Breaking Faith Read online

  “I didn’t think she’d be home—too early,” says Josie. All us kids stand in the hallway and wait, holding our breath until Gran comes downstairs.

  “Well. That was a week and a half,” she says, surveying us three siblings. I can sense sarcasm in her voice.

  “What happened, Dot,” asks Josie. Gran shakes her head.

  “Lacey’s in the rehabilitation facility as of this morning. I dropped her off by taxi from the hospital and then they told me I had to go.”

  “I thought she was there already,” says Josephine.

  “She had to detox first.”

  Josie gasps.

  “Well, what do you want me to say. That’s why I stayed.”

  “I know but, do they have to know everything?” Josephine furrows her brow. “A little gentler, perhaps.” Gran Dot rolls her eyes and turns to go to the kitchen.

  “Not going to sugar coat it, Josephine. What good will that do? They’ll find out anyway.” The words resound in me. I think of Annie, then I remember that tomorrow I’ll probably have to face the music about the bus incident.

  Josephine looks at Gran, and shakes her head in disbelief. “Did they say how long for Lacey in rehab?”

  “Thirty days. Then real life kicks in and she has to rejoin the world again.”

  I think about what that meant. Why did Gran Dot always speak in riddles? Was she coming home in thirty days? Rejoin the world? I’m confused.

  I hated saying good-bye, but it was time. Connie, myself and Des all group hug, but it is hard to let my big sister go with all these questions in my mind. I want to talk to her about rehab and what it means for us and for Mom and what she thinks. I want someone to tell me that it’s going to be okay and that Mom will be better forever.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I whisper to Connie. She nods and squeezes Des and me.

  “Bye girls,” says Josephine. “We’ll see you again real soon.”

  But soon was not soon enough. We wouldn’t see each other again until Mom was released from hospital.

  In the meantime, I knew that Gran had no idea about what happened on the bus—we left in too much of a rush that day for her to ever get the phone call. I had to tell her about the fight with Annie before the school did and I was not looking forward to that.

  Chapter 6

  “Do you know why you’re here, Faith?” asks Mrs. Fargo, our vice principal. I don’t offer any information. It’s the first day back at school since returning from Josephine’s, and I’m in the office by recess time. Everyone ignored me on the bus, but I like it that way.

  “Did something happen on the bus between you and another student last week that you want to tell me about?”

  I shake my head with the most innocent look I can muster up.

  “Faith. I know what happened on the bus.”

  Then why are you asking me?

  “I also know that things have been happening at home that might have sparked this behavior. You need to understand that what you did was unacceptable. But I understand why you did it.”

  I look up, surprised.

  Mrs. Fargo leans her elbows on her desk and speaks softly. “I talked with some of the kids on your bus, and they tell me Annie has been giving you a hard time about your mom.”

  I try hard to suppress it, my eyes begin to sting and brim over with tears. I simply nod back to her.

  “I thought so.” The corners of her mouth warm into a smile. “I spoke with your grandmother this morning, and she agrees that it may be best if you speak with someone about what’s happening. Is that okay with you?” I nod again. “A counselor will be in this week to talk with you about whatever you want—your mom, sister, any questions about where your mom is—you decide.”

  ...

  Two days later, I’m called down to the office again. It’s during math period—this, in and of itself, is a welcome happenstance. Mrs. Fargo meets me at the door and motions me into her office.

  I walk in and am shocked to see my grandmother sitting with a pretty lady at a round table. Seeing Gran in the school is weird. She never even comes to parent-teacher interviews.

  “Faith, this is Shelley,” says Mrs. Fargo. “She is the counselor I told you about.”

  The pretty lady has a genuine smile that shows off her perfect teeth. “My name is Shelley Hazen and I work for the school board. It’s nice to meet you, Faith.” Her voice is soothing and soft. “Your grandmother and I have already had a conversation about what’s happening at home. Sounds like you’ve had a rough year.”

  I look at my Gran. She nods to answer. “Yes,” is all I offer.

