Page 3 of Falling for Famine
Felix would bake my favorite treats and let me watch anything I wanted on their television, sometimes for hours so I could wait out whatever fury summoned my father’s particularly destructive mood. Mary gave me a gentle place to rest my head and would dress any of that day’s wounds.
Felix never pried too much into the injuries that scored my body—the cuts, the bruises, the burns—but they both had tried a number of times to get the authorities involved. Unfortunately, in those days and this part of the city, my suffering was largely ignored.
I found ways to cope, and he and Mary were one of them for a very long time. Not everyone had a Felix and Mary, so I made sure to take care of mine even after all these years.
Because they’d become my family.
My mother had never been in the picture, and my father had never told me why. After the beating I got the night I braved asking, I never asked again. But I could guess the abuse didn’t start with me, and I couldn’t blame her for running. Even now, I still didn’t know if she was alive or dead. I only knew he’d made sure I never knew who she was or where she’d gone.
When I was sixteen, my father died. It was the first time I’d ever felt free. The first time I’d breathed. But then I worried I’d be put in the foster care system and end up in a similar situation or worse. But Mr. Baker and his wife took me in.
They taught me what a real home was. The battered and bruised child I’d been during those years was suddenly given all the love and affection I never knew I needed, and the scars my father left both inside and out faded over time.
Now at thirty-two, I never strayed far from Felix. He’d grumbled about me moving out, but the joy that enveloped his face over my big step into adulthood gave him away. He might play the grumbly old man on the block, but Felix was my hero. He saved me in so many ways, and to me, he’d always been more of a father than the one who died.
I only moved a few blocks away and always chose to walk past his apartment building to check in on him. And somehow he always knew when I’d walk by, because he found someway to be outside.
A smile tugged at my lips as I patted Mr. Pugsworth, who’d since given up his battle with the elusive squirrel and sniffed around my feet before licking my leg in greeting.
“Did you hear back?” Felix asked after we took to walking toward Maude’s.
I sighed and shook my head. “I told you that it would take a while, Old Man.”
“Yeah, yeah,” was his noncommittal reply. “But you will hear back?”
I shrugged and checked my email for the millionth time.
I’d been on pins and needles over a story I’d submitted to an agent. So far, nothing. It was my dream to have my name on a book cover, but it wasn’t easy to chase my dreams when there were bills to pay and Felix to watch over. So, I worked at the bakery café Felix ran and kept waiting for my dream to come true.
Maude was already outside her place, and it was absolutely adorable how much she lit up at the sight of Felix. Her whole face glowed in greeting.
I leaned over and whispered, “Thy lady doth calls, Old Man. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”
He scowled at me. “You will not. Take tomorrow off. You’ve been working yourself to death, and I won’t have it.”
His bark had no bite, but I agreed because Felix was more stubborn than I was. He’d barely allowed me to work at his place as it was, insisting he pay my rent and whatever I needed until the day he died. He’d already done more for me than I could ever do for him, so supporting him as the town baker was about all I had.
I’d do it until the day he died, and then long after in his name.
My heart clenched at the thought, because Felix was already in his seventies. That day was fast-approaching, and I couldn’t imagine a life without him. But seeing him blush and try not to smile at Maude was my favorite thing. I was glad I hadn’t missed it today.
I dropped a kiss on his cheek and gave the huffing and puffing dog a scratch behind the ear. “Go get you some hot lady booty, Old Man. And Mr. Pugsworth, no cock-blocking.”
A noise got garbled in Felix’s throat as he struggled to respond. I laughed and ran off before he could curse me out. All in good fun, of course.
Felix had never, not once, made me feel scared the way my father had for sixteen years of my life. And now I’d been loved for as long as I had been brutalized. I doubt I would’ve trusted men at all if it hadn’t been for Felix. He deserved every bit of happiness he could get his hands on.
I dashed out of eyesight and giggled to myself as I took the longer route home to avoid Felix’s humiliated wrath. Pocketing my phone, I decided that the dangers of running into another pole while I read were too great, so I’d wait until I got home. I had a date with a halfway full casserole dish of lasagna.
Which was another thing Felix continued to gripe about—my lack of boyfriend or girlfriend.
The last guy I dated was nearly five years ago. Right after Mary died and my happy found family imploded. We’d broken up because he didn’t understand how important it was for me to be there for Felix, and that asshole made a gross comment about me being practically married to the guy who I regarded as my father.
Suffice it to say, he got slapped and kicked out the very second the accusation left his mouth. It was a rare day I got angry or resorted to violence, but that was one of few ways to do it.
I brushed away a renegade dusting of flour from my shoulder and took another corner, but the sight of white hair made me pause as I moseyed down the sidewalk. I leaned back and caught sight of a lone figure looming between the buildings, leaned against the wall.
Who’s that?
