Page 28 of Pieces of Ash
My mother is dead.
My stepfather is a monster.
My confessor is far away.
Here, in the dark, a transient figure in a town I don’t know, I am utterly alone, and for a desperate and terrible second, I am positive I willneverknow safety. Scorn, indifference, malevolence, and impermanence? Yes. Sure. Safety? No. Never.
My hand clutches the handle of my suitcase until my knuckles turn white in the light of the buzzing overhead lamp.
Trust in God.
Father Joseph’s warm and welcome voice washes over me, calming my racing heart just as headlights approach. A taxi stops in front of me, and I scramble from the bench into the back seat, lugging my suitcase in with me.
“Ferry terminal, right?”
“Yes, please,” I say.
“Come in on the nine o’clock train?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir, huh? Hmm. Manners. That’s nice for a change.”
I push the button under the window, and it lowers, the evening breeze cool on my face.
“So,” he says, “you’re headed to Vermont, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You seem kinda young. To be traveling alone, I mean.”
I don’t answer because there isn’t anything to say.
“Not chatty, eh? Well, do you mind music?”
“No, sir.”
“Heh. ‘No, sir.’ So polite. Okeydokey.”
He leans forward, and pop music fills the car.
At school, electronics are frowned upon. There is no cellular signal on campus, and Wi-Fi is available to students only from seven until eight in the evening, so if you want to text someone or look at your Instagram page, you have about an hour after supper.
If you need to call someone, there’s a communal telephone in Mother Superior’s office, or you can ask to make a call in the rectory. There’s no TV in the common room either—only puzzles, books, and games—and no audio system.
So I haven’t heard much pop music, except during my school breaks at Mosier’s house. And even then, my stepfather and stepbrothers favored Europop, which was usually in a language I didn’t understand.
I’ll be there, sings the voice on the radio, and I take a deep, bracing breath of the wind blowing on my face. I’ll be there for you.
I have no idea who the singer is, and maybe her words should amplify my loneliness, but they don’t.
Trust in God.
The words make me feel strong for some reason. Maybe because, as much as Father Joseph was only on loan to me, he still facilitated this escape. And as much as Gus doesn’t know I’m on my way to him, he will welcome me with open arms.
I could let my past get me down. I could do that, but sitting here in the back of this taxi, driving through the night to a ferry terminal that will take me across black waters to an unknown town in another state, I make an important decision.
I don’t know what lies ahead for me, but I promise myself I will come out whole on the other side. And when I do, I will find the safety I crave, even if I have to create it myself.
