A Cup of Cocoa

The knock on the door was soft but confident. Ivy jumped from staring out her small living room window. She wasn’t expecting anyone today. She hadn’t had anyone visit in years. She couldn’t remember when she’d last spoken to a person. The knock came again. “Hello?” It was a small and gentle voice. She shuffled to the door and got on her tiptoes to look out the peephole. No one was there. She lowered to her feet and was about to turn when the knock came again. “Hello?” Ivy slowly removed the chain and opened it enough to see out. “Hi,” the small voice said. Ivy looked down to see a girl, nine or ten years old, standing there.

“Hi,” she responded. The girl was smiling. She was wearing normal kid clothes, a “Girl Power” shirt, jeans, and running shoes. She didn’t have a backpack. Her brown hair was braided back, just like Ivy’s mom used to do for her when she was young.

“You selling cookies or something?” It was a silly question since there were no cookies in sight. The girl shook her head, no. “You lost?” The girl shook her head no, again.

“I’m here to see you,” she said. The girl pushed her way inside. Ivy turned, watching her walk in.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she called after her.

“Like I said,” she walked over to the couch and sat. “I’m here to see you.” Ivy didn’t know what to say.

“OK….” She closed the door behind her and walked into the living room. “What can I do for you?”

“We need to talk,” the girl simply said.

“What about?”

“Maggie.” Ivy had to catch her breath. Who was this girl? How did she know Maggie? When the room seemed to stop spinning, she looked at her again. She was just staring at her.

“You hungry? Do you want some breakfast?” An odd way to start, but she needed to stall, to gather her thoughts. And, it was still early. She hadn’t had breakfast, not that she often did. The little girl shook her head, no. “OK. Give me a sec.” She turned into her kitchen and stopped out of eye sight, taking a deep breath. “I just need some coffee!” she yelled.

“OK!” She scanned the room, uncertain of what to do or say. Why had this girl come to her? Who was she? Did Maggie have a daughter and not tell her? “You ok?” the girl called from the living room. Realizing she was being too quiet, Ivy jumped to the counter and started moving dishes around. She opened a cupboard and took out a mug.

“Everything’s fine. Be there in a minute.” She opened the fridge, knocking off a birthday card Maggie had given her last year. It read: You’re 30! Let’s get dirty! Ivy watched it fall to the floor and slide under the fridge. She took out the milk and poured some into her cup. She walked over to her coffee maker - no coffee. “Do you want some hot cocoa?”

“I love hot cocoa!” the girl answered. Ivy smiled. Hot cocoa had always been her favorite drink too. She quickly pulled another mug from the cupboard and moved to make two cups. When she finished, she took a deep breath and joined the girl in the living room.

“So…. you’re Maggie’s daughter?” The girl didn’t respond as Ivy placed one of the mugs of cocoa in front of her and then sat across from her. “What can I do for you?”

“I just want to talk.” Ivy held her mug in both hands. She loved the warmth it brought. She didn’t take a sip.

“What about?” The girl just stared at her, a little curl of a smile on her lips. “Your mom?”

“How long was she here for?” The little girl finally asked. Ivy had to think.

“Almost five years,” she told her. Wow, that long?

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did she live with you?” How was she supposed to answer that? There were a hundred reasons; she needed Ivy, Ivy had needed her, she had nowhere else to go, she’d felt alone in the world. So many reasons, but what to tell this little girl? “How did you two meet?” Ivy had to think about it, and then she smiled. She took a deep breath and placed her untouched cocoa on the coffee table. “It had all started with a cup of cocoa,” she began.

“That’s my favorite drink,” the girl interrupted.

“Me too,” she smiled. “I was walking home and I saw Maggie sitting on a park bench. She looked lost, lonely, so I stopped in a cafe and bought us some hot cocoa.”

“I bet she liked that.” Ivy nodded. “Did she smile at you?” Ivy nodded, though she couldn’t really remember.

“I sat with her and we drank our cocoa. I started doing that everyday until I invited her home with me. She had nowhere to go. It was cold. I didn’t want her to freeze.”

“That was nice of you.” Silence.

“Once she came home with me, she stayed.” She smiled. “We became best friends.”

“What was it like, living with her?” An ironic smile crept across Ivy’s face. How was she to respond? There were times it was the best. But there were times it was near impossible. Maggie had been an emotional roller coaster, difficult to trust, difficult to love, difficult to hate, but a good friend.

“She was a lot of fun, but she was difficult too.”

“What does that mean?” Ivy stopped herself. Could she really tell this young girl what her mom had been like? How many times had Maggie made her laugh? Was it more than how many times she’d had to take her to the emergency room? How many times had she made her feel loved? Was it more than how many times she’d had to drag her from a vodka soaked bar? Or drug infested hole?

“Maggie had a lot of passion,” she began. “When she had feelings, be them good or bad, they were strong. And sometimes she couldn’t control them.”

“What would she do?” Ivy hesitated. “When she was happy, would rainbows come out of her hands?” Ivy laughed.

“Not exactly.”

“When she was mad, did she breathe fire? When she was sad, did it rain?” What a creative imagination this girl had, so like Maggie.

“Sort of,” she laughed. “Everyone definitely knew what Maggie was feeling when she felt it.”

“Did she make you sad?”

“Sometimes.”

“I just want to understand.” The girl looked down at her feet dangling over the edge of the couch and pushed herself forward. She smiled as she fell to her knees before the coffee table and blew onto her hot cocoa. She gulped the remainder of it down and smiled.

“Maggie was special and needed special friends.”

“Like you?” Ivy sighed. Had she been what Maggie needed? She’d tried to be. She stood and looked at her cup of cocoa on the coffee table, still steaming, still untouched. She wanted to take a sip but distracted herself with noticing the girls empty cup. Ivy picked up both cups, and brought them into the kitchen.

