She came back to me today.
There was nothing special about it, there never is when she comes and goes.
Have you ever had something, or someone, that you don’t realize you’ve been missing until it pops back up in front of you? Faith’s like that. When she’s with you, sliding her attention your way, it’s like you’d do anything to stay in her world. It’s different when she’s gone. I’m never sure that I’ll see her or hear from her again, so it’s easier to ignore the fact that she existed at all. Easier than wasting time missing her, anyway.
This morning was just like any other. I get up, go through my usual routine, go out for a run. It isn’t until I’m about a block away from the house that I realize the winds have shifted overnight. The heat wave that had been coming down from the mountains has given way to a cold front blowing in from the bay. My usual attire of a t-shirt and shorts isn’t going to cut it, but I’m already jogging. I figure it’s too late to break my stride and I’ll just have to bear with it. Goose bumps harass my flesh and my teeth chatter through the entire five-mile loop, but bear with it I do. By the time I’m done, my tiny two-bedroom house feels much too warm for my icy, sweaty skin.
I go through the motions of a cool-down routine of push ups, sit ups and jumping jacks. I shower, and eat breakfast while I watch the morning news. I get dressed and go to the grocery store, still finding it odd that after so many years of living with so many people I only have to feed myself.
When I get home, Faith is sitting on the front porch, smoking a cigarette.
“Got a spare bed for a wanted fugitive?”
She says that every time she shows up now. It used to be funny to all of us. She’s the only one who laughs at it anymore.
“No, but I’ve got one for you.” I play my part, just to see her smile. It doesn’t take as much as it used to, but she still can’t look at me as a shiver of real happiness runs through her.
Our friends – mostly Robin and Kennedy – were angry and confused when she came back after leaving the first time. I would have been too, once upon a time, but I’ve come to understand Faith over the years. She can’t always just “face up and deal” like Kennedy wants her to; she needs to remove herself from the situation to be able to heal herself, and by default, that means she has to remove herself from us.
I read something in a book one time a few years ago, around the time Faith first went back to Boston. It said: If you cage a wild thing, you can be sure it will die, but if you let it run free, nine times out of ten it will run back home.
I don’t get my hopes up that she’ll stay for longer than a few weeks, and if I feel disappointment creeping in when I peek into the spare room and find her gone again, I just think of that quote and go on with my day, knowing that while I don’t know when, I know that I will see her again.
Faith stands from her spot on my front steps, stretching and popping her back. I drink her in unabashedly.
She’s lost weight again, her pants riding loosely on her already-slender hips. Her face is devoid of the mask of makeup she usually hides behind. The freckles around her eyes and across her nose stand out against her pale skin.
The scars behind her eyes flicker in the sunlight as she appraises me, too. I wonder what she sees?
“Help me bring in the groceries? I’ll make you a sandwich.”
Habits are hard to break sometimes. Food was the easiest excuse I had to spend time with Faith after Boston, and it’s still the automatic choice I make to try and keep her where she is.
“Sounds good.” Her eyes finally meet mine, just briefly, as she skips down the steps.