Lauren

Walk Forward

“You’re pathetic! Get me dinner right now!” His voice echoed in her ears, causing them to ring as she rushed through the kitchen, her trembling hands attempting to measure out a cup of flour. It was useless; the powdery substance fell onto the beige countertop, scattering everywhere as her breathing became more rapid. It was almost serene, had she not been in such a situation. The powder looked like snowflakes, each piece small and insignificant, yet they came together to form something wondrous.

Giving up on the exact measurement, Maya emptied the cup into a large bowl. She was a tiny girl, short and skinny yet if she had more to eat, she was sure she’d gain some desired weight. Her Italian mother had graced her with emerald eyes and copper skin, but her father stole away her black hair, giving her brown instead.

“I’m glad tempers aren’t hereditary,” She thought to herself. Maya was seventeen years old and had been working for two years. She went from job to job, ranging from department stores to restaurants. As she turned around to check on the chicken, her father’s eyes stared into hers.

She could feel his hot breath against her paling skin as he exhaled, his breath reeking of alcohol. “You’re not making it fast enough. If you’d quit that damn job, maybe you could make my dinner on time.” Spit showered and splattered on her face. She stared back at him defiantly, wiping it away quickly. He was hungry and angry…and that was never a good mix. Beer cans littered the floor of their two-room apartment while cigarette stubs filled an ashtray, the hazy smoke escaping out of the open window. The room stunk of alcohol and vomit. Maya was only thankful that she had her own bedroom, kept shut at night with a lilac air freshener.

Gathering up her courage, she glared back at him. “I would be home earlier if you found a job so that I wouldn’t have to work all day to support us!” Her father swayed for a moment, taken back with her sudden boldness. He could control nothing in his life, so he tried to control her. He raised his fist upward to send forth a painful blow.

She winced, cowering down as she tried to cover her face. If bruises were to start appearing there, she’d have to deal with questions. Questions meant suspicion, which was not good. She didn’t want to transfer schools again. As she waited for the hit, her eyes diverted themselves to a single photo of her mother, delicately settled upon their white wall. In the picture, a thin silver chain wrapped around her mother’s neck and a simple cross hung from it, settling itself over her heart. Her mother had died in childbirth and the necklace had been passed down to her only child—Maya. She was told all of her mother’s love was held within it. It was the only thing left of her mother. Of course, that too had been lost a few years ago when her father entered another blind rage. It had been torn from her neck and tossed across the room and no matter how long she searched, Maya had never been able to find it again.

Everything had been taken from her. Not even a tangible item could remain in her possession. Her prayers were never answered and the loss of her cross only convinced Maya more of her abandonment. She had dreamed about it before or when she was trying to block out the pain of her father’s anger. Her mother would run into the apartment and stop her father, returning to her a normal life where she didn’t have to work and she could be a regular teenage girl who worried about teenager things. There would be happiness.

But no—her mother was dead. Everything in her life was cold and she was to blame. Her father always said it was her fault since she had died giving birth to Maya. As if she could control something like that. Her mother’s death was no ones fault—it had just happened.

The sound of skin hitting skin reverberated through the empty air and Maya reeled from the force of the blow, stumbling until she slammed into the kitchen table. The side of her head throbbed as her vision blurred from unshed tears. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. She refused to show the weakness she saw in him. Maya could already feel the lump forming on her head before he swung at her again, punching her in the stomach. The air in her lungs was suddenly gone. She fell forward, stumbling and pulling herself towards her room. She grabbed anything to help her towards safety.

“Maya! Get back here!” He slurred his words as he lunged forward, grabbing onto her long brown curls before he yanked back, letting loose a drunken sob as his daughter’s body crashed to the floor. He had drunk far beyond what normally was his limit to be so out of control. Maya reached backwards, uselessly clawing at his hands to release her hair while she kicked wildly, her body aching from the newly inflicted damage. She tried not to scream as he clambered around her and grabbed her arm, dragging Maya across the floor while whimpers of pain escaped her bleeding lips. He looked down at her and Maya saw that he was far away. He wasn’t with her right now. He let go of her, Maya’s body thudding on the ground while he stumbled to the couch. He dropped into the cushions, refusing to look at her.