  There’s a pause and Shelley licks her lips. “You know, Faith, sometimes when we’re confused or don’t understand what the adults around us are going through, we feel afraid and overwhelmed. Often that fear makes us sad. Now a little sadness is okay; it’s an emotion just like happiness, worry, or anger. But too much sadness can be a harmful. Do you follow me so far?” I nod and look at Gran. She seems bored.

  “All right, then—why don’t we start off with your mom. You know she’s been in Toronto for a while, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your Gran tells me that you know where she is right now, in a place that will help her get better.”

  “She’s in a rehab center because she’s addicted to drugs.” It comes out rather bluntly. Shelley looks at Gran.

  “I don’t believe in sugarcoating the truth.”

  “That’s pragmatism for you.” Shelley smiles. Gran doesn’t smile back. The counselor’s attention turns back to me. “Do you have any questions about how they are going to help your mom get better?”

  “Yes. What do they do there?”

  “Well, there are doctors and nurses and therapists there who are taking care of your mother’s health and well-being. They will treat the drug addiction and ensure that your mom gets better physically, and they’ll make sure she receives care for anything else that may be bothering her. That is the best way to help her to get well, and stay well.”

  “Can she come home after she gets out?” I brighten a bit.

  “That’s up to the doctors,” says Shelley, “but I’m sure you will be able to see her soon, right Gran?”

  Gran nods. “Are we done here?” She stands up.

  “Ah, yes, but I’d like to have another word or two with Faith, if you don’t mind.”

  “’Course not.” Then she turns to me and holds up her warning finger. “No more fights on the bus, understand?”

  “Can I just see you outside for a moment?” Shelley says as she follows Gran out. She closes the door behind her but is only gone a few minutes.

  When she returns, she has two Popsicles. “Look what I got from Mrs. O’Grady.” She smiles warmly. “Which one, blue or red?”

  I choose red. We slurp our ice pops for a moment or two, then she begins to talk again.

  “Before you go back to class, Faith, I need you to understand two very important things. The first thing is that even though sometimes the adults around us don’t show us that they love us, they really do.” I know right away that she’s referring to my grandmother. “The second thing is that children do not cause or create the problems adults have in their lives—now I’m talking about moms, dads, grandmothers—any adult.” Though I know Shelley is appraising me, her eyes show compassion. “Grown-ups are responsible for their actions, good or bad, not their children.”

  “You’re talking about Mom and Gran?”

  “Sort of, but mostly I’m talking about you. I don’t want you to blame yourself or think that you or your sisters may have been the reason why your mom has a drug problem. You’re kids and you deserve to have a responsible adult look after you. It’s not your fault; don’t ever forget that, okay?”

  Listening to her telling me that I deserve to be taken care of makes me f
eel better. The Popsicle helps, too. “Okay, Shelley.” I swallow the last bit of my Popsicle.

  “Can I come back and see how you’re doing next week?”

  “Sure.” I look away, unsure how to react.

  She gently takes my empty wrapper and tosses it into the garbage. “Promise me one thing. No more fights. Hands off. There is never an excuse for violence.”

  “I promise.” I leave the vice principal’s office feeling better than I have in weeks.

  ...

  March crawled by, even with the much anticipated spring break after the long, cold winter. But the day finally came when Gran had to go to the rehab clinic in Toronto to get Mom.

  “Today’s the day!” I squeal all the way downstairs to the kitchen, where I grab Des’s hands and twirl her around. She giggles and dances with me.

  “Okay, settle down. Don’t do your happy dance yet. Your mother still has a long way to go before you can celebrate,” says Gran, tucking a sandwich in her purse. “She’s outta the clinic there, but she’s still gotta go to the outpatient clinic here.”

  “What’s that?” Des asks.

  “It’s when people like your momma go to the special clinic only during the day and hope that they don’t fall into the same damn trap with drugs after they’re cut loose from the hospital. Which is a pain in the ass for me ’cause I gotta go with her to some of these sessions.”

  “But you’re happy she’s coming home, right?”

