01: Trusting Those We Fear

Preface

As a reader I loathe introductions...
Introductions inhibit pleasure,
they kill the joy of anticipation,
they frustrate curiosity.

Harper Lee

I’ve struggled with this book, without writing a word, for much of my life. Having lived and worked in Chicago and Manhattan, I witnessed thousands of homeless children forced to sell their bodies to survive, and the utter indifference of everyone to their plight. I’ve also had several discussions with the same ‘helpful’ pedophiles described in the story. The issues weighed on my mind and has been brewing for decades.

It’s a story which demanded a different approach: one told from a child’s perspective, yet not presented as a typical children’s tale. Thus, this is more of a children’s book for adults, focusing on adult themes with nothing explicit aside from a few stray profanities befitting the characters. It doesn’t focus on the depraved acts of abuse, but on how those affected cope. Using fantasy elements allows readers to consider the topic without relying on traditional perspectives.

Pulling my recollections into a novel was especially challenging, as the timeline presented challenges. No longer living in either city and without contact with the kids or those supporting or abusing them, I’m unfamiliar with how the practices evolved.

I also didn’t want to dump the characters into the Manhattan of the ‘80s and ‘90s, when so many were infected with and died from AIDS. It would put an entirely different perspective on ‘Pretty’ Paul’s role in the story. Thus, I crafted an alternate universe, where the video parlors persist into the modern age, and AIDS never became the polarizing and deadly influence it remains.

Few of the gay men I knew from those days survived, including my brother, who introduced me to the helpful pedophiles providing the only safe alternatives for these kids. While hardly innocent or selfless acts, they at least helped a small number when no one seemed inclined to do anything besides sweeping the problem under the rug, where it continued to fester. Being young myself when I first visited the gay Manhattan bathhouses, these men were more than willing to open up to me as they flirted—though their interests ran much younger.

As you read the novel, consider this one of the alternate worlds Peg journeys to, before conveying the story on this particular world. The issues continue unabated, and while the solutions presented aren’t permanent, at least a few individuals sought to express their pedophilia in ways that are voluntary and somewhat beneficial. I’ve never been comfortable with either side of the arguments, though.

This book offers no solutions, no rallying cry demanding justice. Instead it is merely an adventure including a few kids who manage to survive the terrifying, soul-sheering dilemma faced by so many. This is more of a ‘dipping your toes in the water’ exercise rather than a factual exposé. But, it’s still a darn good yarn!

The novel also proved challenging to publish, as most sites strictly forbid depictions of childhood sexuality, whether fictional or a victim’s true account. For those worried, there is no explicit sex in the story, nor descriptions of abuse suffered in the past. The worst you’ll find are admissions that select individuals had been abused at one time.

I: Stepping in it

It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door.
You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet,
there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.

R. S. S. Tolkein

There will be a few times in your life
when all your instincts will tell you to do something,
something that defies logic, upsets your plans,
and may seem crazy to others.
When that happens, you do it.
Listen to your instincts and ignore everything else.
Ignore logic, ignore the odds, ignore the complications,
and just go for it.

Judith McNaught

Interrupting her skipping, Peg stopped while wrinkling her brow. “This is a new one. I’m familiar with the others, but have never known one to just appear like this.” She circled the same eight inches of concrete, carefully studying the empty space. “They’re obnoxious enough, but holes that won’t hold still are hardly helpful.”

Sighing, she returned, resuming her skipping, the prior non-entity entirely forgotten.

“Hey, wait up,” someone called, running after her a few minutes later.

She turned and glanced back. A young boy she’d never seen ran up to her.

“Who are you?” she asked. “You’re not from around here.”

“No,” he said, stopping to catch his breath before responding. “I’m from Westville.” He pointed at a building three houses down. “My mom is visiting my Aunt, who lives in the house down the street. They’ve been talking, but it was boring, so they suggested I play outside. I’m Jason. Who’re you?”

“I’m Peg.” When he started to say something, she cut him off. “No. It’s not short for Peggy, and I’m not Pegs. The name is Peg.”

