BY : Lois Pechony
2000©
With all my love and appreciation, to Hanson, my substitute for Prozac and rainbow. Thank you for everything you've done to me.
CHAPTER ONE
It was yet another one of those days, when you see nothing in your near future - as in your nearest future, the upcoming evening, which, you are already guessing, you'll be spending all by yourself, all self pity and begging for mercy from the fate, wishing to find something, somebody, to save you from the loneliness that was your destiny since you were born, and twenty years later will still be there.
But the figure, standing on the stairs of the large building at the end of the street never thought about it.
To look closely, one could see it was a girl, no older than ten years old, skinny and her hair hadn't been combed in a long time, her tiny hands clutched some piece of paper, and she was lifting her eyes and lowering them, every time she was looking at the windows of the building, as if she was looking for somebody to show up there. Nobody did.
She sat down on a stair and sighed, all in her own thoughts, and by the look on her face it was impossible to understand what she was thinking. She kept glancing at the piece of paper, kept holding it like for dear life, and it looked like she was alone. Not the kind of alone, when you're just waiting for your friend to come and he's late; the kind of the real alone, when you can wait for eternity, and still, nobody will show up on the horizon.
She stood again on her feet, when she saw a tall man coming into the building. He gave her a quick look, but never paid attention to her. She looked at him, when he walked away from her, and then glanced again at the paper - the window - the man - and sat down.
The tall man stepped inside the small apartment on the third floor, his own little home, which showed exactly that his resident was a young man with no presence of a woman in his life. He threw his coat on the couch and turned on the phone answering machine, to check the messages.
"Ike, call me - it's Mom. Are you okay? We haven't heard from you in ages."
This was the only message; it seemed like he expected there to be at least one more, but there were none, and he turned off the machine and dialed to his mother, to calm her down.
His talk was soon interrupted by a slight knock on the front door, and he told his mother that he had stuff to do, glad to finish the talk. They were getting into the too-much-painful to touch subject again, like she was always doing, pushing him to talk about it, and he confronted her about it once, saying that he can deal by himself, being a man with a lifetime of twenty years behind him.
He hanged up and then walked towards the door. The knocking repeated itself one more time, just a second before he opened the door. When opened it, he saw the girl he walked by just half an hour ago, the one who was sitting on the stairs and he thought her to be one of the young beggers for spare change.
"Are you Isaac Hanson?" she asked him, quietly, as if she couldn't talk louder or was afraid to do it. He nodded.
"Hi. My name is Cassie. Can I come in?"
He never let strangers in his house, it was an unbreakable rule, but a little girl couldn't be much of a danger, and she seemed pretty miserable. He was sure in her being a begger, and maybe she only wanted some food and clothes. He nodded his head again, and she walked shyly into the apartment, and he followed her.
"Can I sit?" she asked, and he pointed on the couch, but she didn't sit on it; instead, she sat down in the corner of the room, directly on the floor. Isaac pulled a chair and sat on it in front of her.
"So, what do you want?" he asked, wanting her to get her wishes and get out, so he could continue working. She remained silent, staring at him with big eyes, full of adoration and sadness. "What do you want?" he repeated, this time more softly.
"Can I stay here?" It was nothing but a whisper, coming out of the mouth of a child, but it was like a thunder for him.
"What?"
"Can I stay here?"
"No, you can't stay here. What do you think, that I am some convent, to receive every child?" He stood up, as if to show her that the conversation is over, but she remained sitting. "Do you hear me? Now, if you want, I'll give you some money, and go home."
"I don't have a home."
"Everybody has a home."
"Everybody - except me."
"Then where do you live?"
"I used to live with my stepdad, but he doesn't want me anymore, now that he remarried. I lived in that gray building for a few weeks, under the stairs, but there are rats there, and I am scared of them." He could see it was the truth, she looked exactly how one would look after two weeks under the stairs.
"So what do you want from me?"
"To keep me."
"I can't do that. What are you expecting from me, to be your daddy?"
