Children of Chicago by Cynthia Pelayo

Author:Cynthia Pelayo [Pinter, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Polis Books

CHAPTER 15

“Who is it you see in your room, Fin?”

Fin kicked her legs under her chair, swinging them back and forth. She was tired of being asked questions. She was tired of being here. She was just so very tired.

They were seated in a small white room. Fin on a cream-colored sofa chair directly across from Ruth. Ruth introduced herself as a doctor. Ruth asked a lot of questions.

“I don’t see anything in my room,” Fin muttered. Her hair was slick and oily.

Ruth leaned forward. Fin looked away from her to the small white table beside her. There were colored sheets of construction paper, markers, and crayons. She wanted to reach out and start drawing, but she did not want to be asked questions about what it was she was drawing and why. So, she just looked at the supplies and drew something in her head, something dark on green colored sheets of paper. A scene with looming trees. A tall man. A little girl being led away into the forest.

Something clattered in the hallway and then there was a scream. Ruth reached for her phone in her blazer pocket, but stopped herself from dialing when the noise ceased.

“You can ignore that,” Ruth said. “Sometimes people get very upset being here.”

“Then why should I even be here if it’s an upsetting place?”

“Because we want to make sure people get better. We want to make sure people get the help that they need, and that’s what we want to do for you. Sometimes though, it’s hard getting help. It’s hard to make changes that can make you better.”

Fin looked back down at the paper and then to her hands, fighting the urge to pick up a black crayon and scrawl a picture of the man. In her mind, his arms were reaching out for her. She knew he was waiting for her, somewhere she could taste the earth in the wind, acidic and bitter, where she could hear the creaking of branches, and rustling, rooting, and scrabbling of critters among the leaves, and where she could breathe in deeply, wild mint and rotting wood. In the shade, or sun-dappled leaves, between the fallen twigs, and along the moss he was there. He was always there. If Mo had just moved a little faster, spoken a little less, then they could have met him, and everything would have gone on just like it should. Just like when she had met him the first time.

Fin wondered if she should tell Ruth everything, but then she quickly thought: why would she? Ruth should not be so lucky to know about the man. Fin knew he could get rid of anyone who was making life difficult for you—for a price of course. The price of a life. A life in exchange for peace. What Fin had recently learned, however, was that the man could come back, and if he came back, that meant he needed someone else, another price for continued peace. She did not know he would come back so soon.

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