HARDCORE: Storm MC(145)

That afternoon, I took her out for a new coat and winter clothes. The following day, I received a reprimand—not because Rae had complained about her baby not coming home right after school, but because Vickie had seen me load Gigi into my car. The whole thing made no sense to me whatsoever. Why shouldn’t I do everything I could to help her? Her own mother didn’t care. I could see if the other kids in the class were also underprivileged and I ignored their plight, but that wasn’t the case. They were all well-dressed, well-fed, well-loved. Gigi was the only one who needed the sort of help I wanted desperately to provide. I couldn’t do it if Vickie kept hamstringing me the way she did.



“Please don’t say anything to her about this.” I nodded in the direction of the front office.



“Cross my heart.” Linda made an X over her chest.



“Thank you.” I grinned, then got my things together.



“Did you try calling her home?” Linda asked as an afterthought as I locked up my room.



“Of course. Every day. I never get an answer.”



Linda frowned, deep in thought. “Did you ever think that maybe, well, they moved away? She might have packed up, taken the girl and left for one reason or another. She might be on the run from the law or something.”



“God, I hope not.” I didn’t even like considering it.



“Why not? It might work out for both of them. Might be just the thing Rae needs. She might have family somewhere, and they might be able to help her care for Gigi.”



“Maybe.” I chewed my bottom lip, thinking about it as we walked out to the parking lot together. I couldn’t deny I didn’t want that to be the case. I didn’t want Gigi to be gone. I would miss the poor thing. I’d been caring for her for months, ever since she first walked into my classroom and I’d noticed the sad, ancient look in her eyes.



“There’s nothing you can do about it if that’s the case,” Linda reminded me. I knew she was only trying to help me. She was trying to warn me away from getting too close, from having my heart broken. Any teacher who’s ever really given a damn about their kids knew how it felt to get too close to the one or two who needed special attention.



“I have to try to find out. I’m going to check at her house first. I’ve been calling, but I never dropped by.” Not because I didn’t care, of course, but because I hated the idea of going there. It was a terrible neighborhood, though it was only six blocks from the school, and the run-down condition of the house only reminded me how bad Gigi had it. I hated the reminder when there was nothing I could do for her.



Rae was trying to find work. I reminded myself of this as I got in the car. She was always looking for a job, it seemed. Four times during the school year, Gigi had come in with a big smile to tell me her mommy found a job. All four times she lost the job for missing a string of days. She ever seemed to keep a job for more than a few weeks. Then it would be the same thing all over again—welfare money spent on booze. She stayed away from drugs—she’d told me that much herself, during our first parent-teacher conference. She made no attempt to hide the fact that she was a recovering addict. She didn’t touch heroin anymore, or any other drug. She did, however, drink. One crutch for another.



But she was trying. I told myself that again and again. She was trying. It couldn’t be easy trying to fight an addiction with a little girl. She couldn’t exactly go away to rehab when there was a seven-year-old to worry about. Still, I’d think Gigi would be reason enough to do whatever it took. Again, I had never been in her shoes. I could only guess at how it felt.



I pulled up in front of the tiny house with a shudder. The vinyl siding was peeling. One of the shutters on the front windows was crooked. The screen in one window had been slit—somebody might have tried to break in, maybe to steal drugs from Rae. Who knew? The front law was pockmarked with brown patches. It was pretty pathetic.



There weren’t even any toys in the yard. Other kids had swing sets, a bike, that sort of thing. Gigi didn’t have anything like that. I’d thought of buying them for her, but knew word would eventually get back to Vickie. Somehow, it always did.



There was no car in the driveway, but that wasn’t a surprise. Rae didn’t own one. I walked up the cracked, broken driveway and went to the front door. There were no lights inside, no TV. I pressed my ear to the door. No sound coming from inside either. I held my breath, straining to hear even the littlest thing.



One of the windows had several broken slats in the blinds, so I cupped my hands around my eyes in order to get a better look inside. Darkness. My heart sank. Maybe Linda had the right idea when she guessed that Rae took Gigi away. The house looked deserted. Then again, from my memories of the place, it never looked exactly furnished.