Faith: A Short Story by Ashley
Faith: A Short Story by Ashley
Gentle Kentish breeze charmed my nostrils with the smells of fish and chips and salmon steaks. The aromas enabled me to savour the quality time with my daughter on St Mildred’s Bay. A beach whose sight welcomed us with open arms, lighting up the face of the world’s greatest artist and painter, the one and only Faith. Claiming that she was the best was not an exaggeration at all. This claim was supported by the founder of Brilliant Bugs Academy for Special Children, Miss Joanna Bugs. In exactly twenty-four hours, my daughter would be taking her first ever one-to-one lesson with Joanna. A reward for the painting contest. Ah… Happy tears struggled out of the clutches of my eyes each time my mind replayed the moment Faith won the contest. I knew that my daughter’s artistic gift would outshine all the others’. So did Joanna, it seemed, as she confided that in all honesty, she did not expect much from all her other students.
I broke down when Joanna offered to give Faith free one-to-one lessons. When I struggled to stop thanking her, Joanna simply shook her head.
‘No no. Faith deserves it,’ she said, waving away my thanks. It was then that I realised how blessed my daughter was despite being a fatherless child with Down’s Syndrome.
I was sixteen when I had Faith. It was a one-night stand. We met at a party but I was too drunk to remember his face. My life was a complete mess then. Year after year, wherever I went, all my foster parents eventually gave up on me and stopped caring. It was even worse at school. Those kids used to make that praying gesture and chant, ‘Mary-Grace with a hyphen, God’s chosen one,’ and smirked when they walked pass me. The teachers did nothing about it. I was unhappy, often in despair, so I sneaked into pubs at sixteen and couldn’t stop drinking ever since.
For a long time, life was tough for Faith and I. When Faith was eight, I had to home-school her after a special needs teacher pushed her down the staircase. I was so helpless that I failed Faith by not reporting the incident to the authority. In hindsight now, I realise my helplessness and despair was the result of the trauma of my life. It had imprisoned my mind, my body and soul to the point of ending my life and killing my daughter. Looking back, spending those four sleepless nights and days together in the freezing cold without blanket or heat, food or water, it dawned on me that I was no different from all those people who had not been there for me when I needed them. This realisation enabled me to decide we had to move on. So I started web-hunting for a good art teacher who could bring out the best in a girl who began drawing at two. The tuition fee should not be a problem. I would utilise the Disability Living Allowance and the Carer’s Allowance. Little did I expect to find a perfect art instructor who later became my surrogate sister and best friend.
***
Faith stopped singing and opened her eyes wide. They finally arrived at Miss Bugs’s house. They were fifteen minutes early, but Miss Bugs was already waiting for them. She opened the door for Faith right after Mummy parked her car. For some strange reason, when she helped Faith out, her touch clung to Faith’s skin like some gluey gum.
‘Hello, angel. How are we today?’ she asked, squeezing Faith’s cheeks after Faith got out of the car. Mummy seemed too busy talking and smiling at her to notice Faith’s displeasure. Didn’t her mummy notice it when Miss Bugs squeezed Faith’s buttocks?
Miss Bugs winked at her so she knew she couldn’t tell Mummy. She was used to the game of keeping secrets with Miss Bugs. Sometimes she felt Miss Bugs’s secrets were ugly like the kind of Ribena that made Mummy throw up all over the floor. But then, Mummy always told Faith to appreciate those who loved her and never ever let them down.
‘Faith love, Mummy’s got to go. Be good for Miss Bugs and have fun!’ Mummy chirped and kissed Faith’s forehead. Faith hugged Mummy tight. And Then Mummy said goodbye to Miss Bugs and drove away.
‘OK… Now it’s just the two of us,’ Miss Bugs grinned and gave Faith a thumbs-up. She gripped Faith’s arm and it hurt a bit. But Faith mustn’t say ‘ow’ because Mummy said a good girl should always be polite to those who loved her. They had to go upstairs. Faith didn’t like stairs because a teacher – Mr Rich or Smith or something – made her fall. He said that was to teach her a lesson for walking too slow. That was four years ago when she was eight. Mummy cried so hard. She stopped sending Faith to school. Would Mummy stop bringing Faith to Miss Bugs’s house if Miss Bugs pushed Faith?
‘Here we are!’ Miss Bugs exclaimed when they were in front of a room. A room painted entirely in green that reminded Faith of the snake she and Mummy watched on telly. It bit many people. Loads of them died because of the poison from the bites.
‘Miss Bugs, are we going to paint here?’ Faith asked once they got inside the room, which was crammed with shelves of brushes, watercolours and papers of different sizes.