"No... or yes. I don't know... Isaac... Mr. Hanson, I don't have nobody and nowhere to go." She looked at him, and he saw tears in her eyes.
"How do you know my name? And how did you get to me?"
She lowered her eyes. "Do you remember that you've dated Marianne?"
"What? How do you know that?" She was sure a girl of many mysteries, he couldn't imagine something like that falling on him.
"Her younger sister, Lisa, she was my best friend. And Marianne used to talk to us about guys and she also talked about you, when you were together, and she told us how you were such a great man and how much you cared for her. Lisa told me where you live, a few months ago, and I thought I'd never need it, but it was as if Lisa predicted everything."
"If you have this Lisa, best friend, go and live with her. I can't take you."
"I can't go to her." she spoke even quieter than she did earlier, and he leaned closer to her for the sake of hearing her words.
"Why?"
"She's not here."
"Well, where is she?"
"She's not here."
"Yeah, I got that part," he said with a bit of annoyance in his voice, and she sensed it. "She'll be back and then go and stay with her."
"She's not here, Mr. Hanson," repeated Cassie, and he saw her eyes filling with tears.
As he saw it, her best friend was either really far from her, either she was deceased. He decided to ask no more.
"Mr. Hanson, please, I don't have anywhere to go. I could only think of you, I don't have anybody, I only know you, because of what Marianne told us. I thought I could manage on my own, but it is so cold there, and I am terrified by the rats. Please, keep me. I'll die there."
He started walking back and forth in the living room, almost going insane in an instant. Out of the blue he's asked to take care of a girl, whom he'd never seen before, but how is he going to do it?
"Cassie - is that's your name? - I can't do it. How old are you, nine, ten?"
"Twelve." But she looked much younger, probably as a result of the last two weeks.
"Twelve. It means that you'll be there for six years, until you're old enough to manage on your own, this time for real. I can't take care of you. I have no idea how to raise a twelve years old girl. I've never had children."
"But where will I go?"
"Do you have any relatives?" She shook her head 'no'. "Then go to an orphanage. Cassie, you have nothing to do with me. I can't raise you."
"You don't need to raise me. I've raised myself. All I need is a place to live and somebody to count on."
"You are too young to understand it. If I'll take you, I'll have to raise you as if you were my daughter. I'll be forced by my consciousness."
"Mr. Hanson... please... I don't have anybody else!"
"Shit," he murmured. The situation the fate got him into was too complicated to understand and deal with in a minute; he wanted to send her away, but she sat there quietly in the corner, her eyes begging, pleading, she seemed desperate. But even if he wanted to do something for her, he meant it when told her he didn't know how to raise her, and he preferred doing nothing at all than doing it badly.
"You stay here for a couple of days," said he finally, "but then you'll go. Find yourself somebody else to live with. I can only manage taking care of you for a few days."
"But if I'll be good, will you keep me? I can cook for you, and I can clean the apartment, and I can do everything..." He looked ather, and she changed her way of sitting, and he understood what she meant by saying 'everything'. She was even ready to sleep with for home and somebody trustful.
"Slut," he whispered, and luckily, she didn't hear him. "I don't need your everything. I am not into sleeping with minors. Now, I've got work to do. Go take a bath, you're dirty."
"I don't have anything to change into."
He walked into his bedroom and took his bathrobe and handed it to her. "I guess it will be giant for you, but I don't have girls' clothes around here."
She disappeared inside the bathroom and closed the door, realizing she won't need to sleep with him as a thank you. At twelve, she learned the facts of life in an ugly way, and although she'd never done it, she knew that she could offer her body... her undeveloped body of a child.
He sat in front of his computer and sighed, thinking about what happened in the past hour. It never happened to him before, and he wondered, was it a message from destiny?
Cassie told him that Marianne told good stuff about him... Woman's nature, how quickly things turn around and the black becomes white and the fantasy becomes the nightmare... But even after all, she never treated him badly. It was like she was trying to make up for what she'd done, although they both knew she'll never have a success in that, and he was too much in a pain for a too great amount of time to forgive her, when she bakes him a cake or buys him a birthday present.
