Peyton At Heaven's Gate

This is the beginning of a story that I may continue with and I may just let stand alone. Not sure yet. This story was written for the Writers Games group here at the Cafe.

NOTE: The assignment was to write about a homeless child. It had to include an expensive restuarant, something lost, and it had to be set the first week of school. Here, 13-year-old Peyton crouches in the enterance of an expensive restuarant, has lost all respect for her mother, and is trying to figure out how to cope.

 

Peyton At Heaven’s Gate

A short story

By Erin L George

 

Peyton huddled under the awning. She knew by now how to stay out of the rain. And this wasn’t any ordinary rainstorm. It came, pelting to the ground. In the past, she may have liked the sound. It reminded her of the drums in the old band at her elementary school. She closed her eyes and tried to be there. She needed to be anywhere, anywhere but here.

 

Here. How did she get here? The 13-year-old girl pulled at her stringy auburn locks, letting them bounce back to her ears. She hated her curly hair. She remembered the movie she’d watched so long ago with her mother, the one about the orphan called Annie and groaned. At least Annie had that dog. She missed her dog, Max, the old beagle who’d never been quite trained and always leaped at her plate of food at the supper table. She missed it all. Home. Well, everything but that awful man, Ken.

 

She glanced down at the plastic Brat’s watch she’d borrowed only weeks ago from her little sister, Britney. Britney was one of those girly girls. She was the an thesis of Payton, who preferred sneakers and worn out jeans to any sort of girly glitz. She was thankful to have it now. It was 5:32 a.m. The prep chefs would be arriving soon. She could not stay here, dry, under the awning much longer. No, Peyton knew that the corner of Fifth and Birch would be a busy place in only an hour’s time.

 

Chefs would be arriving to cut peppers, onions. They’d shred cheese in groggy silence, sipping at their Starbucks coffee and drilling waiters on the menu. They’d toss the leftover dinner supplies from the night before into the dumpster, completely unaware of the little girl whose stomach was growling in their wake.

 

Shrugging, Peyton pulled the navy hoodie closer to her ears. She straightened the wool cap that she’d found in a garbage can behind the old thrift shop on 42^nd Street, and stood up from her spot on the stoop of Heaven’s Gate Restaurant.

 

Heaven’s Gate. Yeah. Right. …If only. She sighed.

 

Gathering her only possessions in the world, an old gray backpack filled with her writing journals, the scarf her Mimi had knitted for her when she was ten, and the green toothbrush and toothpaste she’d managed to sneak out of the house with her that night, Peyton looked up at the sky. She knew the rain would not be slowing down any time soon. A farm girl always knew the signs of mother nature. And right now, mother nature was more angry than Ken had been the day she’d turned up pregnant.

 

There were other places, safe places, dry places she could go. She’d made quick inventory of these places - always sure to stick to the more expensive streets, lined with boutiques and the things she’d grown so accustomed to living in the Vineyard. She knew better than to go up more than ten blocks, or out more than six. Peyton had never been one to catch on slowly. And common sense was something the teen had learned at an early age from her grandfather. If only Papa was still here! She moaned. Papa would have known what to do! Papa always knew what to do!

 

Papa had died three years ago. He’d suffered from pancreatic cancer and Peyton had filled more than her share of notebooks with her tears and the scribbling of a young girl lost. Peyton had always been Papa’s favorite. Everyone else preferred Britney - Mom, Mimi, and most of all Ken. Even Max seemed to wag his tail a little more when Brit stepped in the room. But with Papa, Peyton had always felt so understood. They shared a passion for all things old and would spend hours working on building model sailboats. He’d cut, sand, and assemble them. She’s paint them - taking hours to be sure each and every piece was just right.

 

She peeked around the corner of Heaven’s Gate and let the rain fall past her glasses into her eyes. The chefs wouldn’t make their food dump for at least another half hour or so. She had plenty of time to find a place to stay dry. Carefully, so that no one would see her, she sneaked along the buildings - trying to stay as dry as possible - until she reached Lola’s.

 

Peyton could not understand how any woman would ever spend $500 on a pair of shoes. She hadn’t understood why her mother had done it. And, looking up at the zebra printed spikes, she was even more unsure why anyone would even want to walk in such heels - let alone pay for them! But Lola’s was safe. The women who shopped and worked here would not be around until at least 11 a.m. No, they had other things to do, like eat their made-on-demand quiche and inspect their day-old pedicures. A girl had to have just the right toes for shoe shopping, after all. Her mother taught her that. Mom! Why didn’t you see it? Why couldn’t you take my side? She slid down the glass entrance to the boutique and closed her eyes. She wished her stomach would be quiet. But she knew it would only grow bigger, and louder, with each passing day. What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do? She cried.

 

Peyton knew there was no going back. She’d lost all respect for her mom. Her mother hadn’t wanted to believe her. She was too enamored with Ken and his wallet. She was more interested in the cruise they were planning than Peyton’s cries for help. She’d done exactly nothing when he’d hit her across the face, calling her a w***e. And Peyton knew she’d only be more furious if she really knew the truth - the whole truth. No. There was no going back. She had to come up with a plan. She had to do something. Anything! There was no way she could survive on these streets. She was lucky she had been able to manage this long. But she was getting hungrier, it was getting colder, and she was well aware that she’s already missed the first week of school.

 

The baby inside her was already starting to make her presence known. And the torn Levi’s Peyton had left in were becoming snug. She winced, thinking of her options. She’d seen a poster in the subway station. Maybe she’d call the number she’d jotted down in her favorite purple spiral notebook. Maybe they could help? It did say confidential. But she was so worried they would send her back. And if they did? What would become of her and the baby? No. She couldn’t go back. She reached for the notebook, inhaling the salty wink of bacon frying in a café down the road.

Author's Note

Not sure whether I should continue with this or not. What do u think?

Reviews

[Millionth Muse]

I think that this short story could easily be continued into a much longer one, but it is also quite nice left with the ending you gave it. Usually I don't like major cliffhangers, but basically at the end of this, you left us with something simple...the desperation of a little girl who was homeless and had been abused. Great imagery, and you write beautifully...I love your "voice" and the tone was great. Nicely done!

[Nyida Strong]

I like how you left it, hanging, uncertain. You could go either way. Continue the story and tell us what happens to Peyton, or leave it be and let us wonder. No matter how you swing it, this story works! I love how you incoorperated all the aspects of the challenge. (I intend to write one as well) I loved it, well done!

N. Strong