“You sure you don’t want something to eat?”

“No, I’m good.” Ivy placed the girls dirty cup in the sink and then looked at her own. It was still full. It looked and smelled delicious, but the idea of drinking it made her stomach turn. Perhaps it was nerves. She shrugged it off.

“I’m going to make some bacon and eggs.”

“OK." Ivy moved hurriedly to cook breakfast. It didn’t take too long. She grabbed two small plates, placed two slices of bacon and eggs on each, and walked back into the living room. The girl was still seated on the couch, a piece of paper in hand.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” The girl nodded. She sat herself at the coffee table and put the plates down. “Maggie loved the smell of bacon in the morning.” The girl smiled, but still didn't speak. She just watched as Ivy took a piece of bacon in hand and brought it to her mouth.

“Where did Maggie live before?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did something happen to her?” Ivy stopped mid-chew.

“What do you mean?”

“Did something happen to her that made her feel strong feelings?”

“I think a lot of things happened to her.”

“Like what?” Ivy sighed.

“What’s your name?”

“Hope.”

“That’s beautiful,” and fitting, though she didn’t say it. She finished her last piece of bacon and then moved closer to eat the eggs. “Listen, Hope…” she began. “Your mom was very special.”

“I know.” Ivy smiled.

“People special like her don’t always feel they’re meant for this world.” She watched Hope carefully. “They believe in a magic that doesn’t really exist.” A crease developed in Hope’s brow as she listened. She was confused. Ivy sighed, putting her spoon down. She didn’t know how to word what she wanted to say. “They believe they’re meant to find other people, special like them, and that will help them.”

“Like you?” Ivy shook her head, no.

“No, Hope. Not like me. I’m not special.”

“I think you are.” Ivy smiled.

“Thank you, but your mom was different.”

“What do you mean?” Ivy sighed.

“She hoped to find people who would understand her. But she was unique.” She could hear herself and she knew she wasn’t making any sense. But how do you explain a person as tortured and lost as Maggie without making her sound crazy? Or bad? Especially to a child.

“What does unique mean?”

“It means, like no other.”

“Oh.” She still looked confused. “Is that why she took those magic pills? And drank the potions?” Ivy felt her heart stop. “Did she think they would help?” Ivy was at a loss for words.

“Yes,” she finally answered. She didn’t want to lie.

“And did they?” Ivy hesitated.

“No.”

“That’s why she’s gone?” Ivy could feel herself nodding. Hope’s head lowered and her body sagged. “I don’t understand.” Ivy moved to sit at Hope’s feet.

“There is no understanding. Why your mom was special, or why she did what she did. There’s just the way it is.”

“Nothing can be done…” It was more of a statement than a question, but Ivy nodded again. Hope took a deep breath. “Tell me stories.”

“What?”

“Tell me stories about her.” Ivy hesitated and stammered. Hope leaned forward and held out the piece of paper to her. It was a drawing. In crayon, there was a woman with rainbows coming out of her hands, fire out of her mouth, and rain coming down from the sky above her. It was a beautiful child’s drawing that felt familiar. Ivy got lost in it and smiled. When she felt ready, she began.

“One day, I came home and Maggie was in the kitchen,” she smiled. “The place was a mess,” she laughed, remembering. “There were dirty dishes and flour all over the place. It smelled like sugar. And it was so hot. The oven was open and it looked like a rainbow had exploded inside of it.” Hope laughed. “She’d been trying to bake a cake. But not just any cake. She wanted a rainbow cake that burst with stars once you cut into it.” Hope smiled and Ivy smiled back at her. “By the time I’d gotten home, she’d tried three different recipes. None of them worked, so she was sitting on the floor crying.”

“Did you get mad at her?” Ivy shook her head, no.

“I tried to make her laugh. I told her, she’d tried really hard and that counted for something, but she didn’t believe me.” She didn’t go on to tell her how Maggie had been drinking. How she took her failure so personally, she tried to drink the pain away. She tried to help her, but Maggie left. A bar nearby called Ivy a few hours later. Ivy didn’t even want to think about what happened after that. In the end, Ivy put Maggie to bed, crying.

“What else? Tell me another.” Ivy had to think. She moved to make herself more comfortable.

“Ummm… there was one time, we were celebrating.”

“What were you celebrating?” Hope asked with enthusiasm and Ivy laughed.

“I don’t remember.” They hadn’t been celebrating. Maggie had simply succeeded in convincing Ivy to go out with her. “We were out celebrating and went to karaoke. She got me to sing. We sang ‘I Will Survive’ and it was a lot of fun.” Ivy smiled. “And there was this bully.” A man, she remembered. “He wasn’t very nice.” She could feel his hands grabbing her ass as though it were happening in that moment. She remembered Maggie laughing it off as though Ivy should take it as a compliment. “He actually scared me.” Despite Ivy telling him to leave her alone, he continued harassing her and even set his eye on Maggie too. “But your mom had a way with bullies like him.”

“What did she do?”

“She saved me,” Ivy told her. It was the truth. She and Maggie had argued. Instead of enraging Maggie as it had Ivy, she’d been drawn to it. She could remember watching them make out at their table. “She made sure he didn’t touch or hurt me at all.” She could remember watching the man lead her into the back alley. And then see her coming back into the bar, disheveled with redness around her neck. Laughing, she’d handed Ivy a necklace stating the man had broken it off while they ‘played’. She felt tears coming on and quickly swallowed them.

“Another, please?” Ivy took a deep breath. She struggled to find a happy story, and one finally came to mind.

“It was my birthday.”

“I love birthdays,” Hope interrupted. Ivy smiled.

