Chipped

Submitted into Contest #238 in response to: Set your story at a silent retreat.... view prompt

2 comments

Fiction

This story contains themes or mentions of substance abuse.

The steps were chipped. Just like her.

Jules swung her crutches up the stairs, two steps at a time. Her father’s lips twitched upwards like a rubber band that had lost it’s spring.

There hadn’t been a lot to smile about lately.

Jules hadn’t said a word to anyone.

His little girl, whose colt like legs had skipped in rhythm to the rope he’d bought her not too long ago. Singing rhymes with words he’d never heard. Cap on backwards. Ponytail swishing. When had she stopped singing? He longed to hear the thud, thud of rubber sneakers on asphalt again.

He wasn’t there enough. He should’ve left CanvaTech long ago. With those month long trips away from home. He’d told himself they needed the money. He grasped his wife’s fingers, the golden band cutting into his skin.

How did something so beautiful slice so deep?

His eyes were wet as he watched Jules at the top now. They couldn’t follow her in.

While other parents saw their kids off to university, Frank and Carmella saw their daughter off to rehab. This wasn’t the usual type of rehab – it was more of a retreat. They’d watch her through a dark screen. They’d learn her all over again. Learn what drove her, and most importantly how to fix her.

Carmella said it was an invasion of privacy. But Frank disagreed. His wife had always been too righteous. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place. Being with her made him feel almost holy. Like coming home to the warmth of bed after a close call with the cops.

 Safe.

He could forget the life he used to lead and start anew. So that’s what he’d done. Five years and two kids later, he decided he was in it for the long haul and had bought that ring she so desperately seemed to want.

They’d been happy. The life of partying with derelicts and girls, only a distant memory he was happy to let fade.

He watched Carmella gaze intently at the screen they now sat behind. It would be a black wall to Jules, who was looking around the small enclosed space non-specifically, eyes darting.

He still couldn’t comprehend his little girl dabbling in white powders stronger than he had ever done.

There were only three kids at this retreat. They liked to keep the groups small, to encourage a feeling of ease and the building of stronger bonds. The other girl was much taller and well-built than Jules - it must've cost her more to get a trip. The boy was surprisingly small, made thin and wrought from the poison that coursed through him. The three together made an unlikely trio.

A giant girl, a scrawny lad and a one-legged girl.

They are now lying down and the roof turns black like the night sky. It’s a screen. Like the ones Frank worked on, at CanvaTech. So this was what they used them for. They had never really told him. Not that he’d ever thought to ask.

Carmella’s eyes were wide. Even though light wrinkles had appeared around her eyes and her skin was becoming papery and delicate, her eyes retained their youthful wonder. They glistened now like a schoolgirl’s. He put his arm around her and held her tight. He should’ve protected her.

Jules, Giant Girl and Scrawny Boy were all staring up at the stars. Constellations appeared and disappeared. Whisps of smoke floated around them – some form of aromatherapy. The kids looked quite relaxed. They made stories with their minds. Reasons for the stars being the way they were. Why some shone brighter than others. And some had more friends.

Suddenly, the lights come on – harsh and bright. The screen and walls become white. Jules bursts into tears. Giant Girl is rocking back and forth and Scrawny Boy’s eyes are vacant.

Carmella stiffens and Frank holds her even tighter.

She had wanted to send Jules to a nunnery. To learn the ways of the Lord and ask for repentance. She thought they could somehow repair what had been broken.

But Frank told her the Lord couldn’t bring his little girl’s leg back.

Jules needed something more.

Sending her to a Catholic school had clearly not been enough. Would she have suffered the same fate at another school? Like the one he had attended – a red brick public school on the upper East. The kids were from middle class families there. Most of them did quite well for themselves. Especially the girls. They’d become professionals and academics. Married well.

Heck, he had married well too.

Now as they sat shoulder to shoulder watching their little girl face her demons, he wondered how she had discovered the stuff in the first place. Who had shown her what her mind could do under the influence? What the body was capable of? Who had opened all the wrong doors for her, leaving her ravenous for more?

Carmella had turned to faith when she found out. Frank had turned away from it.

Jules was standing up now, staggering towards the screen they were behind. Could she see them? Jules starts hammering the screen so hard that Frank was sure it would burst into a thousand shards of glass. Carmella’s palms are plastered onto the barrier between her and her daughter. Her screams are unheard. He tears her away.

Her wet, stained face looks up at him. Desperate. But she doesn’t ask for it – ask to enter that room, and speak to her darling girl. She turns away and whispers something.

‘What did you say sweetheart?’

‘It’s all my fault’

He holds her in his big, heavy arms. Silent tears wet his cheeks. His poor, poor Carmella.

When she saw Jules’ foot that day, she had rushed her to the hospital. She knew very well what her daughter had done. Seen the dark studded pinpricks on her toes. But she didn’t say a word. When the doctor told Carmella amputation was the only way to save her life, Carmella’s head had bopped up and down, eyes set and steely while her heart splintered into a million pieces.

Jules was laying on the floor now, her remaining three limbs splayed out relaxingly, eyes gently closed. Giant Girl was on her side, knees tucked in and sound asleep like an oversized baby. Scrawny Boy was still awake, blinking at the ceiling. He too, seemed at peace.

The screen had turned to black again, same as the walls. The silent, colourless room seemed to give the trio a sense of solace they couldn’t find in the real world.

Carmella held Frank’s hand, and gently pried his fingers open.

She buried something deep in his palm and held it there for a long time.

Frank looked at his wife. This time, his eyes wide with wonder.

‘Frank I.. it was Richard. I was so lonely when you were gone. She found out. It’s why she started using’.

Frank’s grip tightened and he felt sharp rock cutting into skin.

Frank had always been chipped. But Carmella. She was always perfect.

February 23, 2024 13:47

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

2 comments

Leslie Kirc
18:16 Feb 26, 2024

‘It’s all my fault’ when I read this my first thought was we always say this when things bad happen to our children. Blame ourselves and think what ifs. The last bit of the story made me realize that what we do does affect our children. Wow. it gave me chills

Reply

M W
13:17 Mar 03, 2024

Thank you so much for your comment. I am new to writing so I really appreciate this feedback. I'm glad your enjoyed this story

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

Bring your short stories to life

Fuse character, story, and conflict with tools in Reedsy Studio. 100% free.