(short story) Looking Through The Fence

He chose the swings today, she observes. 

 Tess watches the little boy, Tristan, choose a swing placed relatively higher up. He stretches out his skinny arms and tightly grasps the rusty chains. He tries to pull himself up onto the swing, and Tess can see his face turning tomato red. Tristan is scowling, making sounds of frustration while his shaggy, auburn hair gets blown into his face by the wind. When he falls on his bottom a third time, he tears up. Giving up, he storms off to the other side of the playground, and Tess slowly traces his path on the outside of the fence. She wants nothing more than to jump the fence, put him on that swing, and push him to his little hearts content. She remembers the time years ago when she could have. She continues to subtly watch Tristan attempt his next adventure: trying and failing to scale up a wide-birthed oak tree. She can't help but smile, happy to see he still has a sense of adventure and stubborn determination. 

 Three years earlier, close to Tristan's fourth birthday, Tess had been babysitting him while her mom and mom's boyfriend had to work. Tristan was being fussy, which is how babysitting sessions always began with him until he focused on playing, rather than his father being absent. Tess had decided to walk to the church a block away from the house. With Tristan's sweaty little hand clenched tight with hers, they walked in the humid summer weather to the church, where the only attraction was a decently sized grassy hill. That was all they needed though. Tristan adored that hill, and often acted out daring adventures filled with cops and robbers, popular comic book heroes, monsters and those who fight them. He also liked to think that he was invincible and curled into a ball at the top of the hill and proceeded to "roll" down. It was really just him doing a weird crawl down the hill, but Tess always had to laugh at his enthusiasm. That particular day, though, Tristan lost his footing and actually rolled a little way down the hill, hitting his head and covering his knees and shorts with dirt and grass stains. He had burst into tears, and Tess panicked, picking him up and awkwardly rubbing his head. She carried him back home.

Ten minutes later, she had to tell him to stop jumping from couch to couch.

 Tristan had always had so much energy. But now two years later, Tess observes through the elementary school's fence that while Tristan still retains the qualities she loved best about him, his eyes do not have that happy sparkle anymore. He also seemed to be growing thinner over the past month or two. Tess is growing more concerned, and this is why she keeps an eye on him when she could; his outside playtime with his kindergarten class on Fridays, right before school got out.

 The bell lets out its usual shrill ring, signaling the oncoming crowd of tired children and aggravated parents. Tess quickly melts into the crowd, blending in with older siblings forced to drag young children home. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally sees the car pull up.

 She doesn't recognize the young woman in the driver's seat. She must have been another poor sucker that agreed to help Casey. Casey is in the passenger seat, slumped down with her bangs over her right eye. 

 Tess raises her eyebrow as Casey fails to convince her companion to be the one that gets out of the car. Casey climbs out, and Tess must cover her mouth to stop from gasping out loud.

Casey looked even more terrible than when she saw her last. She was extremely thin, her face pasty pale and gaunt, and her eyes (the only visible one anyway) had a dilated pupil and bloodshot veins. Besides being the poster woman for what drugs can do to a person, Tess notices that Casey has a gigantic, grotesque, purple blotch of a bruise on her right forearm. The underside of her left arm has a long, swollen gash. When the wind blows, Casey's bangs are lifted over her eye, and Tess sees a half-healed black eye.

Tess feels the tears brimming in her eyes, and watches as Casey stalks over to Tristan and picks him up. Tristan's face contorts into some of the most potent misery Tess has ever seen. 

"Mommy, I'm hungry" she hears Tristan say as they pass by her, unnoticed.

"I'll see what I can do." Casey mutters, strapping Tristan into the car seat incorrectly, which Casey’s companion snaps at Casey for and adjusts. 

Tess feels helpless watching them drive away, and she finally lets the tears out. She used to help look out for Tristan, used to watch as her mom tried to help Tristan's dad fight for full custody so Tristan wouldn't have to endure his mother's felon boyfriend beating her up, and so he could have food on the table every night...so he wouldn't have to see the black hole his mom was spiraling down. Child Protective Services has been involved, but nothing ever seems to come from it. And now, since Tess's mom and Tristan's dad broke up, she hasn't spoken to them or gotten to really see Tristan since. Things seem to be going downhill for the little boy. Tess's heart is broken and breaks more every day for the little boy she loves like the little brother she never had. 

Tess wipes her tears and takes a deep breath. She slowly starts the walk home, staring at the sidewalk.

A few days later, Tess declares her Social Work major after a year of being undecided.

*Copyright 2014- Bailey C. Writing