“Maggie took me out for dinner to this really nice restaurant. She spoke with an british accent all night, pretending to be someone else. She’d convinced the waiter she was my friend visiting from England,” she laughed. “It was so funny.” She paused. Her heart hurt. She missed Maggie. She felt the tears welling up again, but pushed them down. “Everywhere we went that night, she announced to everyone that it was my birthday. It made me feel special.” A tear suddenly escaped and rolled down her cheek.

“You are special,” Hope suddenly said. She put her hand on Ivy’s. It was oddly comforting, even though the hand was small and cold. Ivy smiled at her, another tear rolling down her cheek.

“I’m going to miss your mom,” she confessed. Hope didn’t answer though, she just continued to hold Ivy’s hand and smile at her. They sat like that for a couple of moments. Ivy was still holding back a tremendous amount of tears. She didn’t think it right to break down in front of the child. Suddenly, Hope let go of her hand and stood. She walked over to the living room window and sighed.

“You’re not telling me everything,” she said. Ivy wiped the tears from her face and rubbed her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not stupid,” she turned back to face her. She looked different; older, wiser, so much like Maggie. “I know Maggie did bad things. I know she was fucked up. I want the truth.”

“Hope…”

“From you.” Ivy moved to stand, but Hope interrupted her. “Stop protecting her!” she yelled. Ivy was taken aback. “Just stop it!”

“Hope!” she was on her knees and wanted to move closer to the girl, to comfort her.

“Don’t!” she yelled and stepped back so she was right up against the wall. Tears began to flow down her cheeks as though they’d been waiting to escape all morning. Ivy froze, her eyes wide, desperate to help but startled and confused also. “You were supposed to help her!” Ivy’s chest tightened. Her breathing became labored. Her eyes were stinging again, and the room was beginning to slowly spin. “You were supposed to heal her, make her better. You were supposed to take the pain away.”

“I tried, Hope!” The tears were flowing freely now. She couldn’t stop them. “Your mom…”

“You should’ve tried harder!” Ivy was trying to ignore the anger that was forming in her chest. This poor girl clearly didn’t know what she was saying. “You gave up! You let her keep hurting. You liked it!”

“Hope! You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“It was fun for you, wasn’t it?”

“What?” Hope moved toward her, angry.

“You liked it! With her being so fucked up, it made you finally feel special.”

“Hope, you don’t know...”

“Why else did you take her in?” She took a few menacing steps toward her. “Who would want someone like Maggie in their house!?”

“Of course I did. More than you know.”

“You loved her chaos. Her torment.” Ivy shook her head, no. “Her anger.” With each word, she stepped closer.

“No.” She moved closer.

“Her drama.”

“NO.” And closer.

“Her destruction!” She stopped to stand directly in front of her.

“NO!”

“YES!” Ivy was bawling now. She fell back to the floor, taking her legs in her arms, hugging them to her body. She felt like a lost child, which was strange since she was the adult in the room. Her chest burned like the fires of hell. She couldn’t believe the audacity of this child. Where was this coming from? Why was she doing this? “But why?” Hope’s calm and quiet voice interrupted her thoughts. Ivy looked up at her. “Why?” she repeated.

“Why what?” Ivy asked her.

“Why did you love her chaos. Her torment. Her anger, drama and destruction.”

“I didn’t! I wanted to help her.” Hope just continued to stare her. “I wanted to show her that the world wasn’t a hateful place, but a place full of endless possibilities including love. That even though bad things happen, it doesn’t mean we’re not worthy of good things.” Silence. She couldn’t handle the child’s stare anymore and so stood. She turned away and looked at her apartment, empty. It was so empty without Maggie. “I wanted to love her because no one else would.”

“Why?’ Hope half whispered.

“Because everyone deserves love.”

“No! Why did no one love her?” Ivy’s chest tightened.

“I don’t know.”

“Liar! You’re lying!” The room started spinning and Ivy felt she was going to die. Her breathing was becoming more and more difficult. The room was blurry from her tears. “Tell me, Ivy! What happened to her?”

“She was a drug addict, Hope!” She yelled and turned to the girl who froze. “She was an alcoholic, a drug addict, a thief, and a liar.” Her breath was beginning to normalize though her heart was beating very hard and fast. “Did something bad happen to her? Probably.”

“What was it!?” Hope yelled over her.

“I don’t know!” she yelled and moved to stand immediately over the girl, to tower over her and feel powerful and hopefully, unafraid. Like a teacher chastising a student, or a parent a child, she wanted to feel in control. To her surprise, the girl didn’t look scared. She just looked…. normal.

“I thought Maggie was the liar!” she said and Ivy huffed in exasperation and walked past her toward the back of the apartment.

“What do you know of anything! You’re just a kid.” She kept her back to her.

“I need you to say it!”

“What?” she yelled. “What do you need me to say!” She’d yelled so forcefully her throat now burned. She needed a glass of water.

“Say it,” Hope begged. Ivy felt tears roll down her face again.

“Your mother was an alcoholic, a drug addict, a thief, a liar, and a dirty whore.” She couldn’t believe she’d just said that. “Maybe she deserved everything she got.” She didn’t mean it, but the words came out anyway. Even if Maggie had been those things, not an ounce of Ivy believed she’d deserved what had happened to her. The room was so silent and still, Ivy almost believed she’d turn around to find Hope gone.

“Then why did you take her in? Why did you love her?”

“I already told you.”

“No, you’ve done nothing but lie to me since I got here.” Ivy broke down and fell to her knees. “Why did you love her?”

“She needed it.”

"Did she? I thought she was an alcoholic.”

“To drink away the pain.”

“A drug addict.”

“To escape a world where no one loved her.”

“A thief!”

“To survive.”

“A liar!”

