Hourglass
Mossy Alleyways and False Promises
There are children playing in the mossy alley behind the apartment. I can hear their voices drifting up through an open bathroom window. If I tilt my head at an uncomfortable angle, I can make out their quick-moving shapes as they pass a soccer ball around, weaving in and out of the ivy-covered stone.
I can see Noelle, too. She is crouched in the far corner of the alley, her back pressed up against a rusty gate. She is focused intently on reading something as the others scramble around her. I catch a glimpse of gold lettering as she shifts the book to turn a page. Grey’s Anatomy. I feel myself smile, the first genuine smile that’s played across my face in weeks. At that exact moment, Noelle look sup and meets my smiling eyes up in the frosted glass window. Her face lights up, radiating a childish, mischievous joy. She carefully closes my book, tucking it under her arm as she slips in the back door of the apartment building.
A few moments later, I hear a soft knock at the door. Noelle is standing there, her eyes bright, her cheeks pink from the climb.
“Hi,” she breathes, her eyes wandering over my shoulders and resting on the mountains of bloody Kleenex that have taken up residence in my living room. The jubilant expression is wiped from her face, replaced by one of confusion and anxiety. She steps over the threshold and I shut the door behind us.
“Mother says I’m not to be here.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“She says you are very sick.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Noelle looks confused, her little blue eyes wandering about the living room. She speaks again, her words coming slowly and difficultly.
“But mother says I might–“
“I’m not sick, okay?”
The little girl looks a bit taken aback. She hugs my book tighter to her chest, her eyes watering more than usual.
“Look, kid–why don’t you come sit down.”
Noelle gingerly picks her way through the living room, careful not to touch any tissues or cigarette butts. She sits down on the cough, burying her face in her chubby arms. I sit down beside her, smoothing my impossible copper wire tangles of hair. I cough, quickly trying to inconspicuously wipe the bloody mucus on my sweatshirt sleeve. Noelle chokes back a sob, her little body shuddering. She looks up at me with one teary, betrayed eye, a little string of snot clinging to her sweater.
“You are sick, aren’t you?”
“No–I–“
“Please. Do not lie to me. They always lie. Every time. And then they go away and never come back. No one ever stays for long. Not mother, not Nanny, not Daddy, not… you.” She spits out the last syllable with a surprising amount of betrayed contempt.
I wrap my arms around her, tucking her chubby knees up in my lap, feeling her wracking sobs against my body.
“They promise me that they will stay, but they always leave. Every time.”
“I know,” I rock her slowly, tears running down my face, “Honey, I know.”
She bites her lip, running her little hand over my skeletal face, confirming my existence, my humanity.
“Noelle…” I say, cautiously, “this world… it’s a screwed up place. Sometimes, it’s just not fair.”
I narrow my eyes, my voice gaining strength. “No, you know what? It’s never fair. No one really cares about you, about me, about people like us. They just try to get you down again and again, just to better themselves. They don’t care if they leave you bleeding in the street.”
I am practically shouting now, the harsh words coming from some deep suppressed place I was never aware of. “Sometimes you can be strong, but sometimes, most of the time they win. They get to you. It’s a cruel, fucked-up world out there. It’s each man for himself. And that, kid, is why people like you and me have to stick together.”
Noelle stares, shell-shocked, straight into my eyes. I almost smile, giving her a lackluster knick on the shoulder with my fist. “Cheer up, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”
The little girl sniffs, wiping a string of snot out from under her nose.
“Promise?” her little voice is shaking.
“Yeah, I promise.”
Noelle smiles, relieved. I smile, too, my fake, assured smile. Suddenly, I want nothing more but to crawl up in bed, just me and my thoughts.
“Get out of here. You’re mom won’t like it if she finds you here.”
“Okay,” Noelle smiles.
I watch her walk down the hallway, another stray tear skating down my face. There is black weight pressing down on my tired lungs, smothering the daylight, the silver laughter of the children in the alleyways, the glory of false promises.
I can see Noelle, too. She is crouched in the far corner of the alley, her back pressed up against a rusty gate. She is focused intently on reading something as the others scramble around her. I catch a glimpse of gold lettering as she shifts the book to turn a page. Grey’s Anatomy. I feel myself smile, the first genuine smile that’s played across my face in weeks. At that exact moment, Noelle look sup and meets my smiling eyes up in the frosted glass window. Her face lights up, radiating a childish, mischievous joy. She carefully closes my book, tucking it under her arm as she slips in the back door of the apartment building.
A few moments later, I hear a soft knock at the door. Noelle is standing there, her eyes bright, her cheeks pink from the climb.
“Hi,” she breathes, her eyes wandering over my shoulders and resting on the mountains of bloody Kleenex that have taken up residence in my living room. The jubilant expression is wiped from her face, replaced by one of confusion and anxiety. She steps over the threshold and I shut the door behind us.
“Mother says I’m not to be here.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“She says you are very sick.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Noelle looks confused, her little blue eyes wandering about the living room. She speaks again, her words coming slowly and difficultly.
“But mother says I might–“
“I’m not sick, okay?”
The little girl looks a bit taken aback. She hugs my book tighter to her chest, her eyes watering more than usual.
“Look, kid–why don’t you come sit down.”
Noelle gingerly picks her way through the living room, careful not to touch any tissues or cigarette butts. She sits down on the cough, burying her face in her chubby arms. I sit down beside her, smoothing my impossible copper wire tangles of hair. I cough, quickly trying to inconspicuously wipe the bloody mucus on my sweatshirt sleeve. Noelle chokes back a sob, her little body shuddering. She looks up at me with one teary, betrayed eye, a little string of snot clinging to her sweater.
“You are sick, aren’t you?”
“No–I–“
“Please. Do not lie to me. They always lie. Every time. And then they go away and never come back. No one ever stays for long. Not mother, not Nanny, not Daddy, not… you.” She spits out the last syllable with a surprising amount of betrayed contempt.
I wrap my arms around her, tucking her chubby knees up in my lap, feeling her wracking sobs against my body.
“They promise me that they will stay, but they always leave. Every time.”
“I know,” I rock her slowly, tears running down my face, “Honey, I know.”
She bites her lip, running her little hand over my skeletal face, confirming my existence, my humanity.
“Noelle…” I say, cautiously, “this world… it’s a screwed up place. Sometimes, it’s just not fair.”
I narrow my eyes, my voice gaining strength. “No, you know what? It’s never fair. No one really cares about you, about me, about people like us. They just try to get you down again and again, just to better themselves. They don’t care if they leave you bleeding in the street.”
I am practically shouting now, the harsh words coming from some deep suppressed place I was never aware of. “Sometimes you can be strong, but sometimes, most of the time they win. They get to you. It’s a cruel, fucked-up world out there. It’s each man for himself. And that, kid, is why people like you and me have to stick together.”
Noelle stares, shell-shocked, straight into my eyes. I almost smile, giving her a lackluster knick on the shoulder with my fist. “Cheer up, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”
The little girl sniffs, wiping a string of snot out from under her nose.
“Promise?” her little voice is shaking.
“Yeah, I promise.”
Noelle smiles, relieved. I smile, too, my fake, assured smile. Suddenly, I want nothing more but to crawl up in bed, just me and my thoughts.
“Get out of here. You’re mom won’t like it if she finds you here.”
“Okay,” Noelle smiles.
I watch her walk down the hallway, another stray tear skating down my face. There is black weight pressing down on my tired lungs, smothering the daylight, the silver laughter of the children in the alleyways, the glory of false promises.