Maya sat on the floor, curled up in a tight ball while her father drifted to sleep, snoring loudly. Occasionally her body would shake with sobs that she let out under her breath but even then, it hurt to tremble. It hurt to breath and for a moment, her one desire was that she couldn’t. She wanted to close her eyes and drift to sleep. To not feel the burning sensations that coursed throughout her body. It was a sorry excuse for a life.

No one’s life was supposed to be like this. Pain had been all that Maya knew since she was born and she wanted an escape. She needed an escape before she went crazy, before it became the end of her. She couldn’t stay when it hurt so badly—but she had nowhere else to go. She didn’t know who to turn to.

With a groan, she pulled herself into a sitting position as the room spun around her. A wave of nausea nearly made her sprint to the bathroom. After it passed, Maya stood up slowly, her bones creaking with the effort. She ignored the tears dribbling down her cheeks. She was quiet so that her father wouldn’t wake up while she washed the dried blood off of her body, bandaged herself and was fascinated at how fast the yellow and purple bruises could form.

Slipping on jeans and a long sleeved shirt, she frowned at the dark finger-shaped bruises on her arms and the black eye she was now sporting. A ponytail hurt too much, so she left her hair down, draping it over her shoulders. She looked about her room for a moment, memorizing where everything was and how things were. She could see the silhouette of her father slumped on the couch.

How had he disintegrated into such a person? She remembered warm days in the park and the way he cheered when she rode her bike down the dirt trail. The years had eaten away at him, leaving nothing but the shell of a father- the shell of a man. Maybe it was being a single parent, the lonely nights or did it happen at the point when his company went over and they lost nearly everything? He stopped doing what he loved and they’d both be on the street it wasn’t for Maya. Simply because of a few rejections, he stopped trying. He stopped living.

It hurt Maya to see him like this. More than it hurt though—it made her angry. She was furious. What gave him the right to treat her like this? She hurt too without a mother. Life was hard for her too. But as she slammed her bedroom door and twisted its cold lock, she knew she was ready to give up, just like him. And this just got her even more furious. No. She wouldn’t give up. She’d leave and start the kind of life she wanted, one that involved happiness and warmth. Grabbing her backpack, she dumped her schoolbooks on the floor and began to quickly refill it with clothes and whatever spare money she managed to hide from her father. Maya shuffled through the stuff in her room, all the while thinking “I’m sorry daddy…”

Her eyes swept about the room one final time before she tiptoed out, shutting the door behind her. Ignoring the shattered glass on the floor, she stepped around it carefully and pulled down the photo of her mother. Her hands shook and her breathing was unsteady as she opened the apartment door, paused, and looked back.

He still wasn’t awake. He probably wouldn’t be for hours. But when he did come to, this time it would be different. He would wake up and he wouldn’t find her. And really, was there anything remaining in that broken home? She couldn’t help but wonder—would he look for her? Would he be a worried father and send the police after her? Maya shook her head. Anything was better than this life. She tried to tell herself to have faith.

“Good-bye…” She whispered under her breath as she stepped out into the hallway and shut the door. Putting on a pair of sunglasses to hide her bruises, she walked out onto the street and began to wander. She didn’t care where she ended up, as long as it was far away from this painful home.

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The snores reverberated off the hollow walls, bouncing in the empty room. At one point, they became so loud that he jerked himself awake. With a bit of a struggle, he pulled himself upright on the couch, groaning with effort and trying to remember what exactly had occurred. One word filled his mind.

No.