  “I should be.” Her face looks a thousand miles away. “But at least there, I know she’s away from people who might lead her down the same road again. Here, she’s gotta be strong on her own.”

  “I’ll help you, Gran,” I say, scrounging in the fridge for bread and Cheez Whiz. “Please be nice to Momma. Don’t fight with her, okay? Please.”

  Gran’s mouth starts to work. She sucks in her lips and bobs her head up and down. “I’ll try,” she says softly.

  ...

  Shelley and I talk again that day. She sits at a table in Mrs. Fargo’s office, and I sit across from her.

  “I hear this is a big day for you and your family, Faith. How nice to have your mother home again. How do you feel about it?”

  I shrug. “I’m glad, I guess.”

  “Just glad? Aren’t you excited to see her?”

  “Well, I was really happy to see her this morning.” My voice is thick with emotion. “But then Gran s-said that i-if sh-she comes h-home—” I start to hiccup uncontrollably. Shelley reaches over and pats my shoulder. “She m-might end up t-taking drugs again because sh-she is in the out-outpatient hospital.” Another cry escapes from deep inside. “And sh-she was supposed to c-come back when the crocus bloomed in our f-front yard, but she never did.”

  A tissue brushes up against my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Faith. Here, honey—take this.” Gratefully, I accept the tissue and wipe my eyes and nose as Shelley waits patiently for me to get myself together.

  When my hiccups subside, she speaks. “Feel a bit better now?”

  “Yes,” I lie. My outburst makes me feel ashamed.

  “Good.” She smiles at me and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Well, I don’t know anything about a crocus, but first and foremost, it’s not up to you to take care of the adults around you or feel guilty because they need to take care of you—that’s their job. They are the adults, not you.” She pauses.

  “I know your Gran must be happy that your mom can come home, but I think she’s probably scared, too, just like you.”

  I nod and try to understand. Listening to Shelley makes me feel calm, like everything is going to be okay—I crave that calmness of spirit. Abruptly, I rise from my chair and dash around the table to throw my arms around her neck. She hesitates for a moment, then hugs me back, albeit for an instant, but she hugs me back.

  ...

  Destiny and I grow more excited the closer we get to our stop. As we round the corner to enter our street, I see Momma, arms crossed in front of her, pacing up and down the pathway. She’s thin and has shorter hair, but it’s her!

  “Look, Des, it’s Momma!” I yell out.

  “Where, where? I can’t see!”

  “Just there!” I point over the kid’s head in front of us. Des stands up but is too short. The kids in the bus are smiling, too—I think they’re genuinely happy for us today.

  “Sit down, girls—almost there,” says Mr. Mel.

  I never take my eyes off Mom—her hands are up to her mouth and she’s laughing and waving at us from the curb. As soon as the bus stops, I grab Destiny’s hand and hurry to the front door.

  “Thanks, Mr. Mel!” We tear down the steps, through the doors, and into Mom’s arms, Des and I both. She kneels down to hold us, and we just throw ourselves into her, laughing and crying. I bury my face in her hair. She smells wonderful; the smell of comfort and safety, of home and love. I sparkle inside.

  “My babies, my babies…oh my God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry,” Momma sobs. She holds us tightly and cries into our jackets for what seems like forever, as she rocks us back and forth. Nothing can hurt me, no one can make me feel bad because Mom is holding me.

  Then slowly we detach. Momma looks healthy and rosy-cheeked. Her loving gaze caresses me and Destiny, trying to take in every detail in our faces that may have changed in the months since she last saw us.

  “I can’t believe I’m home.” She tenderly tucks our tear-dampened hair behind our ears and then reaches up to touch Destiny’s forehead, and then mine, with her lips. “I love you guys so much and I’m so sorry. I just can’t say it enough.” Her face is home. I feel peace, calm; no anger, no resentment, no Darkness.

  “I missed you, too, Momma.” All I want is for things to be good.

