Mosaic

Prologue

JESS DROVE IN SILENCE.

Her boyfriend, Ralph, was in the passenger seat, struggling to breathe. It was another one of his dreaded panic attacks that came without warning. His heart rate increased until he thought he could hear his heart beating in his ears.

Dub, dub. Dub, dub. Dub, dub.

Faster and faster.

He leaned forward, rested his head on the dashboard and started breathing out of his mouth.

Inhale, exhale.

His mind was exhorting his body to follow his command. 

Breathe, Ralph, breathe.

Watching him from the corner of her eyes, Jess made a decision to detour to their favourite spot; it wasn’t time to take him home just yet. She would sit this one out with him, however long it took.

She stopped the car at Charge Point on Northerly Island, a man-made peninsula along Chicago’s lakefront. The usually bustling public area was deserted in the dead of night.

Ralph rushed to get out of the vehicle as though on fire. He fast walked towards the water and slumped near the water’s edge, heaving.

She watched eagle-eyed from the car, concern etched on her face.

Finally, Ralph stood, catatonic-like, to stare across the water, looking at the myriad LED, neon and fluorescent lights that flooded the business district of Chicago. He wondered how many wounded souls, just like him, were wide awake with deep sorrow in their hearts. He shifted his gaze to stare at the moon’s reflection. The water was calm. The lunar lantern looked as though it had decided to float on its back.

Jess stayed in the sedan, giving him space, watching and trusting him not to do anything stupid.

He would do what he needed to do, and then he would move on. They would move on together, even if it were a rocky road ahead.

Minutes later, he sat by the water’s edge, hunched over.

Jess walked over to join him.

He sensed someone coming. He turned around to see who it was. Their eyes locked briefly. Angst was clearly written on his face, echoing the pain and suffering he was feeling within. He looked back quickly; avoiding her solemn gaze.

She sat behind him, wrapped an arm around his waist, and rested her cheek on his back. Their bodies pressed together, the evening cold became bearable; and hearing the beats of his heart assured her he was going to be alright, somehow.

His baritone voice, cracking with emotion, finally hit the still air.

‘It’s not always like this. Most of the time, it doesn’t even matter. I try to live my life without thinking about it.’

He paused before continuing.

‘The thing about it is that I could never tell what would trigger it. It could be a bottle of Vaseline on the shelf. It could be the smell of damp. It could be a tune. And, I could never tell how it’d hit me.’

Jess nodded.

He felt the gentle bobbing up and down of her head on his back. She was one of only a handful of people who knew he had been repeatedly raped as a young adolescent by a trusted family friend and music mentor.

He continued.

‘The thing about abuse is you can’t bury it like the dead. It’s not a dead pet, or a dead loved one or friend. It stays in your heart, so for as long as it keeps beating, you have to keep living with it.’

She could only contemplate in her mind what it must have been like; although she had lived with a measure of pain in her life, too. Growing up part-Inuit in Canada, her birth country, she had harboured memories of bullying in her childhood. Yet, she couldn’t even begin to know what it was like to be in Ralph’s shoes. She could relate to him, though. She knew about triggers and how it would just come and hit you in the solar plexus when you least expected it. And, how you just had to be constantly alert and on guard.

They were quiet for some time, lost in their own thoughts. The passage of time indicated by the position of the full moon in the night sky. It had shifted north, or more precisely north-west, as they remained stationary, locked in a hug. 

EVENTUALLY, THEY BOTH felt the cold bite into their bones. The temperature had dropped significantly.

‘Let’s go.’

Ralph made a move to get up, then gave her a helpful tug to her feet. They headed back to the car, arm in arm.

Jess grabbed a blanket from the trunk; then they climbed into the back seat and snuggle-cuddled to keep warm.

Locked in an embrace, Jess turned to Ralph. She said, ‘A wise woman once told me that when you break a vase, you can’t pick up the pieces and glue them back together to recreate it. It just doesn’t work that way, but you can pick up the broken pieces and make a beautiful mosaic out of it. You can create something wonderful with the broken pieces, and it doesn’t matter how many fragments there are. Or how tiny they are.’

She paused momentarily, willing Ralph to absorb it, ‘That’s what we need to create.’

‘We need to bring our broken pieces together and try to create something beautiful from it. A mosaic of life that people can admire. Together, we can make something they can look at and find inspiration from. We can make something beautiful out of our brokenness.’

Ralph kissed her hands and flooded it with tears. It’s not over yet. They still have a mosaic to create together, one sparkling, broken, piece at a time.

1: It Started with Hello

SPIKE WAS CARRYING two loads of shopping in his arms. Winnie, his fiancé, had a bag of groceries in one hand while the other held the door open to their building. She turned sideways to let him through first. Instead, he met her upturned face with a spontaneous kiss. They didn’t ordinarily lock lips for the world to see; it was just one of those moments.

The door to apartment one which directly faced the main entrance, suddenly opened. A young lad of about five saw the earth-shaking event between the interracial couple. His right hand instantly flew to his face to cover his eyes.

‘Caramba, get a room,’ he said with a touch of reprimand.

They disengaged quickly in deference to the child, who they thought was hilarious as he was peeking between his little fingers.

