Page 5 of Praying for Thunder

From Ani’s shoulder, and hidden under a blanket, my face only showing enough for me to breathe, I waved to Stew’s headlights as he waited until we got inside. He hated where we lived but understood that Anita had private reasons for her every action and decision.

With Stew at the club, Anita didn’t make me wear a hat. She didn’t wear one there either, like she always did otherwise. She let me have my own bed. She let me be out of her sight. At our small one-bedroom home, things were different. We both would slip into a different mode. The raggedy green floral drapes were always shut tight, doors were locked, and I was with her everywhere she went. Even in the bathroom. We slept in the same bed, a hand always touching me.

I was far too young to comprehend the ‘why’ of her nervous side when we were by ourselves, but I felt it and never fought her demands. In fact, I believed it made me need to be around her, also.

Little did I know, the hats, sunglasses, and her dancer mask were covering more than a scar. She was protecting me—keeping me hidden away from the horrors she knew all too well. The ones she feared still searched for us.

THREE

SCARRED SOULS AND THE DEVIL

One year later…

“Jesus, Anita, look at this!” Moola was holding up a drawing, absolute shock riveting her face.

Anita was sitting at her station, looking in the mirror while brushing her long hair. The hairbrush stopped in mid-stroke when she saw what I had drawn. Her eyes flew to Candi, who was letting me sit in her lap while I played with the gifts she had brought me today. They were a clipboard, a bunch of plain paper, and a box of black sketching pencils. We were in my firetruck bed, with Ani’s backpack emptied all around our legs.

Ani’s throat bobbed before she asked, “Did you help him with that?”

I peered over my shoulder to look at Candy. The unshed tears in her green eyes trembled as she whispered, “No, Anita.”

Nervously, Ani sat forward in her chair as she scanned the dressing room. “Then who did?”

“He did it.” Candy’s breathing was labored. “I thought he doodled really good in his coloring books, so I thought he might like the freedom of his own paper. But… I didn’t know—” Her sweet eyes glanced at the paper shaking in Moola’s grip.

Silence consumed the room.

Moola was suddenly kneeling in front of me, her ragged breaths landing on my face. “Baby, can you draw this for Aunt Moo-Moo?”

It was only a bottle of water, but becoming somewhat alarmed due to her panicky state because I subconsciously recognized her fear, I shook my head no and reached for Ani.

She rushed to me, our inner soul magnets finding each other as soon as I was in her firm and loving embrace. She held my head to her shoulder, my body now taking up more of hers. “Shh, Ani has you, Little Guy.”

From my bed, Candy dared to ask, “Who is she, Anita?”

Ani rocked me back and forth as her voice cracked. “An angel from the past.” She blew out air and then asked, “Can you please put her picture back in my wallet? Hidden again?”

Candy sounded so affected by Anita’s emotional state. “Of course. Of course.” She put Ani’s backpack back together. And when there was a knock on the door, she quickly said, “I’m coming.” Getting up from the bed, Candy straightened her tiny skirt, dabbed under her red eyes, grabbed her candy cane, blew us a kiss, and then left the room, sure to shut the door behind her.

Alone in the room with us, Moola set her shoulders back as she came to us, laying her hand gently on my back. “Are you okay, girl?”

Anita was struggling to stay composed. “Thank you for never asking questions.”

She swore, “For some of us, secrets can be deadly.”

Adamantly, Ani nodded, tightening her arms around me. “Yes, even to the innocent.”

A crack showed in Moola’s strong persona as she wiped a tear charging down her made-up face. She nodded, too, her jaw locking. “You keep doing anything it takes for him.”

Anita cried for two seconds before catching control again. “Always. Even if it means my own demise.”

Moola threw her arms around us both and cried. “I knew that the early morning you finally woke, screaming for ‘Niño’.”

Inhaling deeply, Anita pulled back to look into my eyes. My little hand reached up and wiped her wet eyes as she whispered, “She only got one touch of this beautiful baby.”

Moola covered her mouth as she was allowed inside a well-hidden part of Anita’s past. After recovering, she lifted her chin, proudly stating, “Every single day, I have watched you try to make up for such a loss.”

Anita pulled my head back to her shoulder. “He is a gift.”