He nodded. “Okay. I got it. I’m not related to any Greek boys gluing wings to their arms and flying too near the sun, and I’m not Jase or Jazz.”

“Good,” she said. “Would you perhaps like to play?”

“Definitely. You look so happy, skipping down the street like you have no cares.” Jason was cute, with moderately curly hair and a dark t-shirt. He had the clearest skin, with almost no blemishes and long eyelashes that highlighted his deep brown eyes.

Peg was taller, with a wide somewhat-forced smile that revealed a lot of teeth, but emphasized her dimples and a small notch in her chin. She had blue eyes and curly hair that hung in ringlets which bounced as she skipped. However, whenever she relaxed, she displayed a playful grin, like she planned something unexpected. Jason was eager to find out what it might be.

She frowned. “I don’t skip because I’m happy. I skip so I’ll feel better. You can’t be sad while skipping. I tried. It doesn’t work.”

“Then lead on. I’ll happily skip along,” he said, grinning.

“No,” she said, dancing away. “You’ll skip, and then you’ll be happy.”

Jason watched her bouncing down the sidewalk and mumbled to himself. “And I’m happy watching you having so much fun.”

After they stopped, laughing, giggling, Peg stepped aside, walking in the grass for a few steps, only to jump back on the sidewalk beside him.

“Any reason for that?”

She shrugged, holding her hands up. “Nope. I just like doing things different. I’m ‘‘centric’,” she declared. “I do things just ‘cause. It’s no fun doing what’s expected, but it is watching people wonder what you are up to.”

“Yeah, you’re different all right. We need fewer boring normal people, and more fun ones like you.”

Jason was curious. While clearly older, she kept pretending to be younger than him. He didn’t have a problem with it, and she didn’t seem to be teasing him. He shook his head and ignored it.

They ran and played until both were winded. Stopping to catch their breath, he turned to her. “How can someone as cheerful as you ever be unhappy?”

She frowned, glancing into the distance, her eyes unfocused. “Things aren’t always as simple as they appear.” She paused. “My fa—”

“Ah,” Jason said, cutting her off. “Say no more. My parents give me a hard time too. No matter what, I can’t do it well enough.” He stretched his arms out. “Sometimes, you just want to have fun.”

Peg nodded sagely. “When you’re not, you have to make your own. And if you can’t, you play inside your head, where there’s room to dance and you can make all the noise you want. Even if you need to be quiet and ladylike.”

“Or your mother drags you to the middle of nowhere, to talk to someone you barely know.” His eyes seemed to shimmer. “But then, you meet someone magical, who makes your world come alive.”

“Please,” she said, dancing backwards. “It’s only ‘cause you’ve skipped.”

He took off after her, as Peg squealed, running away, giggling.

They hadn’t gotten far, when an older-model, plain-white van pulled up. The side was scratched and dirty, the windows smudged, and rust pitted the finish. A man rolled his window down.

“Are you Peggy Winchester?”

“I thought you were Peg?” Jason asked, as they both stopped.

“No one calls me that,” she hissed before answering the stranger. “What if I am?”

“Your father wanted us to pick you up. Your mother’s been injured. He took her to the hospital, and asked us to bring you so you could see her.”

“He’s not my father,” Peg insisted, not responding to the news about her parents.

“Look,” the man climbed out of his van, as the driver came around the front, “Your mom needs you. She’s in serious trouble and might not make it. We can’t afford to waste time.”

“I don’t know either of you,” she said, backing up. “Who are you?”

“Peg,” Jason whispered, staring at her, his eyes wide. “It’s your mother!”

“So they say. More likely, they’re friends of Frank’s.”

“Yeah, your dad.”

She spun on him. “He’s not my father!”

The two men approached cautiously. “Come on. We wouldn’t know who your parents were if we didn’t know them.”

“What’s the safe word?” she demanded, backing up faster. Jason glanced from Peg to the older men, uncertain why she was upset.