“To create the world she wanted.”

“And a whore.”

“Looking for love and worth…. in all of the wrong places.” She cried quietly. “I didn’t mean it,” she whimpered. She was so ashamed of what she’d said. Especially to a little girl, her daughter! What kind of friend was she? How could she look at herself? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry.” She turned to Hope. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her so she buried herself in her torso, sobbing. “I’m sorry.” She stayed that way, for what felt like hours, until Hope finally pushed her away. Ivy looked up at her, as much as she didn’t want to.

“Say it,” she pleaded. She knelt down to her level, never taking her eyes off of hers for a second. “Please. Say it.” Her eyes were filled with desperation, a desperation Ivy couldn’t begin to comprehend. She took a deep breath in and felt her lips quiver as she breathed it back out again.

“Your mom was hurt in the worst way a person can possibly be hurt. And yet, no one seemed to care.” Hope continued staring at her. “She put her trust in someone. In the wrong person.” She moved over to the couch and sat in front of it, leaning against it for support. Hope remained still. “That’s what made her lose all faith.”

“What happened?” Hope asked and Ivy shrugged and sighed.

“It really fucked her up.” Hope didn’t react.

“Say it,” Hope repeated. “Please, just say it.” She sounded desperate and Ivy gave in. She couldn’t fight it anymore.

“Maggie was raped,” she started to yell and quieted as the final word escaped her lips. Suddenly, the tears began flowing again, and Ivy didn’t think she’d be able to stop them. “She was raped,” she whispered and rested her head on the couch, closed her eyes and sobbed.

She woke on her couch as the evening was beginning to settle in, drenched in sweat. The nightmare had come again, very vivid and realistic. She sat up quickly, trying to slow her breathing and her heart rate. When they slowed, she had a sudden feeling as though something were missing. Hope, she realized. Hope was nowhere to be seen. “Hope?” She searched the apartment, nothing. She walked to the front door and peeked out into the hall through the peephole, nothing. Just in case, she unlocked the door and opened it with the chain still attached. It was empty. Clearly she was gone. She quickly closed the door and locked it again. She must have left when I fell asleep, she realized. Her stomach suddenly growled, she could feel it through her chest. Some cold ramen noodles sat on the top shelf of her fridge. She felt like she hadn’t eaten in days. She poured herself a glass of water and gulped it. When she put the jug of water back in the fridge, she noticed it. A note stuck to the refrigerator door. It was written in crayon. She took it in her hands. “Thank you for telling the truth. Forever your Hope.” was all it said. She half smiled and folded it in three. What a strange child, she thought as she walked to her room, to her dresser and opened the bottom drawer. Her eyes quickly scanned its contents, all of the items she was keeping to remind her of Maggie. She wasn’t in the mood to go through them, so she added the letter and closed it. She went back to the kitchen, grabbed her noodles and sat on the couch. She turned on the TV. She wasn’t absorbing what she was watching, but it was nice to hear noise. Maggie had always been so noisy.

Days passed, silent, long and short all at the same time. Ivy still couldn’t bring herself to leave the apartment, and yet she was growing to really hate it. She had nothing to do. She puttered around, as though waiting for something to happen. Finally, there was a knock at her door. Again, she wasn’t expecting anyone. It was morning. Ivy dressed quickly. The knock came again. “Coming,” she yelled. She opened the door quickly. A woman stood there. Her hair was short. She was wearing a sundress and a short sleeve sweater over top. She was pretty. She smiled when their eyes met.

“Ivy?” she asked, and Ivy nodded. They stood still for a moment. Ivy felt as though she recognized the woman, but couldn’t put her finger on it. “May I come in?” Ivy hesitated. “Or we could go for a walk?” Ivy shook her head, no. She opened the door a little wider to let the woman pass. “Thank you.” She stepped in and looked around. “Nice place.” Ivy smiled at her. It wasn’t. She closed the door as the woman walked into the living room.

“Would you like some water?” The woman shook her head, no.

“I like your art,” she smiled and motioned to the pieces hanging on the wall. She looked at one in particular. Maggie had made it, shortly before she died. It was a mix of dark and light colors, all layered on top of one another, with red blotches and dots throughout. “This is interesting,” the woman commented. Ivy simply nodded. “Very profound.” Ivy shrugged. “So, how are you?” she asked, finally sitting down on the rocking chair beside the couch.

“Fine.” Ivy didn’t know how to respond.

“You can be honest,” the woman said. “I know you’ve been through a lot.” Ivy nodded. How did she know? She wanted to ask, but couldn’t form the words.

“It’s been tough, but I manage.”

“You always manage,” the woman responded. “How’s your anger today?”

“My anger?” The woman nodded.

“It’s only natural to be angry when we feel we’ve lost something. Letting go is hard.” Was this woman a therapist? “You’ve every right to be angry.” Ivy nodded, not in agreement but to acknowledge what she was saying. “Anger can feel as though a protective layer, a shelter from pain.”

“Can we talk about something else?” She sounded harsher than she meant to.

“OK. What do you want to talk about?” Ivy shrugged. “How are you sleeping?” Ivy ignored the question. She didn’t want to answer. Her sleep was awful. She was having recurring nightmares of Maggie dying. In each nightmare, no matter the situation, Ivy does nothing to help her. She just stands over her and watches her die. In fact, in most dreams, Ivy is the one killing her. “Ivy?”

“Fine,” she lied.

“Are you lonely?” Ivy rolled her eyes.

“Whatever happened to small talk?” Ivy made a bad joke.

“Are you?” Ivy looked at her. She couldn’t discern what her motives or goals were from looking at her.

“I actually had a visitor the other day.”

“Really?” Ivy nodded. “Who?”