‘Yup, and we’re going to have some other kind of fun,’ Miss Bugs replied. She beamed at Faith, revealing her gap tooth for the first time.
‘But green room is not a nice room… It’s scary, like snakes… And there’s nowhere to sit and paint!’ Faith whined, the dust covering the shelves made her choke. Her eyes skimmed the room again and she found nothing apart from a piano stool and a coffee table. They were not suitable for painting. Didn’t Miss Bugs know?
‘Relax, Faith. We’re going to play a game before we paint. You’ll like it,’ Miss Bugs said. Something in her smile reminded Faith of a doctor who pricked her arm with a needle, smiled and told her it’s not going to hurt. But it did. A lot even! Faith hoped the game didn’t involve keeping more of Miss Bugs’s secrets.
‘What game?’ Faith asked, gazing down at her toes.
Miss Bugs, who stood near the door a second ago, came to Faith and put a hand on Faith’s shoulder. Faith could feel Miss Bugs’s breath on her neck as the art instructor whispered, ‘It’s a simple game.’
Without another word, Miss Bugs dragged Faith by the shoulder towards the piano stool and sat down.
Patting her lap, she said to Faith, who was disoriented after being dragged by the shoulder, ‘All you need to do is sit on my lap and call me Mummy Jojo. Never Miss Bugs again, understand?’
Faith opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Miss Bugs continued, ‘Oh and you’ll have to do that every time you’re here. You do want to make me happy because I’ve given you free art lessons, don’t you? None of your friends in Brilliant Bugs got it, so it’ll be a lovely way of saying thank you, don’t you think?’
The game of sitting on Miss Bugs’s lap and calling her Mummy Jojo didn’t sound fun to Faith. However, she had to do it if it made Miss Bugs happy. Mummy had reminded her on and on that no one else would be as kind. Other teachers, according to Mummy, would probably refuse point blank to teach Faith. Mummy said they might even tell Faith she’s not right in the head, which was of course a lie.
‘Good, my little cherry,’ Miss Bugs said when Faith was on her lap. Faith cringed.
‘Don’t call me that, please. I hate cherries.’
‘It is just a bloody game, remember, my little cherry?’ Miss Bugs said through gritted teeth and roughly ruffled Faith’s hair.
‘Stop it. You’re hurting me,’ Faith wailed as Miss Bugs continued mussing up her hair, causing tears of pain to bead Faith’s cheeks.
Miss Bugs obeyed, though her palm lingered on the top of Faith’s head.
‘What are you supposed to say when you’ve been naughty, hmm?’ she asked, leaning closer to Faith and grinning.
‘Sorry?’ Faith guessed, not knowing why she was accused of being naughty. Miss Bugs shook her head.
‘Sorry, Mummy Jojo,’ she said, mimicking Faith’s voice. ‘Go on,’ she demanded, sounding like herself again.
Faith felt like a robot as she croaked out the words expected from her.
‘Good, my little cherry. Very good indeed.’ Miss Bugs said, sounding so unusual, like those cruel witches in the Barbie videos. ‘Now let me show you how much I love you,’ she continued in the same tone and put her palm on Faith’s clothes breast. She pressed it hard and made a circling motion.
Faith was lost for word. No one had ever done that to her. Mummy told her it’s the kind of thing bad men would do to hurt her, so be careful. Miss Bugs wasn’t a man and she’s the opposite of bad. Did that mean it’s OK? Both Miss Bugs and Mummy always told Faith they loved her, but Mummy had never done something that scared and confused Faith. But maybe it’s fine. It’s just a game after all. She tried to be brave by not crying.
The pressing and rubbing finally stopped after a long time before Miss Bugs said, ‘You’re good to love. Now let me give you the kisses of a lifetime as a reward for sitting still,’ and licked her lip. Faith tried to look away as dribbles ran down the edge of Miss Bugs’s mouth, but Miss Bugs pulled her close and kissed her lips.
Faith tried to pull away so that she could tell Miss Bugs she’s tired of playing and wanted to paint, but Miss Bugs bit Faith’s lower lip. Faith couldn’t take it anymore. She screamed and pushed Miss Bugs down from the piano stool with all her might.
Miss Bugs fell and her chin banged onto the sharp edge of the coffee table. Faith ran downstairs, still crying. She would correct Mummy and tell Mummy Miss Bugs did not love her at all. If Mummy wouldn’t believe her, she would have to lie and say Miss Bugs pushed her down the stairs. That should stop Mummy from bringing her to the scary place again.
