Page 16 of Marlin's Faith

I pulled the little iPod I’d picked up in town out of my pocket and plugged it in to my laptop. I didn’t know if I had everything I wanted to put on it. I mean, I knew I had a song or two… I clicked through my iTunes account and, “Ha!” I must have uttered it aloud because Karen roused herself from whatever she was reading and looked over.

“Ashes & Embers, didn’t take you for the type to like them. You struck me as more of a classic rock kind of guy.”

I glanced at her sideways, “I like all sorts of sh-,” I stopped myself, “Stuff.” I muttered belatedly and admittedly a little distractedly, “Besides, it isn’t for me.”

I actually had one of A&E’s first albums, not the one withHope Never Dieson it, though. Still, it was my intention to put their entire discography onto this thing for Faith, and I aimed to get the rest downloaded and onto it right now, that is, if I had enough cell signal to get my hotspot working. It was tough out here on the water. They hadn’t invented cell towers for the ocean yet, and I hoped to God they never fucking did. I sighed in frustration when I realized we were just this side of too far out and that I didn’t have enough juice to get it done.

“What provider do you have?” Karen asked. I told her and she swiped across her phone.

“Try mine, they have the best signal. Password for my hotspot is…” I gave it a shot, knowing it wasn’t likely, but no dice. I sighed.

“Thanks, anyhow.” I grated and snapped the laptop closed.

“Who’s it for?” she asked smiling.

“Who’s what for?”

“The iPod.”

“How do you know it’s not for me?” I asked.

She laughed lightly, “Just like I didn’t figure you for an Ashes & Embers fan, I really don’t figure a guy like you is much into the color pink. A&E, a pink iPod shuffle… well that screams one thing and one thing only, my friend. Who is she?”

“What do youdofor a living?” I asked, chuckling to myself. The girl was sharp.

“I’m in school, actually. Finishing up my master’s degree in psychology.”

“Ah,” I nodded in understanding and set to work folding up the cord to the little music player. “She seems like she would like the color pink,” I mumbled, suddenly embarrassed with the idea of giving her the gift. Shit, I was overstepping. I had to be overstepping. This was a dumbassed idea, for sure.

“You don’t know what colors she likes?” she asked, and shit, it looked like I’d piqued her curiosity.

“She’s my President’s, Ol’ Lady’s sister,” I said, then figured I might as well go for broke, “Hope isn’t especially fond of the color pink, and Faith, I don’t know. I figured if Hope wasn’t a fan then it would stand to reason Faith might be. Besides, it was between pink and silver and the silver looked… boring.” I shrugged.

“You really like this girl, Faith,” she stated flatly.

I looked over at her, “Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?”

She laughed lightly again, “No man puts that much thought into what color iPod a girl would like if he wasn’t totally either in love with her, or wasn’t falling hard. It’s okay. I think it’s great, personally. She’s very lucky.” She looked over at her man, the respectful one, Kevin.

“He would do that for me, agonize over the color when I would just be over the moon that he’d bought me such an expensive, andthoughtfulgift. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

I cleared my throat, still uncomfortable that I’d sorta been caught bein’ such a softy. Finally, I sighed and decided that now would probably be as good a chance as any. That she might know, bein’ as it was her line of schooling and all.

“Yeah, I don’t know how to do this,” I said snapping the laptop shut and leaning heavily back in my seat.

“Do what?”

“Faith, she uh, she’s been through a lot and recently too. Some real heavy shit. Some seriously awful shit I wouldn’t wish on no woman.” I looked over at Karen and she softened, switching off her e-reader and setting it aside on the small deck table, on top of my laptop where I’d set it; right next to the music player in its offending bright pink color.

“Talk to me,” she invited.

“She’s been messed up pretty hard,” I cleared my throat, “I shouldn’t really be talking about it but you might know somethin’ about how to…” I groped in the dark for the right words, “I don’t know, how I could handle myself better surrounding her situation.”

“I would have to know something about it before I could speak on it.”

“She’s a mess, addicted to heroin, and only a few days out of the worst of the detox. We got her going to some kind of head shrinker to help her, her first appointment is tomorrow,” I was dancing around the ugliest part about it and I knew it, but saying it out loud still made me fuckin’ sick and the anger surge hot and ridiculous.

Finally, I sighed out harshly and rushed out, “She was sold into white slavery. Trafficked for the better part of the last couple of years as a hooker in New Orleans. They were shooting that shit into her veins, keeping her hooked to keep her docile. I know what to expect when it comes to the whole addiction rigmarole, but I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue when it comes to the rest.”

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