“A little girl.” Ivy didn’t want to divulge too much. It wasn’t her place. If she hadn’t known Maggie had a daughter, maybe it was a secret. “She came to talk about Maggie.”

“How’d that go?” Ivy finally sat on the couch and sighed.

“It was strange, but nice,” she admitted. It had been nice, at first.

“What did you talk about?” Ivy hesitated.

“I told her fun stories about her. The time she tried to bake a special cake,” Ivy gave a small laugh. “When she saved me from that awful guy at the karaoke bar.”

“What awful guy?”

“How she’d pretend to be someone else and just go wild.”

“Maggie’s always wild.”

“Yes,” Ivy nodded. “She was.”

“Are those true stories?” Ivy shrugged.

“Yes, but not the whole truth.”

“What did you leave out?” Ivy looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

“The bad stuff.”

“What bad stuff?” Ivy sighed.

“That she got so upset about the cake she drank until she was unrecognizable. And when I tried to calm her down...”

“What happened?”

“She fought me off and went to a bar.”

“And then what happened?” Ivy didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She reverted into herself and tried to push the memories away. “Ivy? What happened after she went to the bar?” Why did she want to know?

“I got a call from the bar a couple of hours later. She’d disappeared into the washroom. When they went to check on her, she was passed out on the floor.”

“Why was she on the floor?”

“I told you, she had passed out.”

“OK. Why had she gone to the bathroom?” She didn’t want to say. “Ivy, it was the men’s washroom, wasn’t it?” Ivy remained silent. “Why were you in the men’s washroom?” Ivy looked at her, confused.

“I went in there to save Maggie. She’d gone in there with some guy, and never came out.” The woman cleared her throat.

“Why had she gone into the men’s room with that man?” Ivy looked away again. She didn’t want to speak badly of her friend. “Ivy,” her voice was raised. “Tell me why!”

“Because she let him fuck her!” Ivy yelled back. The words just came out. “She felt like shit and thought the attention of a man would make her feel better, so she fucked some stranger in a bar!”

“You sound angry,” the woman’s voice was calm again.

“Yes, I’m angry!” Ivy yelled. “Maggie would do that kind of shit all the time. Fuck some strangers, thinking it would make her feel better. But it never did! It only made her feel worse. Like trash. Those men would fuck her and then toss her aside... like trash.” Ivy pulled her legs to hug her right knee to her body. “Every time I would tell her not to. I would warn her of how much shittier it would make her feel. But she never listened.”

“Why? Why do you think she didn’t listen.”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.” And she did, but she didn’t want to say it out loud. It sounded so corny when said aloud. “You’re a good person. You wanted to help. Why didn’t she listen?” Ivy sighed.

“She didn’t love herself,” she said and the woman nodded. They sat in silence for a moment. The woman sipped her water and then placed it on the coffee table.

“How do you feel?” Ivy looked at her.

“Right now? About Maggie?”

“Just, right now. In this moment.”

“Tired. I’m always tired.”

“With Maggie gone, maybe you won’t be as tired.” Ivy looked at the woman. How could she say that? It seemed wrong to think of her life as better without her. “Maggie took a lot from you, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“Your energy. Your time. Your…”

“Maggie brought a lot of good,” Ivy interrupted her. She didn’t like where the woman was taking the conversation. “She was my best friend. She loved me.”

“You just said Maggie was incapable of love.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re twisting my words.”

“You said she couldn’t love.”

“No, I said she didn’t love herself.”

“How is that different?”

“Maggie may have treated herself like shit, but never me. She was always good to me.”

“How?” Ivy struggled to respond. “And don’t say that she loved and protected you. Give me real examples of her being good to you.” Ivy had to think. How could she word the way Maggie made her feel? How could she put it into context for this woman to understand?

“Maggie showed me a side of the world, and of myself, I didn’t even know existed.”

“How?”

“She was fun. She made everything fun.”

“By being drunk? High?”

“She was adventurous.”

“By taking risks with her life? Yours?” Ivy slammed her fists into the couch.

“My life was never in any danger.”

“Really?” The woman asked and it made Ivy stop. “Never?” Ivy shuffled her legs so her feet were back on the floor.

“Never!”

“What happened in early winter?” Ivy shook her head in disbelief. How did she know?

“That wasn’t her fault!”

“Tell me what happened.” The silence that followed was louder than any music at a bar. It was unbearable and forced Ivy to speak.

“Maggie brought some guy home. They were both trashed. I stayed in my room so I didn’t have to witness or be a part of it.”

“Ok. You had the sense to protect yourself. Good. But then what happened?”

“Nothing. I went to bed.”

“Ivy! That’s not the whole story.” Ivy stood and faced the woman.

“Why are you making me say these things?” she was begging, but the woman didn’t move or falter.

“Tell me what happened,” she said quietly. Ivy really didn’t want to say it, but felt she had to.

“I woke to the stranger in my bed. Naked.”

“What was he doing?” Ivy struggled with the fear welling up inside her. She could feel his cold hand on her breast, his nails digging into her soft skin. “It’s ok, Ivy.” Ivy shook her head, no. The woman stood and came to her side, but she didn’t touch her. “You’re safe. Tell me what he was doing.”

“He was playing with himself.” Tears began to gather in her eyes. “He wanted to….” she couldn’t get the words out. Her breathing was shallow and quick. The room was starting to spin. She fell to her knees, and the woman simply watched. “Have sex with me.” The woman gently fell to her knees to look into Ivy’s eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if he was high, or drunk, or if he was confused. He was going to rape you, Ivy.” Ivy looked away. She didn’t want to look at anything. “Maggie brought danger into your home. Into your life.”

“But she protected me,” Ivy insisted, thinking of the many times she diverted men's attention from Ivy to herself. The woman moved hair from Ivy’s face.