Laughing, Spike said, ‘Hello.’

The precocious little boy said hello back as he inspected them up and down. They felt exposed; akin to being scrutinised under a microscope.

Spike thought that the situation called for an introduction.

‘I’m Spike. This is Winnie. What’s your name?’

The little boy who looked to be of mixed race, perhaps an Amerasian, with soft brown hair and eyes said, ‘I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.’

They heard a woman’s voice from inside the apartment, ‘Com quem você está falando?’ She came out, anxious to get her little boy back inside.

Winnie attempted to get to know their new neighbours.

‘Hi, I’m Winnie. This is Spike. We live upstairs, apartment seven.’

The petite Asian woman smiled tightly and kept mum. She nodded a little; it was barely perceptible, then held her son’s shoulder firmly before closing the door.

Spike and Winnie looked at each other, intrigued by the frosty reception.

‘They mustn’t speak English,’ said Winnie to Spike.

‘I doubt it, he told us to get a room, remember?’ Recalling this, they smiled at each other, ‘but they must have just moved in,’ observed Spike.

‘What made you say that?’

‘I’ve never seen kids in this building before.’

‘How would you know? We’re hardly ever home.’

‘True.’

THERE WERE FIVE APARTMENTS on the ground floor and five on the second. It was a small complex built in the sixties when apartments were created for people. The newer ones seem to be designed and constructed for one and a half beings, the half being a kitten or a puppy.

Spike set the shopping bags down on the kitchen bench then left Winnie to sort them out. He went out again to get the last load, thinking all the while, how two adults and two birds could possibly need all these groceries.

The young family from apartment one was also heading out, so he bumped into the little boy again. He was now rugged up for a coldish Chicago spring.

The boy greeted him, his new acquaintance, ‘Hi Spike.’

Spike squatted to see eye-to-eye with the child, careful to put a safe distance between them.

‘That’s not fair, you know my name, but I don’t know yours.’

‘I’m William, you can call me Liam, and this is my sister Crystal.’

Spike moved his head slightly to the left to see behind Liam, a very pretty girl of seven was standing just behind, dressed in a thick padded coat and a pair of denim jeans.

‘She bites, so be careful,’ warned the little boy in accented English which Spike couldn’t place.

‘I don’t bite! He’s lying,’ the girl retorted with a frown, clearly annoyed with her little brother.

Their mother was soon standing next to them and hurried them along.

‘Come on kids, vamos,’ adding in English, presumably for his benefit, ‘stop bothering the man.’

Her hands were full, so Spike offered to help.

‘Can I help you? I’m on my way out to the car park,’

She was hesitant at first. Her face and body language betrayed her ambivalence but accepted the offer anyway.

‘Sure. It’s hard with kids. All is a major production.’

‘What’s why I only have birds,’ he replied with a smile. Spike took a shoulder bag and a backpack off her. She carried a wicker basket of food and drinks.

‘Obrigado ... I mean thank you,’ she said as they loaded the stuff into the trunk.

‘You’re welcome. Sorry, I didn’t get your name.’

She looked momentarily undecided whether she should trust him with her name. Eventually, she said, ‘Kate.’

Liam heard this.

‘Isso não é—.’

Kate glared, which spoke volumes, then she shushed him. The kid stopped mid-sentence.

Spike pretended not to notice. Kate, if that was really her name, didn’t want anyone to know their personal business. He just hoped they were okay.

The kids climbed into the back seat. Crystal glanced back to look through the window. She offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Those innocent, light brown eyes were sad. She quickly faced forward. All he could see now was the top of her hair band.

Wondering what was taking so long, Liam also twisted around in his booster seat to spy upon the adults.

Spike, perhaps because of his profession, had sensed the family was in trouble, so without hesitation, he opened his wallet to get a business card. He offered it to Kate.

‘Any time you need a friend, don’t hesitate to call. My girlfriend Winnie and I are staying at number seven.’

She accepted it without reading what’s on it, then gave Spike a barely discernible nod before putting it in her pocket and turning away.

Spike didn’t like what he was sensing, but he was also not one to base his conclusions on gut feelings.

He didn’t know it yet, but this family had been on the run from a monster—one without horns, tail and pitchfork. As a matter of fact, he looked divine, the very antithesis of a monster. He was tall, well-dressed, outwardly mild-mannered, a community leader and very handsome by all definition; not at all the face of evil as one would expect.

This family needed all the help they could get.

Help would come, and it started with ‘Hello.’

2: Starting Over

ANOTHER WEEK HAD PASSED before Winnie and Spike saw the children again, their lives being so preoccupied with work.

They were taking their loved-up pet Parakeets, Mr and Mrs Smith, out to the park, when they came across the kids and their mom, Kate, coming back from the shop.

The family was covered in winter gear from head to toe. The temperature wasn’t that cold to warrant all that padding, so they were certain the trio didn’t dress up to combat the weather. There had to be an underlying reason. However, it wasn’t their place to speculate.

The kids were excited to make the birds’ acquaintance. Liam, the more talkative of the siblings, said, ‘We had dogs - a Pomeranian and a Poodle. We had to leave them back home. I really miss