He had done it again—hit her and passed out. What had he turned into? The only person in the entire world that held even an ounce of love for him was also the one he went after. He didn’t deserve to have that love. Nothing was her fault but he still took out all his anger at the world on her. Why did she even remain with him? The only solace he had was to look into her room at night as she quietly slept and utter I’m sorry a thousand times over. Bleary eyed and aching, he glanced up at the photo of his wife, knowing she would be ashamed of what he’d become.

But the photo was gone. Her smile had disappeared from the room and his life for good. He stumbled around the couch, searching for the picture and Maya. She had probably taken it. All their lives they were stealing from each other. He knew she took the photo into her room at night, but he didn’t mention it. He had the silver cross tucked in his wallet, behind a picture of his wife and Maya as a baby. It was something he needed, even though he knew it rightfully belonged to his daughter. He began to become frantic. Maya wasn’t in her room. Her drawers were empty, her backpack gone.

His eyes were already red and worn but they filled with tears, which dribbled down his unshaven cheeks.

“No….no….” He mumbled, pulling open closet doors and searching the kitchen. “I’m sorry Maya…I’m so sorry…I’m sorry…” He kept repeating, but they were only broken words that she couldn’t hear. Words he was never able to say to her, unless he knew she wouldn’t wake. They quietly hung in the air before fading into the quiet nothingness. The house had become a painful void and words of regret would not be enough to fill it.

She was truly gone and nothing in the world scared him more than that. Her smile was his only reason for sticking around this godforsaken world. His heart ached as he thought to himself that he was the one destroying her smile. He had driven her away. And even though he knew it’d been a very long time since he had everything together, he decided to do something right.

He grabbed his jacket. He would find his daughter, bring her home and become the father he should be. He’d search even if it killed him in the end. She was his only reason to even stick around and he’d managed to drive that away. Wiping futilely at the tears that refused to cease, he opened and closed the door on that void, entering a world he feared to find her.

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A cold wind stirred autumn leaves about the cracked sidewalk, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She didn’t know how long she walked. She just knew she couldn’t stop. Her body was already beyond exhaustion, every step causing pain to travel through her, as if thousands of sharp needles were being pushed deeper and deeper into her skin.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been. As she staggered forward, she felt her legs give out and she began to fall towards the hard ground. Her eyes were beginning to shut as she just let everything go. As she came speeding towards the ground, Maya was suddenly jerked back, her body pulled upright against something solid and warm. She felt two arms holding her steady and she didn’t dare move.

He had searched for her all day and night. He was ready to say to her what he never had the courage to. “I’m so sorry Maya…please…come back home. Please…help me to get help…to stop…”

She turned around, not quite sure what to say, her eyes pooling with tears once again. He fell to the ground, his knees cracking against the sidewalk. He looked up at her from below, his eyes pleading for an end to this painful cycle.

“I’m going to live with Grandma for a while,” she said.

He sighed, not moving. He shouldn’t have expected her to forgive him. Forgiveness was something he didn’t deserve.

But Maya wasn’t finished. “I’ll come back to live with you again after you sober up and get a job. We’ll find you a clinic or a group to get help…I promise dad…”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was truly the daughter of his wife. She would be so proud. He couldn’t stop shaking as he stood up and hugged her, clinging on to the one reason he had for living.

“It’s a deal…it’s a done deal…”

Later that night, Maya sat in her bed as he poured each beer he owned down the drain. The washing machine was buzzing quietly as it worked to clean his collared shirts. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and fiddling with it until a sliver of silver glinted in his hand. Stepping into Maya’s room, he gently placed the cross on her nightstand. It was finally where it was supposed to be. He had to let go of it one day. He shut her bedroom door as he returned to the living room. He had a lot of cleaning up to do.

Maya peeked open her eye, getting out of bed to see what her father had placed on her stand. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep yet. Her heart was still racing. There was something different about him now. He had changed. He was determined to hold onto what he had let go. She gasped as she picked up the silver chain, fingering the cross with care. With a soft laugh, she hooked it around her neck, finally able to fall asleep peacefully.