  “Me too,” chimes Des. Her little voice quivers as she brings her arm around Mom’s neck and gives her another hug. I let my head rest on Momma’s shoulder as long as she will have me there. Then she begins to stir.

  “Okay, my beautiful babies—I’m going to stand up now. Here, give me your hands.” We slip our hands into hers and start walking, clinging to her like we will lose her. We walk to our house at the end of the lane, never taking our eyes off her. Even the Blood Porch is forgotten today.

  Still, I know that there will be time for hard questions and deep emotions later. Time to ask, time to cry more, time to grieve for moments lost, and time to forgive, but this is the time to be happy. As we get closer, I see Gran’s face framed against the screen door, giving way to a smile.

  Chapter 7

  Josephine brought Connie over that same afternoon, but a much different scene played out in our front hall than on the curb of Danziger Crescent. Connie was polite but cool. She gave Mom a cursory hug, then turned to Des and me and gave us both a huge squeeze.

  “Hi, guys—missed you,” Constance whispers in our ears. She is in grade eight now and is looking totally like a young woman. She takes her jacket off and throws it on the hallway bench.

  Josephine follows Connie, holding a casserole dish and wishes Mom well, but she looks tense. Only the Ultimate Being in her infinite wisdom knows what’s going on in Josephine’s head at this moment. She could be wondering if she should trust bringing Connie, her only grandchild, back to her drug-abusing daughter-in-law’s house. She could be thinking that the best thing would be to just grab Connie and run like hell away from us. Maybe she’s worried about the effect of all this on Connie, like I’m hoping my Gran is worrying about me.

  “I brought a lasagna, Dorothy,” says Josephine as she and Gran Dot enter the kitchen. “I figured you could use it.”

  “I’ll take all the help I can get,” Gran responds, taking the casserole dish.

  “Okay, girls.” Momma puts her arms around our shoulders. “Let’s sit a bit and talk, catch up, while the grans are in the kitchen.” She guides us into the living room, wh
ere we wait for her to start the chat.

  Mom looks intensely uncomfortable. After the initial euphoria of the reunion, all our thoughts are focused on the proverbial elephant in the room—her substance abuse and ensuing absence. I wonder how we are going to start, but Destiny takes the lead.

  “Mom, you’re not going to leave us again are you?” she blurts out. I feel a collective sigh escape Connie and me.

  “Oh God, no!” Mom sputters. “No! I will never leave again.” She pauses. “I’m going to work really hard, now that I’m back, to be a good mom for you, be the mom you girls deserve.”

  “What were you doing, Mom?” Constance’s face is pragmatic and unyielding. “Why were you gone? Tell us so we know, right from you, from your own mouth.”

  Mom sits up really straight and sighs. “I’m a drug abuser. And alcohol sometimes, too. That’s all you need to know about that. I will tell you that I used them at first because they helped me to feel better. But after a while, not having them hurt me even more than what I was missing.” Her tone is raw, honest.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Momma. I don’t care what you did—just don’t go away again.”

  ...

  Dinner is awkward by anybody’s standards. Talk gets around to how Josephine will take Connie back to her place, so that she can finish out the week at her school and then come back home to us for the weekend. Mom doesn’t look thrilled.

  “Connie, why don’t you stay over—we can all stay together in the same room tonight and just talk,” begs Mom.

  “I can’t. I have to go to school tomorrow—I have an important performance task on my math unit to finish.”

  “And you have to go to the clinic tomorrow morning, too, Lacey,” Josie reminds Mom.

  Mom slams her knife and fork on her plate. “You know, Josephine, Constance is still my daughter! My daughter.” Her lip is quivering.

  Gran takes in a deep breath and sips some water. “Oh shit,” she murmurs. The rest of us freeze and wait for it.

  Josie sets her knife and fork down, then wipes her lips with a serviette. “Lacey, when you began your life in Toronto, I took in Connie, not only to make things easier for Dorothy, but because she is my son’s daughter. Simon would have wanted me to bring her home—to my home—because I’m the closest thing she had to a father or a mother when you left—”