He wiped the lonely tear, the tears were still there every time he remembered her, and turned on the computer. He heard the water running in the shower, and if he closed his eyes and let his imagination flow, he could imagine that in there was not Cassie but Marianne, just like two years ago, when they shared an apartment for seven months, behaving like a married couple at eighteen, making love endlessly and making breakfasts for each other.
He clicked on a couple of things and opened the file he wanted. He read a few lines, then put his hands on the keyboard and started typing. As usual, he lost himself in the world of fantasy which writing provided non-stop, and didn't hear Cassie, when she stepped into the room.
"Mr. Hanson, what are you writing?" she asked, and he was awake from his own world by the sound of her voice.
"A novel."
"It's nice. What is it about?"
"You're too young to understand."
"You are a novelist? Marianne never told that."
"I've started it after she was gone."
"What happened between you?"
He stared into the black eyes of the child, wondering why he's answering all of her questions; well, not that one. "Again, you're too young to understand."
"I've spent only twelve years on this planet, but I understand more than kids my age do," she said with a smile, to melt the ice between them.
"Maybe. But you won't understand that one. It's a grown-ups thing."
"Okay."
She sat quietly on the floor near the chair he was sitting on. "Mr. Hanson, thank you for having me."
"It's only for a few days. Remember that."
"I know..." When he reminded her that, she got the expression of sadness and despair on her face, knowing that the roof above her head is not permanent.
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes."
"Go to the kitchen and find something to eat. I am not much of a cook, but you said you can do it, so do whatever you want there."
She walked out of the room and he sank again in the world of fiction. An easy escape from everybody and everything, where the world cannot reach him, even if he needed desperately, all he need to do to disappear is to open this certain file and he's no longer himself, he is everything he wants to be and he can do anything he wants. That was the beginning, but transforming himself into others was an easy worn-out idea, and after a year of that he was the watching person in others' world, a world created by him, but wasn't a part of it. He watched the characters from the corner, he'd directed their moves and feelings, and that became the most attractive thing he's ever done.
His family never knew about it. He never wanted to tell them; obviously, they will come to know it, when and if he'll get something published, but somehow, at some point, from the point where his family is the most important thing, they all moved to be with the rest of the world, all casual and without any idea about his soul.
Cassie came back and handed him a cup of coffee. He thanked her, and thought she'll be out again, but she sat on the floor and watched him, as he typed another few lines. But he couldn't stand being watched during the process of writing.
"Cassie, did you eat anything?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now, go and rest. I assume that being with rats didn't give you much time to sleep in that building."
"Can I be here? With you?"
Again, a look of pleading in her eyes; a lonely child, the most saddening sight, and nobody can resist it. Isaac was no exception.
"Okay, you can rest on my bed. But the typing might disturb you."
"Not as much as the rats."
She fell asleep in an instant, and he continued writing - at least he tried to, but the words seemed to stop their flow and instead of them, came the thoughts and the concerns. He couldn't understand what he'll do with her. He can't send her back to the rats, they'll eat her - it's a miracle they hadn't in those two weeks. But she was all alone.
She even didn't want to be in another room, where a wall would come between her and him. Marianne probably had done a good job, when described him, otherwise this girl wouldn't come begging for a life to somebody, whom she'd never known. How desperate Cassie must have been...
But no, he won't do it. He can't do it. He can't take on himself the huge responsibility of raising an unknown child. There are places for orphans, for abandoned children, there are orphanages and foster homes, there are charity schools, she will be all right, raised properly by people who learned how to do it, people with an experience, not a bachelor guy who lives by himself and never keeps in touch with his family. How would he do it? No, it's ridiculous even considering it. He doesn't know her. She might be a drug addict, she might have a life-threating disease, and he won't know what to do in case something will happen, she might be a psychotic, a lunatic, whatever, you name it. She is asking for the impossible, and it's a common fact, that no matter how hard you'll wish to have the moon, you still won't get it.