“I know you think so.” She grabbed Ivy by the elbows and lifted her to sit up. “What happened when you woke up?” Ivy took a deep breath in.

“I screamed.”

“And did Maggie come?” Ivy felt a tear roll down her cheek, shaking her head, no.

“And he looked at me like I was crazy,” Ivy continued. “He looked at me like I owed him and was bad for not giving him what he wanted.” She took a deep breath in, shaking. She could see his face, his eyes. There was shock and anger, but no fear. She tightened her fists, the memory enraging her. “He kept telling me to chill out. That I should just enjoy the experience.” She was practically spitting now, the words spewing out like venom she needed to be rid of from inside her. “I kept screaming, but nobody came,” she cried. She leaned forward, hoping the woman would hold her, but she didn’t. “I finally ran to the kitchen, grabbed a knife and told him to leave.” She took another couple of deep breaths. “He finally grabbed his shit, and left.”

“You protected yourself. Good for you,” she was smiling an encouraging smile. Ivy got up slowly and the woman followed suit. As she sat back in the rocking chair, Ivy went and got herself some water. “That was a big step in taking care of yourself, Ivy,” she said as Ivy came around the corner.

“When Maggie came back, we got into a huge fight,” she started. She wanted to continue the story. “She couldn’t understand why I was so angry. Can you believe it?” She placed her glass on the coffee table and sat. “She told me I was overreacting, but I refused to back down. For the first time ever with her, I wouldn’t give in. I…”

“Protected yourself,” the woman nodded. Ivy nodded back, though the idea was still foreign to her. She’d allowed Maggie to rule her life for so long. Whether in agreement or by submission, Maggie had been setting the tone of her life for as long as she’d known her. “What happened then?” Ivy took a deep breath.

“The next day, she moved out. I never saw her again.” She finally let the tears flow with ease. She wasn’t sobbing, but felt desperately sad. After everything, she still missed Maggie. She still felt as though she needed her. She wished so many things for them, for her. And now, none of them were ever going to come true. She sobbed and grabbed a Kleenex from the coffee table, wiping her cheeks and eyes.

“Why are you crying, Ivy?”

“Because I’m sad,” Ivy half-yelled. What a dumb question.

“Why are you sad?”

“I miss my friend. And I’ll never see her again. She’s gone.” She looked at the woman who was nodding. How could she simply nod? “I abandoned her,” she suddenly blurted and her cries became stronger.

“No,” the woman moved toward her and put her hand on her shoulder. “You didn't.” Ivy nodded.

“Yes, I did. She needed me.”

“No. You let her go.” Ivy wiped more tears from her face.

“What do you mean? She left.” Suddenly she realized. “She abandoned me.” The woman removed her hand.

“You no longer needed each other. You let her go, and she went.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Something brought you two together. You needed one another. But when you realized the relationship wasn’t healthy, you let her go. You protected yourself.” Ivy tried to process her words, but it was too much. “You needed her to help you deal with your pain and anger.”

“My pain and anger? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ivy stood from the couch and started pacing.

“She helped you avoid everything you pushed down and wanted to avoid. She was the band-aid you needed.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Ivy yelled.

“Think about it Ivy. When did it start? What was happening in your life?” Ivy’s head was beginning to hurt. She struggled to think clearly. Her eyes were shifting from left to right and back again, quickly, looking for something to help her, soothe her from the stress she felt.

“Nothing. My life was boring. Worthless. Until I met Maggie.”

“When did it happen?”

“She brought fun, excitement, adventure, meaning!”

“Ivy, when did it happen?”

“What does it matter? What my life was like? It’s over now! I have nothing!”

“That’s not true, Ivy. You can do this. You’re ready.”

“What?” She was even more confused.

“When did it happen?”

“Five years ago!” she yelled. “I met her five years ago.”

“When?”

“On my way home from…. somewhere…” she couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember?

“When, Ivy?”

“Five years ago!” she yelled again, enunciating each syllable. “I was walking home.”

“Where from?” Ivy drew a blank. Had she been walking home from work? It was dark. Had it been winter, with the sun already down by the end of the work day? She could see herself coming up on Maggie. It was cold. Ivy had given her her scarf. The street was practically empty. So, she hadn’t been walking home from work. Where had she been? "Ivy?”

“I don’t remember!”

“Try,” the woman encouraged her. She could see herself handing Maggie her the cup of hot cocoa, sitting next to her.

“A cup of cocoa,” Ivy suddenly said.

“What?”

“Hot cocoa,” Ivy repeated and turned to the woman. “I gave her a cup of cocoa.” The woman nodded. Ivy calmed and her heart stopped beating so fast. She felt like she could breathe again. “It was cold. I didn’t want her to freeze.”

“Where did you get the cocoa from?.” Ivy ignored her.

“We sat on the bench, drinking our hot cocoa.”

“Ivy, you’re getting off track.”

“You asked me about my meeting her. I’m telling you.”

“You haven’t told me where you were coming from!” Ivy’s chest tightened again. It felt difficult to breathe and she wanted to leave.

“I don’t remember.”

“Yes, you do. You’re almost there. Just breathe, and think.” Ivy hesitated. This felt wrong. Something was wrong. Her heart started pounding, her chest ached, and she was frozen in place. “It’s ok. You’re safe. Tell me.”