*This short story was produced about six months ago as part of a university Creative Writing assignment.*
Gentle Kentish breeze charmed my nostrils with the smells of fish and chips and salmon steaks. The aromas enabled me to savour the quality time with my daughter on St Mildred’s Bay. A beach whose sight welcomed us with open arms, lighting up the face of the world’s greatest artist and painter, the one and only Faith. Claiming that she was the best was not an exaggeration at all. This claim was supported by the founder of Brilliant Bugs Academy for Special Children, Miss Joanna Bugs. In exactly twenty-four hours, my daughter would be taking her first ever one-to-one lesson with Joanna. A reward for the painting contest. Ah… Happy tears struggled out of the clutches of my eyes each time my mind replayed the moment Faith won the contest. I knew that my daughter’s artistic gift would outshine all the others’. So did Joanna, it seemed, as she confided that in all honesty, she did not expect much from all her other students.
I broke down when Joanna offered to give Faith free one-to-one lessons. When I struggled to stop thanking her, Joanna simply shook her head.
‘No no. Faith deserves it,’ she said, waving away my thanks. It was then that I realised how blessed my daughter was despite being a fatherless child with Down’s Syndrome.
I was sixteen when I had Faith. It was a one-night stand. We met at a party but I was too drunk to remember his face. My life was a complete mess then. Year after year, wherever I went, all my foster parents eventually gave up on me and stopped caring. It was even worse at school. Those kids used to make that praying gesture and chant, ‘Mary-Grace with a hyphen, God’s chosen one,’ and smirked when they walked pass me. The teachers did nothing about it. I was unhappy, often in despair, so I sneaked into pubs at sixteen and couldn’t stop drinking ever since.
For a long time, life was tough for Faith and I. When Faith was eight, I had to home-school her after a special needs teacher pushed her down the staircase. I was so helpless that I failed Faith by not reporting the incident to the authority. In hindsight now, I realise my helplessness and despair was the result of the trauma of my life. It had imprisoned my mind, my body and soul to the point of ending my life and killing my daughter. Looking back, spending those four sleepless nights and days together in the freezing cold without blanket or heat, food or water, it dawned on me that I was no different from all those people who had not been there for me when I needed them. This realisation enabled me to decide we had to move on. So I started web-hunting for a good art teacher who could bring out the best in a girl who began drawing at two. The tuition fee should not be a problem. I would utilise the Disability Living Allowance and the Carer’s Allowance. Little did I expect to find a perfect art instructor who later became my surrogate sister and best friend.
***
Faith stopped singing and opened her eyes wide. They finally arrived at Miss Bugs’s house. They were fifteen minutes early, but Miss Bugs was already waiting for them. She opened the door for Faith right after Mummy parked her car. For some strange reason, when she helped Faith out, her touch clung to Faith’s skin like some gluey gum.
‘Hello, angel. How are we today?’ she asked, squeezing Faith’s cheeks after Faith got out of the car. Mummy seemed too busy talking and smiling at her to notice Faith’s displeasure. Didn’t her mummy notice it when Miss Bugs squeezed Faith’s buttocks?
Miss Bugs winked at her so she knew she couldn’t tell Mummy. She was used to the game of keeping secrets with Miss Bugs. Sometimes she felt Miss Bugs’s secrets were ugly like the kind of Ribena that made Mummy throw up all over the floor. But then, Mummy always told Faith to appreciate those who loved her and never ever let them down.
‘Faith love, Mummy’s got to go. Be good for Miss Bugs and have fun!’ Mummy chirped and kissed Faith’s forehead. Faith hugged Mummy tight. And Then Mummy said goodbye to Miss Bugs and drove away.
‘OK… Now it’s just the two of us,’ Miss Bugs grinned and gave Faith a thumbs-up. She gripped Faith’s arm and it hurt a bit. But Faith mustn’t say ‘ow’ because Mummy said a good girl should always be polite to those who loved her. They had to go upstairs. Faith didn’t like stairs because a teacher – Mr Rich or Smith or something – made her fall. He said that was to teach her a lesson for walking too slow. That was four years ago when she was eight. Mummy cried so hard. She stopped sending Faith to school. Would Mummy stop bringing Faith to Miss Bugs’s house if Miss Bugs pushed Faith?
‘Here we are!’ Miss Bugs exclaimed when they were in front of a room. A room painted entirely in green that reminded Faith of the snake she and Mummy watched on telly. It bit many people. Loads of them died because of the poison from the bites.
‘Miss Bugs, are we going to paint here?’ Faith asked once they got inside the room, which was crammed with shelves of brushes, watercolours and papers of different sizes.
