Lost Souls - 11. Victoria-Ann Cantrell- Electric Bill

The living room of the old, wooden house was dimly lit. A large, drafty den fit for a creature; it had old family photos of this creature and other miscellaneous things decorated all around it. The wooden mantle housed dusty rugby trophies, scratched and scraped…warped from their gold, lustrous pride by time and time did not forget the creature. It sat in the corner facing an ajar glass window. He was a bald-headed, decrepit mess of wrinkles tattooed across his face and bags that weighed down his eyes to form two gray, sagging bulges. The window was draped with a soft white curtain that swayed as the breeze entered.

A young, black woman wearing blue scrubs entered the room, “You have a visitor Sir,” she said softly. The home nurse was a petite thing with short, curly hair. She wore a bright smile and held a tall glass of water in both hands as she welcomed the old man’s visitor into the living room.

“Who is it,” he said coughing.

“Its your niece, mister Cantrell,” she replied, taking a small yellow bottle of pills from her pocket.

“My what?” he gasped.

“You've become old and forgetful I see,” Victoria said. She wore a yellow, turtle-neck sweater and black slacks.

“You can go now Cassandra,” he said, waving his hand.

Cassandra walked up to Rufus, “You need to take these.” She held out the glass of water.

“I'll do it!” Victoria took the glass and pills from Cassandra.

“Make sure he takes two pills,” Cassandra smiled. “Mister Cantrell hates to take his heart medication but he needs it.”

Victoria nodded with a smile. “I'll see to it.” She watched as Cassandra left the room and heard the door close. She sauntered to the other side of Rufus' sofa chair, facing him, leaning on the window sill.

“Now about those pills....” He stretched out his hand.

Victoria opened the cap and began emptying the bottle through the open window. “You won't need them.”

Rufus grinned. It was a toothless grin of mere gum with one or two yellow teeth being seen from behind his dry, cracked lips. “Well, well, well...look at my little Vicky all grown up,” he laughed. He began coughing, like a cat trying to pony up a fur ball.

“Look at you,” she said pointing. “You've really let yourself go haven't you.”

“Some things I can still do....” he said grabbing his crotch.

Victoria threw the glass of water in Rufus' face. “Old pig!”

“How dare you!” he coughed, wiping the water from his eyes. “If I was stronger I'd deal with you good.”

“You'd rape me again?” she asked. “You'd show me what a big, strong 'man' you are? You'd teach me a lesson?”

“Fuck yes!”

Victoria stood up straight, “You destroyed me! You piece of shit!”

“I took you in when no one else would, you ungrateful girl!” Rufus' voice doubled in bass. “I gave you a roof over your head and food in your mouth! I made sure they didn't send you to an orphanage with other unwanted bastards!”

“Rather that than spend a day living with you.....” Victoria snared. “I would have rather been....” She stopped. Victoria noticed the shocked gaze Rufus wore. She looked down at her hands; her fingers sparked.

“W-what the fuck!” Rufus gasped.

Victoria stepped toward the old man; he crouched down into the chair as if trying to melt through the bottom. “You don't deserve anything less than death. You're long overdue.”

“Is that what 'he' deserved as well?” Rufus asked. Victoria froze. Hands dropped. The pink in Rufus' face slowly returned as he saw the life drain from within his niece's eyes.

“No....” she replied.

“Then why?” Rufus asked. “Why him?”

“It was your fault! Yours!” Victoria snared.

“NO!” Rufus stood from his sofa chair. Even as a sickly old man his baritone voice boomed, shaking every bone in Victoria-Ann's body; her teeth tingled with fear as the old man bombarded her. “It was your fault he's dead. You are the murderer and you want to murder me like you did him!”

Victoria fell into the chair.

“You!” Rufus accused.

“No....” Victoria said, shaking her head.

“Killed!” he pointed.

“No....”

“My son!” Rufus exclaimed.

Victoria sat stunned in the old sofa chair. Her nails were deeply embedded into its cushioned arms, tearing the fabric. She began thinking of that day; the day when her world changed. Victoria lost more than her virginity to the old bastard. As she leaned back into the chair, Victoria found the energy to mouth heavy words; they weighted down her lips causing them to tremble uncontrollably as they left her tongue.

“H-He...” she stuttered. “He was my son too....”

For a moment, Victoria let her words fill the stiff air, bringing silence between the two. She began to reminisce

....................

The young girl stood within the church's large doorway; its polished mahogany doors ajar as she looked down the isle. Wrapped in a frazzled, gray sweater and matching scarf covering her slender neck, she sneaked to the back pew. Her head was covered with a black cap; she held herself close, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. She made herself small as a group of mature, black women stood near the alter; they seemed to be fawning over something. The girl, 18, ran her fingers along the smooth pew in front of her, letting the polished wood tickle her fingertips before leaning on it. She continued to watch the women.

