6 | Nothing To Our Name

Jay's POV

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"What do you mean you're out of rooms?!" I snap furiously.

"I'm sorry sir, but we're all booked," says the front desk clerk of the motel.

"This shit hole fully booked? I highly doubt that!"

Mari tugs on my sleeve. "Brother, let's just leave. It's alright."

I glance down at her and my eyes immediately soften. She looks exhausted, she deserves a real bed every now and then. Sleeping on the streets in an unfamiliar part of the city can be trouble. But luck just never seems to be on our side.

I sigh. "Look, my little sister and I have had a long day. If we can't stay here, we'll have to sleep on the streets."

The clerk raises one of her eyebrows. "From what it looks like, you two live on the streets. I bet you don't even have the money. Leave before I call security."

"You can't kick us out! We're customers!"

Two brawny men drag me outside as Mari follows close behind. I kick and yell profanities, even if it's no use. I'm shoved out, and Mari scampers to my side as the doors slam.

"That was really, really stupid," Mari mumbles.

"Now what?" I pant, sweaty and drained from struggling.

"I think I have an idea!"

Mari claims to have seen an old lady who seems nice enough that lives in a house just a block away. I follow her, too exhausted to argue. At the moment, I can barely process her words.

Mari knocks on the wooden door of a small house. The lights give off a warm glow from the windows. I can smell something cooking inside there too, it makes my mouth water.

Sure enough, a small old woman answers the door. When her eyes land on Mari, they fill with sympathy, but narrow in skepticism at me.

I'm prepared for Mari to tell some tragic sob story completely made up, or something she's heard me tell in the past. Instead, she tells the truth. She tells the woman about our mother dying, our abusive father, and how I've raised her on the streets ever since.

What surprises me more is the woman hurries us into the house without another word.

"You two are covered in dirt. I'll run a bath for both of you. Believe it or not, I still have my daughter's clothes when she was younger. And you, young man, will have to make do with my husband's clothes," she says.

My attention only slightly draws from the food cooking at the stove. My stomach growls hungrily. "Thank you, m'am."

"Where's your husband and daughter now?" Mari asks.

"My daughter moved out years ago... my husband... he um, died a few months back."

Oops, awkward, I think, followed with a twinge of sympathy for this woman. Her loneliness is pretty evident, the fact that she's made dinner for three even now says it all.

"I'm actually relieved you two came tonight. I made too much food once again by accident, it just seems to be a course of habit I suppose," she says with a sweet smile.

I make Mari wash up first. I sit in front of the bathroom door and lean my back against it, to make sure this old lady doesn't try to do anything tricky as I let my guard down. I have a hard time keeping myself awake.

"Are you done yet?" I call eventually. "It's been like an hour and a half, Mari!"

"Sorry!" She squeaks. Five minutes later, she walks out of the steamy bathroom dripping wet and in fresh clothes. I haven't seen her this clean in a long time.

I roll my eyes. "There's this thing called a towel, you know."

I towel dry her hair, then comb through it with a brush provided on the bathroom counter. I start to weave a French braid into her long, dirty blonde hair, a skill that I've mastered and took on as my duty when our mother died.

I poke her head when her eyes begin to droop. "Can't sleep just yet. She's feeding us too, remember?"

"Right," Marigold nods, prying her eyelids open.

When it's my turn, I make Mari stay in the room with me, as long as she promised to turn away when I got out.

"Why would I want to look?" She complains. "Why can't I stay downstairs on the couch? The lady has a TV!"

I indulge in the hot water pouring down on my face and skin for a moment longer before replying. "We have to stick together, remember? That's the best way to survive."

I can almost feel the eye roll from her. "Yeah, well, I'm not a baby anymore. I can do things by myself."

I shake my head. "You're ten, for Christ's sake. You practically are a baby. Now hush, I didn't talk your ear off when you were showering."

That seems to shut her up. For now, at least.

There are fresh clothes waiting for me on the bathroom counter; a soft looking sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. It's been a while since I've worn clean clothes. Clean and comfortable clothes.

Mari and I eat everything the lady hands us without hesitation. I suppose I should be more cautious, but right now my stomach is the only thing controlling my logic. The soup is hearty and bursting with flavor, followed with two large pieces of corn bread. Mari and I stuff our mouths, forgetting all about pacing ourselves and the consequences we might have for it later. About an hour later, we're curled up on the couch together watching TV sleepily. I feel warm and my stomach is full, a combination better than anything else on this planet.

"Stay as long as you'd like," the old lady says with another warm smile.

"Thank you," I murmur sleepily.

Mari has passed out, despite her attempts of prying her eyes open to experience this television she hears so much about.

My dreams are filled with my past again, from pleasant memories to the not so pleasant ones that usually have something to do with my father.

"What will you name her?" My mother asks softly, gently placing my new baby sister in my arms.

My eyes go wide. "Y- you're letting me name her?"

She smiles back, her blue eyes filled with warmth when they flicker towards me. "Of course. You'll be the one protecting her all her life. Your father won't do much, and I don't think I'll be strong enough to care for her like she needs. So you ought to name her."

I stare at the infant for a while longer, taking every last detail of her in. There's a few small, golden curls that swirl perfectly on her head. They have hints of red tones in them too, reminding me of the beauty I observe in my grandmother's garden each day.

"Marigold," I blurt out. "Like the flower."

"That's a beautiful n--"

"...Mom?"

Suddenly, those sapphire eyes go bloodshot and the whites of them a startling pale yellow. We stare back at each other, reflecting the horror in each of our expressions. She opens her mouth to speak, but begins to cough violently as blood pours from it. Her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth begin to flood with crimson blood.

I scream myself awake.

"Jay, please wake up. It's just a dream!"

I gasp and struggle away from the arms that have shaken me awake. My eyes flicker frantically at my surroundings as I try to figure out where I am and what's going on. I finally glance at Mari, who has stumbled away to my side after I shoved her away.

I wipe the tears from my eyes quickly before giving a halfhearted smile to Mari. "Dreams, again. Sorry."

Her sweet brown eyes scan me up and down, wide with concern. "You haven't had one that bad in a really long time. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah... it's probably from the stress being away from home in a strange city."

Home? We don't have a home, my mind sharply corrects me.

"What was it about? Mommy?"

I nod and glance away. "Y- yeah..."

I wander around the house a bit seeing that the old lady is asleep and Mari is still intrigued by the television.

A shiver runs down my spine as I enter a room, filled with boxes of jewelry made of pure gold and all sorts of gems. My hands begin to itch so badly that I stuff as much as I can into my pockets.

Once I sell all of this, Mari and I will be out of here in no time. We could go anywhere we wanted to, eat as much as we wanted. Our lives would completely change. I could finally give Mari a life that any kid deserves. The idea of it all brings a wide grin to my face.

I run for the door, knowing that the loot of a lifetime clinks in my pocket. Too distracted with mu fantasy, I slam right into the old lady herself.

A few pieces of jewelry fall out of my pockets.

"Ha, nice necklaces. You should wear em more often," I chime with an innocent smile.

"I should wear them to your funeral!" The woman roars, hitting me hard on the head with a wooden spoon.

I yelp and stagger towards the door, swiftly snatching Mari off the the couch as I do so. Long story short, I wasn't able to retrieve any of those necklaces. That old lady is a lot fiercer than she looks. Mari and I are back to square one, on the streets in an unfamiliar town with nothing but our clothes to our name.