“Uh...” the driver said, pausing.

“Stranger Danger!” she screamed, turning and bolting. Jason watched her run, unsure what was happening.

“Damn it!” the passenger mumbled. “Get the boy. I’ll grab the smart ass!”

Peg ran as hard as she could, not glancing back. She heard Jason yell, and the sounds of him struggling, but didn’t dare stop. She raced past a neighboring apartment building. “Stranger Danger! Stranger Danger! Help!”

Hearing no response, she sprinted around the corner, ducking under a barricade.

“Help!” she yelled. “Help. They want to hurt me.”

She tried the recessed back entrance. Finding it locked, she banged the metal door with her fists. “Help. Someone is chasing me.”

Hearing someone grunt as they jumped the fence, landing hard on their knees, Peg turned. “I got this one,” the driver shouted in the distance. “You best hurry, we don’t have much time.”

“So much for an ‘easy job’!” his companion said, sneering as he stood, glaring at her.

Scanning her surroundings, she took off down the alley, her sneakers kicking up gravel from the crumbling pavement.

“Come back, you little bitch! You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Rounding a parked car, Peg saw her path blocked by a heavy metal fence. Desperately glancing around, she bit her lip, and approached another empty space to the side.

Looming before her stood a large black hole, hovering inches off the ground. The edges shimmered, as if radiating energy. No light showed through, and nothing reflected off its surface. It seemed like a well of nothingness, from which nothing escaped.

Peg had been plagued by these holes her entire life, as they surrounded her wherever she went. She continually encountered them. After all, it’s hard to ignore something you had to continually avoid. When she’d mentioned them to her mother, she told her to stop ‘talkin’ such nonsense’. When she persisted, she was taken to some doctor who talking about schizo something or other. She quickly learned to shut up and never brought them up again.

Reaching out, she held her hand near the flat featureless surface. She’s experimented with them when young. Whenever she’d put her hand in, it disappeared. It always reappeared when she pulled it back, but nothing extended beyond it. Her hand simply ended where it met the hole. Curious, she’d dropped items in a few of them. Barbies, bangles and balls banished, never to be seen again, making no sound when they disappeared. Knowing there was no return from inside, no way back, she’d avoided them ever since. At least, as much as she could, as they were everywhere.

“Ha! You’re trapped, little girl. You’ve got nowhere to go, no place to run, and nowhere to hide. Give up now, and you won’t get hurt.”

Biting her lip and clenching her fists, Peg walked forward, holding her breath. With no clue what she’d see on the other side, she had no idea whether she’d ever return. The man trotting after her stopped dead in his tracks when she vanished from sight. There one instant, nowhere the next.

“Damn. The guys are gonna kill me. They won’t believe this crap! Helpless victims don’t just vanish without someone betraying everyone.”

Arkansas Café

I’m killing time while I wait for life
to shower me with meaning and happiness.

Bill Watterson

Peg didn’t know what to expect, but feared being trapped in the same utter void she observed when staring at the holes. Instead, she found herself facing a wood-paneled wall. Turning, she discovered herself in a hallway. The hole she used was floating in front of the men’s and women’s bathroom. It overlapped each just enough to make entering either one tricky. It floated higher than when she entered it, though it was hard to tell as the edges kept flickering in an almost hypnotic complexity. She shivered, imagining exiting only to have part of her body transported somewhere else. The holes might not be as dangerous as she feared, but still merited caution.

Glancing around, she noticed a closed door at one end, and a large room at the other from which she heard clinking silver and muted conversations. Figuring she wouldn’t learn anything more standing there, she walked towards the open room.

She was surprised to discover the room easily stretched sixty to eighty feet, filled with people sitting in booths and a large bar with stools. There were various items against the back, pictures on the wall, and movements in the kitchen beyond. She was in a diner. Who knew hell had its own diners, ready to serve whatever poor soul arrived from the surface world? Curious, she glanced out the front windows, observing a dismal gray sky, in sharp contrast to the warm sunny day she had left back home. A couple American and red and white flags fluttered, and scattered brown leaves waved on the scattered trees.