“Its a real shame,” a husky woman's voice said. “This sort of thing keep happening too regular.”

The girl jumped, “What?” she asked startled. The girl looked to her right and saw a corpulent, black woman standing over her; she looked to be in her fifties. She wore a white tee-shirt with the writing '100% BAJAN' on the front in blue and yellow letters, black sweat pants and a black sweater unzipped at the front. Her long, black hair was pulled neatly into a bun showing gray streaks leading from her forehead to the navy- blue ruffle that tied everything together in the back.

“Haven't you seen it?” The woman asked, her eyes looking at the girl from above her thin- framed glasses. They looked too narrow for her wide face and large cheeks. Her cheeks were like small plums on the side of her face.

“No,” the girl replied.

“Then you must have heard it!” The woman stated, pointing at the alter.

As one of the large, heavy-set women moved, the girl noticed a small, woven basket. Two tiny feet covered in white socks were kicking.

“A baby....” the girl said.

“We found it down by the community center a few blocks from here...outside, in the cold.” She folded her arms. “Luckily me and some friends were on our way here to see the Pastor 'cause that community center was closed.” She sighed, “That poor child would have frozen to death.”

“It was closed?” the girl's green eyes widened.

“Uh huh. My name is Marva,” she said sitting down.

“Okay.”

She examined the girl, taking note of her trembling hands. “Whoever leave that child down by the community center can't be from round here. Everybody out this side knows it closes at 8.”

“I see.”

“I never see you before,” she said, tilting her head toward the now very apparently nervous girl. “What's your name sweetie?”

“Why?” the girl demanded.

Marva stared at the young girl, her deep brown eyes piercing through her glasses. “Why what?”

The girl rolled her eyes, taking in a deep breath. As she did so, she could see the women standing at the alter now looking down at them with curiosity. She exhaled, releasing an exhausting sigh. “Vicky....” She mumbled.

“Pardon? I ain't catch that,” Marva said, leaning more toward the girl.

“Its Victoria....Victoria-Ann.”

“That's a fancy name though,” Marva cackled. She glanced up at the women at the alter. “So what bring you to we church? Not that I being malicious or anything,” Marva smiled. “But you know God don't always come, but he does send.”

“Excuse me?” Victoria asked confused.

Just then, one of the women from the alter walked over to Marva and Victoria, holding the baby. His eyes were large and green and his hair light brown. He was outfitted in a blue 'onesie' and wrapped in a thick, white blanket. The woman handed the baby to Marva.

“Its a shame though,” Marva began. Victoria's eyes wouldn't catch the boy's toothless smile as he fussed in Marva's arms.

“What's that?”

“He probably won't ever know who he real parents are. We soon have to take he to the hospital and after that....” She paused, looking at Victoria.

“Then what?”

“He would get adopted within months to only God knows who; I pray God look after this child, hear?”

“Maybe its the best thing for him,” Victoria added. Victoria's mouth trembled as she tried to hold back her smile grinned a she glanced over her shoulder.

Marva saw the bruises on Victoria's forearm, and spirals that looked like cigarette burns “Maybe....”

“Marva,” the woman said. “He out dey.”

“Tell he I coming dey now,” she replied.

Victoria sat up, “Who's that?” She asked concerned.

“She mean my son Jackson. He driving we to the hospital so we could get this baby check out.” Marva tucked the baby's blanket closer into him. “He can't be no more than a few days old.” She whined. “Stupse.”

“And that's it?”

“Yes.” Marva stood up, holding the baby boy against her bosom. “Just like that, he's an orphan now...abandoned by he parents. I just wish the mother had a second chance to think 'bout it.”

Victoria wanted to speak but her lips wouldn't unzip and air from her lungs seemed to evaporate before reaching her voice box. She wanted to say how much it ached her to leave Dominick by that community center; she wanted to tell Marva that she didn't know it would be closed and that her baby's father was an unscrupulous tyrant. Most of all she wanted to tell Marva to give him back- Dominick was hers and she loved him from the first time she saw him. She wanted to but her mouth wouldn't open, her voice wouldn't speak and her heart wouldn't stop beating so hard that she felt like she was having a heart attack. A handsome black man walked through the church door holding an umbrella to shield Marva and Dominick from the falling rain. He glanced at Victoria and her eyes begged him not to go. They were leaving. The door closed. They were gone....

The women at the alter joined hands in prayer; Victoria stared at them through her tear- saturated eyes. She fell into a trance as she began to think of what she'd say to Rufus when she returned home without a baby. Maybe she had an accident...not like the bastard cared. Maybe Dominick still-born and never got a chance to breathe the same air as his wretched father.