Hope

“I can’t sleep,” throwing the blanket off in a huff and staring at the ceiling, Clara whispers into the darkness, “you’ve got to be kidding me.” She reaches blindly for her phone that she’d left on the floor beside the thin mattress. Squinting at the sudden glare, she groans at the time, “Shit, 2:25 and I have so much to do in the morning and instead of sleeping I’m laying here…talking to myself apparently.”

Clara swings her legs around and sits, resting her head on her bony knees she scrubs her hands through short messy hair. She stops to listen. It’s so quiet here, unnervingly so. It’s so quiet that her own breathing is too loud in her ears and every slight gust of wind outside sounds like someone breaking in. She’d lived on constant alert too long to be comfortable in silence. Footsteps in the hall make her sit up straight, not breathing so she can hear.

“Mom?”

Clara sighs in relief, “Hey, bud. Why you up baby?” Turning the phone screen to light the way, she waits for Petey to make his way through the bags of clothes around her bed. He folds himself up next to her, just like he’s done since he was a toddler.

Petey’s almost as tall as Clara, even though he’s only 10. All knees and elbows, he rests his head on her shoulder with a sigh. “It’s too loud here, I can’t sleep.”

Clara snorts, “Too loud? You crazy? It’s so quiet I can hear my heartbeat, your heartbeat, heartbeat of that little mouse I saw in the kitchen earlier.”

“Mom,” he interrupts her, and she can almost hear his eyes roll though it’s so dark she can just barely make out his boney knees poked out from under the oversized white t-shirt he wore to bed. “I mean it’s so loud quiet, like there’s no cars and it’s dark, and I can hear my breathing too much and….”

Clara let Petey sit quietly and think. She knew exactly what he meant. Two years sleeping in their car, parking lots and alleys, the occasional hotel or friend’s driveway, but two years in a car changes a person. Sometimes she wondered if Petey even remembered the home they had before his father was killed.

It was a nice little apartment downtown. Nothing big, just a cozy one bedroom that they’d moved into when they got married. Clara had gotten pregnant with Petey almost right away and they were so happy. When he was born, they put up a curtain and made him a little bedroom out of the dining room area. Clara had a job in the evenings. Mac would come home from his day shift at the paper mill, sweep Clara into a scorching kiss and swat her butt as she took the keys from him and drove down to the all-night diner for her shift. She’d always peek back in before closing the door and watch Mac sprawl out next to Petey, earning a big toothless grin.

It was their happy little life until the accident at the mill. They covered it up and said Mac and his team hadn’t followed protocol. Clara never believed it; Mac was always careful and would often complain about the mill being behind on safety regs. But what could she do? The mill paid for the funeral and gave her a few thousand dollars. Widows’ pay they called it. Hush money Clara’s friends called it. Clara kept her job at the diner but it was hard because Petey wasn’t old enough for school and babysitters were expensive. It didn’t take long before they had to leave their little apartment and move back home with Clara’s Momma.

She lived out in the middle of nowhere, not a job to be found. Luckily, Mac’s old Honda Civic still worked and Clara was able to find a job at the grocery store 30 minutes away. Clara’s Momma took care of Petey while Clara was at work and Petey and Clara would curl up together in the little twin bed that had been hers before her and Mac had gotten married. She’d hug little Petey against her and cry silent tears, missing Mac and wondering how in the world she was going to manage. She’d finally fall asleep listening to the gentle breaths of her son.

“Mom,” Petey shifts against her, “is this really home now?”    

Clara looks around at the bare white walls and trash bags full of clothes on the floor. It’s their first night in the little cottage, a sweet little two-bedroom house with property that backs up to a park and is bordered by a nice little church on one side.

Clara sighs, “yeah, Petey, it’s home now.”

“How long?” Petey asks.

Silence stretches between them. Clara doesn’t know how to answer that because she’s afraid of hope now and she’s always promised not to lie to Petey. Hope was like a calm before a storm and Clara has had more storms than she ever thought possible. After living with Momma for a few years, Petey was in school, and Clara had been promoted to shift manager at the grocery store. But Momma had a stroke and then fell soon after, making Clara miss more work than her manager liked. They tried to work with her, adjust her schedule and cut her back on hours and Clara thought maybe she could pull through when they put Momma in a nursing home. But she didn’t stay there long and was soon home under Hospice Care.

Momma passed away in her sleep early on a Sunda morning, just as the sun was peeking through the trees. Clara had fallen asleep in the chair watching over her and something woke her up. Momma looked over at her and gave her a soft smile, she closed her eyes and let out a long slow breath as she left this world. Clara cried for days after. She cried for her Momma, she cried for her son who loved his grandmother dearly. She cried for herself and for the shame she held at feeling relieved to not have to take care of her Momma anymore. She cried because that last breath brought hope that she’d be able to get back to work full time and maybe just stay in this little house in the middle of nowhere and live a quiet life with Petey.

A few weeks after Momma’s funeral, the landlord had come by and told Clara she’d have to leave in a month or renew the lease in her name. Clara said that she’d like to stay and so the landlord handed her the new lease. Clara’s heart had nearly stopped. The rent was almost triple what he’d been charging her mother.

The landlord had shrugged and said “Well, ya know, times are tough, and she’d lived here a long time. I gotta live too.” Clara had just stared at him, the lease falling between them. “I guess, that’ll be 30 days then?” he’d said after Clara hadn’t moved to pick up the pages. She just nodded and closed the door.

