place; nothing was left. Not even Cooper.
Eugene found Cooper on the floor in the hallway. There was a hole in his head from a bullet. Eugene bent down and held Cooper in his arms. Coopers blood dripped on Eugene’s chest, and mixed with the tears streaming down Eugene’s face. Cooper’s limp body seemed heavier than normal. It was probably because Cooper’s body carried all of Eugene’s troubles. Eugene’s only friend had died. The only person who would listen to Eugene was dead. The only person Eugene loved, truly loved, was dead.
Eugene laid his friend down. He walked into his mother’s room. He walked into her closet. He found the gun nestled in an old shoe box. She had bought the gun after her husband’s death for protection. Eugene thought about how it couldn’t protect Cooper. Eugene sat in the chair in the living room. He pulled out the one dollar bill the cheerleader gave him, the gun in the other hand.
“All you need is hope.”
As Eugene’s body went limp, the one dollar bill dropped to the ground. A drop of blood had spilt on it. The red dot looked like a period the way it had landed after “hope.”