She slept peacefully on his bed, her hair, now combed, covered almost entirely her small face and her hands clutched the pillow. Two weeks with the rats. A proper bed seems like heaven for her. He sat there and watched her chest moving, as she breathed, her legs pressed to her tummy, she had the position of a baby in the womb - must have been a habit from sleeping on a cold night under the stairs.
It was not before an hour passed by when he walked out of the apartment, leaving a note for Cassie to not worry, and to feel at home.
It was a cold February evening, and he thought, when hurrying to the mall, about how it must have been, considering those cold nights, to live practically on the streets. She came to him even without a coat. He passed near the building where she told him she'd been lived and couldn't resist but step inside and look at it. It was a small place under the stairs, filthy, with a lot of newspapers in it - it used to be her bed. He heard a squeak and turned to face red eyes and dirty, white fur of a rat. It was her roommate.
He entered the mall ten minutes afterwards and headed straight to the children's clothes store. He asked for clothes for a twelve years old girl and described her height and figure. He stepped out with a huge bag and headed to a candy shop.
Cassie woke up to find an empty apartment and a note. She wondered whether Isaac went to look for an orphanage for her. The thought brought tears of frustration to her eyes, and she wiped them immediately. She learned that crying won't help, but it will give a headache, which will only disturb her. She wanted to read his novel, but he turned the computer and he didn't want to try and look for it, in case she'll screw something up and then he'll kick her out in a few minutes. She went to the bookshelf and started to read the headlines of the books, when she heard the sound of a key, opening the locked door.
Isaac left the bag in the living room and went to see if she was still asleep. He was welcomed with a shy smile and smiled back at her.
"Let's go," he told her and the smile disappeared from her face.
"But... but you said that you'll keep me for a few days..." She thought it was all over now, and she's going to an orphanage.
"To the living room, Cassie."
"Oh."
He went out, his hand holding hers, so small it disappeared in his big hand and she went after him, her eyes looked with admiration at his back, wondering why he suddenly became nice to her, when earlier he was cold and distanced.
He told her to sit down and she sat on the floor near the couch, and he handed her the bag with clothes and the small one, with candies. Her eyes grew wide and curious as she took the bags.
"Open them, it's for you," Isaac said, watching her every move, as she slowly opened them both and raised her eyes to him, questioning him about the going on.
"Cassie, I'll keep you," he said, slowly and quietly. "I can't send you away. I went to your place of living for the past weeks. It's horrible. Maybe I can't give you much, I don't have a lot of money or experience with raising kids, but at least I can provide you a bed and a place with no rats."
"Thank you," she whispered, jumping up from the floor and embracing him, hiding her head on his chest, and he sighed, holding the little creature. "I promise I'll be good," she said, straightening up and staring in his eyes. "I promise."
"You'll better be. If you are wild, I won't be able to keep you. Tomorrow we will have a long talk about what's going to be with you, but now it's getting late. I don't want to drag this into the night. And I need to work."
"Okay, I won't disturb you. I'll be good, Mr. Hanson."
"Don't call me this way, I am not thirty years old. It's Isaac, okay?"
"Okay. Isaac."
"Good. Now, watch TV or amuse yourself somehow, and I want you to sleep in ten p.m. Understood?"
"Yes."
She stayed watching TV, right after she tried on the clothes he bought her, and he went to his room, to continue writing. He knew that his life won't be the same from now on. It was like he turned to be a dad overnight, suddenly there was a little creature counting on him with his existing, and it made him a bit scared, knowing that it is an unmeasurable responsibility, and a full time job.
But even though he never raised a child, he had younger siblings... And he didn't see them in a lot of time... And there is always the very first time.
He sighed, and thought that tomorrow he should probably go and buy some books about parenting, like "How To Deal With A Teenager"... He caught himself thinking about him handling her boys problems in a couple of years.