“I…” Images were starting to creep into her mind. She was sitting at a cafe, alone, reading a book. She kept looking at the door each time it opened. Was she afraid, or waiting for someone? She smiled when a man walked in. Their eyes met and he smiled and walked over to her. She closed her book, set it aside, and they began to talk. “I was at a cafe.” The woman nodded, but Ivy couldn’t see her. “I met a man for hot cocoa.” The two of them were laughing and he reached over and touched her hand. She didn’t flinch, or pull away, but smiled. “We talked for what felt like hours.” A single tear rolled down her cheek as she watched them leave the cafe together. “We walked around the city, despite the cold, talking. We shared our life stories, our dreams.” They were walking side by side in a park. Neither of them seemed to mind the cold as they walked and talked. “We had a lot laughs, but there were moments of silence too. But none of them uncomfortable.” The man took her hand in his and she smiled as he led her somewhere. “He told me he was cold, and wanted to show me something.” They came to an apartment building and went inside. “He told me he could make the best hot cocoa ever, and I wanted to believe him.” They got into his apartment and took off their coats. It was nice. He ushered her into the kitchen and she watched as he worked. “I didn’t want the date to end, so I went with him.” Tears were now flowing freely, but she could barely feel them. She could only feel the swelling pain in her chest. “While he waited for the water to boil, he kissed me.” She brought her hand to her lips. Her hand was cold. “I liked it.” She could see the top of the pot shaking. She pulled away from him and pointed at it. He smiled and turned to attend to it. “I went into his living room to look around. He had pretty art and interesting books. The more I got to know about him, the more excited I got.” He walked in and handed her a cup of cocoa. “The cocoa was really good.” The woman smiled, but again, Ivy couldn’t see her. “It was the best I’d ever tasted. We sat on his couch and resumed talking.” He leaned over and kissed her again. “We kissed and talked, and talked and kissed until…” Her chest tightened even more and Ivy felt as though she couldn’t breathe. The woman didn’t move from her seat.

“It’s OK, Ivy. You’re safe.” Ivy shook her head, no.

“I can’t,” she stammered.

“Yes, you can. It’s OK.” Ivy closed her eyes, wishing she were anywhere but there.

“I started feeling strange, woozy. I couldn’t see straight.” She tried to get up from the couch, but fell back onto it. He caught her, a worried look in his eyes. “He was so kind. He checked for a fever, felt my pulse, and started googling my symptoms. I felt so stupid.”

“Then what happened?”

Images of the man unbuttoning her pants forced their way into her mind. And then of his lifting her shirt and squeezing her breasts. “I don’t… I can’t.” She squeezed her eyes tight.

“You’re ok, Ivy. What happened next?”

“I couldn’t move,” she sobbed. “My arms and legs felt heavy. I could barely breathe.” He moved her body to lie on the couch from end to end and climbed on top of her. “He touched me,” she cried. She could feel his hands on her face. “He violated me.” She could barely breathe now, her sobs making her heave in pain. “I didn’t want him to. I tried to yell at him to stop. I wanted to push him off me, but I couldn’t move.” Ivy suddenly came back to reality and felt like she was going to throw up. She crumbled to the floor. “I let him touch me. I let him in. I let him...”

“No, Ivy! You didn’t. It was not your fault.”

"I went up with him... I went into his apartment...."

"It wasn't your fault."

“He…” she was sobbing and couldn’t get the words out. “I…” She screamed. There was so much pain. So much anger.

“You have to say it, Ivy.”

“I can’t,” her body was out of her control. She couldn’t stop the sobbing, the heaving. Her head and heart were aching.

“Yes, you can.” She lay there sobbing and screaming for what felt like a long time. The woman just watched her. When her heart finally felt like it was no longer going to burst, when her lungs seemed to finally find air, and she could swallow the overabundance of saliva collecting in her mouth, she took a deep breath. “Say it, Ivy.” Ivy took another deep breath.

“He raped me.” She slowly sat up, hugged her knees to her body, and looked out the window at the sky. Silence. There was no sound of life anywhere around them, not even coming from the street below. The pain in her head and heart was gone. She let go of her legs and let them fall in front of her. She could breathe. She could feel. She stood and moved closer to the window. The sun was still high in the sky. There were people rushing about below going who knows where. The cars were moving faster than they should.

“And then what happened?” Ivy sighed.

“I woke up on a park bench in the dark, clothed, my purse with all of its belongings,” she gave a small laugh. “Even the book I’d brought with me to the cafe.” She turned to face the woman. “I walked home, and met Maggie on the way.”

“Did you?” Ivy looked at her, confused. “Do you remember her now?” Ivy laughed.

“Of course,” she said, and began searching her mind. She could see herself walking home, no one paying any attention to her though she seemed to be stumbling. “I was walking home…” She came to a bench at a bus stop and leaned against it. It was the bench where she’d met Maggie only, it was empty. She sat down, silent and still for some time. She didn’t look well, but no one paid her any mind. They just kept walking past her. “I swear, Maggie was there.” She searched her memory and couldn’t find her. She could see herself walking away from the bench, alone. Her heart started beating fast again. She could see herself getting home, tearing off her clothes and jumping into a hot shower, where she stayed for over an hour. “She was there….” Her eyes started rapidly moving from left to right over and over again, searching for Maggie in her mind. Why was she gone? Her knees suddenly buckled and she fell to the floor. The woman rushed over to her side.

“Ivy? Ivy, you’re OK. It’s OK.”

“What’s happening?”

“You’re having a panic attack,” the woman explained.

“Where’s Maggie?” she screamed.

“She’s gone.”

“Where? Where did she go?” Suddenly, all of her memories with Maggie were altered and Maggie was no longer there. Ivy was the one baking the cake. Ivy was the one drinking her pain away. “I don’t understand. Where’s Maggie?” she screamed.

“She was never really there.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” She searched her memory some more, and Ivy was the one on the bathroom floor. She was the one fucking the man in the alley. The room started spinning and Ivy felt like she was going to throw up.

“Breathe, Ivy,” the woman told her.