Swallowing, she walked in at a measured pace—uncomfortable with most adults—and made her way through the establishment, struggling to sit on the high metal counter stools. It took a bit, but once settled she glanced around at the offerings. The waitress, whose nametag identified her as Midge, approached.

“Anything I can get ya, hun?” She was older, with long curly hair, graying around the edges. She had small age lines around her lips, and a concerned, compassionate gleam in her eyes.

Peg’s brow furrowed and she dug into her pocket. She retrieved—one at a time—two quarters, a dime, six pennies, and a tiny doll her real father had given her long ago.

“Uh, I’ll have a water ... please.”

The older woman smiled. “Sure thing, hun’. You waiting for someone?”

She shook her head, before reconsidering. “Maybe.”

Midge considered her for a moment and shrugged. She stepped aside to pour some water and set the glass before Peg, who glanced up.

“Do you have a phone I can use?”

She drew back, scowling down at her. “The house phone is strictly for business use.” When she pouted, jutting her lower lip out, Midge’s expression softened. “Where you calling? Is it local? To your parents, perhaps?”

Peg sulked—after perked up at her initial question. “It’s to ... Georgia.”

“Honey, that’s a long ways away. What’s a young thing like you doing calling there?”

“No. What ... where are we?”

She smiled. “You’re in Tom’s Diner, hon, as the sign over the door says.”

Peg turned, realizing she was referring to the entrance. “No, what ... state is this?”

Her scowl returned, her features darkening. “Sweetie, we’re two and a half hours from the border. Unless you drove here yourself, and couldn’t see over the dash to read the road signs, there’s no way you wouldn’t know where yo’ is.”

Instead of answering, Peg stuck her lower lip out, widening her eyes and playing with her dangling curls. It always worked on her father, and sometimes her mother.

Midge shrugged, admitting defeat. She leaned forward, crossing her forearms on the counter so she was level with the young girl and considered her. “You’re in Arkansas, dear. Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

She sat silently, glancing down, her brow furrowing again. Peeking back up, she tried again. “There’s a boy whose life is in danger. I need to contact the police so he doesn’t get hurt.”

“Right...” She tilted her head. “You’re sitting smack dap in the middle of Arkansas, and somehow know some boy in Georgia is in peril.” She paused, considering her. “Did you talk to him on your cellphone? If so, you should use it to contact someone.”

“I don’t ... own one. My parents won’t let me.”

“At least they did something right, though I question leaving a little girl on her own in a town she’s unfamiliar with.” She acknowledged a patron waving her down. “Pardon me, I have to wait on customers. Enjoy your drink and we’ll talk later.”

Peg felt bad for Jason. She realized he didn’t understand what was happening when she ran. She didn’t know why the men were chasing them, but recognized the look in their eyes. She had faced the same all-consuming hunger before. But what could she do, especially now, from so far away?

If she returned, they would grab her too. Since they knew and were clearly after her, she hoped they would let Jason go, yet doubted it. Their look was anything but forgiving. She also didn’t dare go back to warn anyone. She instead planned to return after their pursuers left and report him missing to ... someone.

Glancing at the clock behind the counter, she noted it was earlier than she thought. Not only was she unsure how long she’d been here, she considered whether the hole might alter time. Maybe it took a while sending her somewhere. But if so, it would be later, not sooner. The only other option was that, in addition to ferrying her far away, it also sent her to another time. Not like into the past, but at least a few hours or a couple of days one way or another.

Then she considered the most bothersome question, rendering the others largely irrelevant. Who were the men and why were they after her? She had no doubt they targeted her. Jason was just in the wrong place, an accidental meeting threatening his life.

She was sure they knew Frank, but her mother hadn’t provided their safe word. That was what alerted her they were up to no good. Yet she didn’t know whether her mother was really in the hospital and unable to tell them. Somehow, it didn’t seem as likely, which was a relief.