They had moved around a bit, sleeping on friends’ couches, but that hadn’t been sustainable, and Clara hadn’t been able to keep a job that way. Finally, she decided to pack up the old Honda and drive back to where her and Mac had lived. The pain was too much, surrounded by all the places they had been, and she couldn’t breathe for the pain all of the memories brought. After a few nights of sleeping in her car, they moved on and found a new town.

Clara applied at every store and restaurant, finally landing a job at Walmart. There was a gym close by, where her and Petey could shower, and she set it up for the school bus to pick him up at Walmart since she worked there. She didn’t make enough to afford rent, but she made enough to feed them and keep them clean and clothed. It’s amazing what can become normal. They slept in the car but lived their lives in parks and libraries, strolling through stores when it was too cold to be outside, and huddling around shared cups of hot chocolate. There were always people and always lights.

But she knew it was no way to raise her son.

She reached out for help, some local churches and homeless organizations. They helped her with a few nights at a hotel or a hot meal, but they all said the same thing, “the housing market is hard, you have to keep looking.” So, she looked. Every waking moment she felt like she was looking for a rental. Her and Petey used to joke that they were both going to make great real estate agents someday.

They would huddle around a computer at the library, searching all the listings they could find and, sometimes, Petey would insist she click on a truly extravagant home. “Now, as you can see,” Petey would say in his best posh British accent, his little boy voice making it even funnier, “this lovely home comes in a bit small with five bedrooms and only four bathrooms, but you may find the size charming and quaint if you give it a chance.” He would go on like that until Clara had tears streaming down her face and they were getting dirty looks from the librarian.

There were a few brushes with success. She had applied at three different places and the landlords had seemed to really like her and Petey. But her credit was terrible, and she didn’t have any rental history since her and Mac’s place and that hadn’t ended well. She stopped telling Petey when she applied because the look of broken hope was too much. So, she applied when he was at school and when he’d ask about a new place, she would just shrug and say “somethin’ll come baby, don’t worry.”

They would curl up together in the back seat of that little Honda Civic, sometimes wrapped in a blanket and sometimes sprawled out with the windows down, but always together. They got so used to it that the constant hum of life became their lullaby and now, wrapped together in this perfect little house, the silence is too much.

Clara kisses the top of Petey’s head, “Well,” she paused trying to find the right balance between truth and hope, “the case manager says they can help for a little bit. It depends on how much help we need and how their funding is.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Means they can help us a few months.”

Petey leaned back against her, quiet again.

“You wanna try to go back to bed?”

He shook his head, “Can’t sleep in there. I told you it’s too loud, or too quiet, or too…” his breath hitched, “Momma?”

“Yeah, baby?” She closed her eyes. He only called her Momma when he was sick or upset and she could feel his breathing change, fighting tears.

“I don’t wanna have to leave and live in the car again in a few months. I wanna have a house, Momma, like the other kids.” His voice was thick with tears.

“I know, baby. Me too.” She stroked his head and rocked with him, gently like she had since he was a baby. “I’m trying, Petey.” And she was trying. She had applied for a promotion at work, but she hadn’t told him about it. She didn’t trust the hope and didn’t want him to be let down again. Her managers all liked her and had encouraged her to apply. The raise would be enough to pay for rent but little else. Still, it was a step, and she liked the people she worked with.  

Petey sniffed and coughed, “Momma?” He wanted so hard to be strong for her. So many people told him he needed to be strong for her, grown up, but she hated that he felt he had to. His childhood had been caught in a storm and torn apart all because of a stupid accident at that mill.

She pulled him in tighter, “Yeah, baby?”

“Can I sleep in here? Just for tonight?”

Clara smiled, “Of course. Go run and grab your pillow and that new blanket.”

Petey jumped up and bounded out of the room. Clara called after him, “and go pee before you come back in here.”

Petey laughed, “yeah, ok!”

Being able to use the bathroom whenever they wanted, just by walking down the hall, was a luxury they were both enjoying. They had both taken long showers before bed, enjoying the privacy and extravagance of their own bathroom. Petey had taken all of the things out of his little bag that he took to the gym and placed them in the little medicine cabinet above the sink. Clara had done the same, even before unpacking anything else.

It was strange how much little things like that impacted them both.

Clara hears the toilet flush and the sounds of Petey washing his hands down the hall. She smiles hearing him hum a little, dragging the blanket behind him.

“Ok, Mom?” Her confident young man was back, the little boy who had just been crying in her arms hidden away again. She marvels at how fast he is growing up, but then hardship hardens, even though she worked hard to keep it from him as much as she could. She often wonders how much it had changed her, from that silly girl who ran off and married Mac, living in their bright little apartment, to now.

“Ok, Petey. You ready to get some sleep now?”

He answers with a huge yawn. Crawling onto the mattress he makes a show of fluffing both of their pillows, “Now, Madam,” He says in his most posh British real estate agent voice, “as you can see the bedchambers are most luxurious with the best pillows money can buy.”

Clara snorts, “Petey, you’re ridiculous.”

“Love you, Momma.”

“Love you too, baby. Get some sleep. We have lots to unpack tomorrow.”

He rolls over with his back to her and she curls up around him, just like they did in the back of the little Honda. It’s still too quiet, but the familiar warmth is enough to put him to sleep. Clara listened to the soft breaths of her son and wonders if maybe she could start to hope.

She looks around the little bedroom, the very first light of morning starting to peek through the blinds. They do have a lot to do today, but it’s all good things. House things, moving on things, hope things.

Clara snuggles down into the pillows and blankets. She still can’t sleep, but now it’s to the sound of her son sleeping and because of thoughts of new beginnings filling her mind.

“I’m going to need a coffee today,” she thinks to herself as she closes her eyes against the rising sun and hopes to steal just a few minutes of sleep before the business of the day begins.