“But Maggie….” she sobbed. “Maggie was…” She explored her memory further to see herself speaking to strangers in a foreign accent, high as a kite. She could see herself fucking the man in her bed, passing out after and waking to him jerking off. “Maggie…” she cried.

“She was a band-aid.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You created her to protect yourself.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” The woman moved back to the rocking chair. Ivy could feel her breath and reality returning to her. “You were able to separate yourself from your pain and anger. You didn’t want to remember what had happened to you. Nor did you want to believe your reactions were your own. You created Maggie to feel safe, because a part of you needed to act out. And yet, a part of you knew doing so was not okay.”

“But… I never…”

“You created Maggie so that you could work on feeling safe as you lashed out in anger and pain.” They sat in silence for some time. She couldn’t have simply just made it all up, could she? She slowly stood and walked over to the painting Maggie had made. She pointed at it.

“Maggie painted that,” she whispered. The woman shook her head, no.

“It was you.”

“We spoke,” she turned to the woman. “Every day, we’d talk, we’d fight, we’d…” The woman simply nodded, sympathetic and kind. Ivy’s eyes widened as she remembered. “Hope!” she practically yelled out. “Maggie’s daughter.” She ran to her room and took out the bottom drawer with all of the item’s to remind her of Maggie. “She was here!” She sat on her bed and pulled out the note the girl had written. Thank you for telling the truth. Forever keep Hope. Keep? It hadn’t said that before. It had said ‘forever your’, like the end of a letter.

“You wrote that,” the woman told her. She was standing in the doorway.

“We spoke.”

“You created her when your own hope was returning and you knew you could begin to heal.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense.” She dropped the note to the side and went back into the drawer. The scarf she’d given Maggie that first day. It was old and falling apart, but still held it’s lilac color. It was soft. Ivy brought it to her face. Something itched her and she pulled it back to reveal a tag. Ivy pulled on it to see “Ivy” scribbled across.

“Your scarf from that day,” the woman said and Ivy nodded.

“My scarf, but I’d given it to Maggie.” She tossed it onto the bed and reached for another item. A necklace. A locket, the chain, broken. “Ha!” Ivy half yelled. “This was Maggie’s.” Ivy could clearly remember the moment Maggie had handed it to her. When she’d moved out, she’d forgotten it so Ivy put it in the drawer for safe keeping. The woman walked over, stood at the end of the bed and sighed.

“Open it,” she told her. Ivy had never done it. She’d felt it wasn’t her place, it wasn’t right. “It’s OK. Open it,” the woman repeated. Though her fingers were shaking, Ivy gripped the locket and opened it. Her breath seemed to leave her when she saw her mother’s face smiling up at her. She gasped and let the locket fall. She could see it now, how the chain had broken when the man in the alley had choked her. She could feel the cold locket slip from around her neck.

“I don’t understand.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks now, but she ignored them. She looked down into the drawer, only a few things left. She took a receipt in her hand and opened it. It was a receipt for hot cocoa - that she’d purchased for her and Maggie. But it wasn’t. It had the price of only one hot cocoa listed under the name “Cafe Elize”. That had been where she’d met the man who’d raped her. She let the receipt fall and grabbed another item, a book. A short while ago, Ivy would have sworn the book had been Maggie’s favorite and that’s why she kept it. But now she knew, she recognized it. It was the book she’d been reading while waiting for him. She sobbed as she put the book on the bed beside her and stared down at the now empty drawer. ”She wasn’t real…” Words could no longer come to her. She was devastated and confused, but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel angry. She didn’t even feel like crying anymore. She took a deep breath.

“You’ve done it, Ivy,” the woman spoke softly. “You finally faced your fear, your pain, your anger. Something you couldn’t do as long as you had Maggie with you.” Ivy didn’t look at her.

“I created Maggie to protect myself?” she asked, and she felt the woman nod.

“As Maggie, you could act out your anger and pain without feeling the harm, shame and other emotions directly.”

“But it was me,” she said. “I did all of those things. The drinking, the drugs, the… sex.”

“Yes. It was you, but it wasn’t.”

“I don’t understand,” she finally looked at the woman.

“Yes, you do. That’s how we’re able to have this conversation.” Ivy sighed and looked out the window. It looked like it was going to rain. “That’s how you’re finally able to face it.”

“I wouldn’t have without you,” Ivy admitted, looking back at the woman.

“I’m only here because of you,” the woman told her. Ivy gave a small smile, and then stopped. Was this woman really there, or just another creation of her own mind? “Like Hope, I came when you were ready.” Ivy wanted to ask her if she was real, but felt it foolish and pointless to do so. She put everything back in the drawer and placed it on top of her dresser.

“What now?” she asked, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She was so thin, and pale. She looked unhealthy. She felt the woman move closer, though still out of sight.

“I’m here because your faith is rebuilding. So, have a little faith.”

“Faith,” Ivy repeated.

“Faith that you’ll be OK.”

“Faith.” She straightened her shoulders and neck, watching her chest move up and down with each breath.

“Faith in the people of the world again.”

“Faith.” She finally looked at her face reflected back at her. Despite being swollen, red and looking exhausted, she was pretty.

“Faith in goodness, kindness, and love.”

“Faith,” she repeated one last time, looking deeply into her own eyes. Yes, they were tired. Yes, they were red, but behind all of that, she could see hope and faith again. She stared in silence for some time and then took another deep breath. The room was so quiet. She turned her head to find the woman was gone. She walked into the living room and around to the kitchen, empty. She went back into her room, closing the door behind her. Letting out a huge sigh, she let herself fall into bed. She closed her eyes as she pulled her blankets around her, and fell asleep to the soft rain falling outside. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t dream about Maggie. She didn’t dream at all, she simply slept.

Ⓒ September 2019. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.