“Are you okay, dearie?” Midge asked.

Peg glanced up, shocked out of her reverie.

“You’ve been sitting here for some time, lost in your own thoughts.” She indicated her water glass. Do you want another?”

Peg picked it up, peering inside. She didn’t recall drinking it, wondering where the water went. Glancing up, she nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Are your parents supposed to pick you up here, or are you lost?”

She knew it was a trick. If she said the wrong thing, she’d call someone to take her away and contact her mother. Trying to explain how she ended up in Arkansas of all places, was impossible. Even if she did, her mother couldn’t afford to fly her home, and couldn’t get off work to come for her. That meant they might take her away from her mother.

“No, they’re busy next door. When I got bored and asked to go outside, they said to stay here so they could find me when they’re done.”

“Next door, huh?” Midge studied her a moment. “You’ve been here for a while. Do you want me to contact them?”

Peg shook her head, her locks jiggling around her face. “No, they’re talking business. They asked me not to get into trouble, so they won’t like it.”

Midge nodded, refilling her water. When she set it before Peg, she frowned a moment before coming to a decision.

“Are you hungry?”

Peg looked up, glass in hand. She hated asking for things. Her mother chided her that ‘we don’t beg for handouts’. Anything we get, we earn, she insisted. So instead, she meekly nodded, and drank her water so she wouldn’t have to see any pitiful, disapproving looks.

“I thought so. I’m not supposed to do this, but you’ve been patient, not causing any trouble. I think we can cheat a little, don’t you?”

Unsure how to respond, she stared at Midge, the glass frozen at her lips.

Midge grinned. “So, do you want it, or not?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’d appreciate it.”

“I figured. I wish my kids were half as polite as you, after not waiting nearly as long.”

Accepting something freely offered was different. Yet she knew, if she looked like she was pouting, it wasn’t ‘attractive’ in her mother’s words. When Midge returned, setting a slice of blueberry pie before her—the afternoon sun glistening off its thick glaze, she looked up.

“Thank you. I’m really hungry. It was very kind of you.”

She smiled, watching as Peg dug in. She ate judiciously, shoveling a small forkful in before pausing to savor the rich flavors. She rolled it around in her mouth before relenting and chewing slowly.

Midge wondered what to make of the young girl. She was obviously lost. She claimed her parents were nearby, and there was no reason to doubt her. Yet her behavior was decidedly odd. Their town was small, so it’s not like it was a haven for runaways. The child tugged at her heartstrings, making her want to clutch her to her breast. But she knew it wasn’t appropriate, and doubted Peg would be comfortable with it, anyway.

The girl’s behavior was odd. While older than she pretended to be, she was perceptive and thoughtful, yet reluctant to open up. She had definitely been hiding something for a long time, afraid to admit it to anyone. More than anything else, she needed someone she could confide in—once she learned to trust them. Midge had no idea if she would ever see her again, but hoped she might find someone trustworthy.

She considered again whether she should contact someone, but realized the girl would clam up and disappear, likely forever. She could sense the girl was troubled, but had a strong, resilient iron core under her fragile exterior.

After finishing her treat and quietly nursing her water a while longer, Peg decided it was safe to return. Midge noticed her nervous glance and stopped by.

“Thank you for the pie, the water, letting me sit here and everything. I appreciate it. My parents will be here soon, but I’m going to the little girl’s room first. If they ask, you can tell them where I am.”

Midge smiled with a sense of relief. The girl apparently wasn’t alone and destitute. “Sure thing, hun. I’ll keep a look out for them. I’d love to tell them what a little sweetheart you are.”

Peg slid off her stool more easily than she clambered on, and headed towards the rest room. When she didn’t return after a full five minutes, Midge started to worry, but assumed Peg was having digestive problems. Ten minutes later, she was definitely worried, especially as her parents hadn’t arrived.

She went to check on her, but she wasn’t there. The window was intact—unopened to allow someone to slip out. There was no other way out. It was then that Midge decided she should contact someone.