‘Yup, and we’re going to have some other kind of fun,’ Miss Bugs replied. She beamed at Faith, revealing her gap tooth for the first time.
‘But green room is not a nice room… It’s scary, like snakes… And there’s nowhere to sit and paint!’ Faith whined, the dust covering the shelves made her choke. Her eyes skimmed the room again and she found nothing apart from a piano stool and a coffee table. They were not suitable for painting. Didn’t Miss Bugs know?
‘Relax, Faith. We’re going to play a game before we paint. You’ll like it,’ Miss Bugs said. Something in her smile reminded Faith of a doctor who pricked her arm with a needle, smiled and told her it’s not going to hurt. But it did. A lot even! Faith hoped the game didn’t involve keeping more of Miss Bugs’s secrets.
‘What game?’ Faith asked, gazing down at her toes.
Miss Bugs, who stood near the door a second ago, came to Faith and put a hand on Faith’s shoulder. Faith could feel Miss Bugs’s breath on her neck as the art instructor whispered, ‘It’s a simple game.’
Without another word, Miss Bugs dragged Faith by the shoulder towards the piano stool and sat down.
Patting her lap, she said to Faith, who was disoriented after being dragged by the shoulder, ‘All you need to do is sit on my lap and call me Mummy Jojo. Never Miss Bugs again, understand?’
Faith opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Miss Bugs continued, ‘Oh and you’ll have to do that every time you’re here. You do want to make me happy because I’ve given you free art lessons, don’t you? None of your friends in Brilliant Bugs got it, so it’ll be a lovely way of saying thank you, don’t you think?’
The game of sitting on Miss Bugs’s lap and calling her Mummy Jojo didn’t sound fun to Faith. However, she had to do it if it made Miss Bugs happy. Mummy had reminded her on and on that no one else would be as kind. Other teachers, according to Mummy, would probably refuse point blank to teach Faith. Mummy said they might even tell Faith she’s not right in the head, which was of course a lie.
‘Good, my little cherry,’ Miss Bugs said when Faith was on her lap. Faith cringed.
‘Don’t call me that, please. I hate cherries.’
‘It is just a bloody game, remember, my little cherry?’ Miss Bugs said through gritted teeth and roughly ruffled Faith’s hair.
‘Stop it. You’re hurting me,’ Faith wailed as Miss Bugs continued mussing up her hair, causing tears of pain to bead Faith’s cheeks.
Miss Bugs obeyed, though her palm lingered on the top of Faith’s head.
‘What are you supposed to say when you’ve been naughty, hmm?’ she asked, leaning closer to Faith and grinning.
‘Sorry?’ Faith guessed, not knowing why she was accused of being naughty. Miss Bugs shook her head.
‘Sorry, Mummy Jojo,’ she said, mimicking Faith’s voice. ‘Go on,’ she demanded, sounding like herself again.
Faith felt like a robot as she croaked out the words expected from her.
‘Good, my little cherry. Very good indeed.’ Miss Bugs said, sounding so unusual, like those cruel witches in the Barbie videos. ‘Now let me show you how much I love you,’ she continued in the same tone and put her palm on Faith’s clothes breast. She pressed it hard and made a circling motion.
Faith was lost for word. No one had ever done that to her. Mummy told her it’s the kind of thing bad men would do to hurt her, so be careful. Miss Bugs wasn’t a man and she’s the opposite of bad. Did that mean it’s OK? Both Miss Bugs and Mummy always told Faith they loved her, but Mummy had never done something that scared and confused Faith. But maybe it’s fine. It’s just a game after all. She tried to be brave by not crying.
The pressing and rubbing finally stopped after a long time before Miss Bugs said, ‘You’re good to love. Now let me give you the kisses of a lifetime as a reward for sitting still,’ and licked her lip. Faith tried to look away as dribbles ran down the edge of Miss Bugs’s mouth, but Miss Bugs pulled her close and kissed her lips.
Faith tried to pull away so that she could tell Miss Bugs she’s tired of playing and wanted to paint, but Miss Bugs bit Faith’s lower lip. Faith couldn’t take it anymore. She screamed and pushed Miss Bugs down from the piano stool with all her might.
Miss Bugs fell and her chin banged onto the sharp edge of the coffee table. Faith ran downstairs, still crying. She would correct Mummy and tell Mummy Miss Bugs did not love her at all. If Mummy wouldn’t believe her, she would have to lie and say Miss Bugs pushed her down the stairs. That should stop Mummy from bringing her to the scary place again.
*This short story was produced about six months ago as part of a university Creative Writing assignment.*
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