FICTION WITH A POINT: "Hope's Song" by Cheryl Wyatt

Hope’s Song
by Cheryl Wyatt

Tory Mendez sat scrunched against plush cushions in the burgundy Explorer. Her father lifted his eyes momentarily off the Interstate to glance at her through the rearview mirror.

“Still sulking,” he whispered to his wife. He knew Tory couldn’t hear; she wore headphones and her neon blue portable CD player blared. Eyes clenched as tightly as her mouth. She’d barely spoken ten sentences in fourteen hours on the road.

Tory’s mom studied their unhappy passenger. In sixteen years, Patricia had never seen Tory this sullen.

World War Three had erupted in the Mendez home the day Tory’s parents gently explained they were moving. Tory’s nineteen year old brother Raul took the news well. Tory, however, had run from the room screeching like their cat Poncho the day his tail got stuck in the dishwasher.

Her father’s job was transferring them out of state. They’d yearned to get their children out from under the influence of the dangerous area they lived in, an Arizona city with a high crime rate.

The fifth day of Tory’s rampage, Mother marched upstairs, ready for combat. She’d been patient with her daughter but this was ridiculous.

After the third unanswered knock, her fist came down hard on the door. The music in Tory’s room fell silent.

“Go away Raul!” Tory spewed venomously.

“It’s not Raul and you’d better unlock this door.” A few seconds of silence passed.

“What do you want?”

Mother's heart softened at her daughter’s deflated tone. “Can you open up, I’d like to talk with you.”

“I don’t feel like talking.”

“Sometimes it helps.”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me, I was your age once, remember?”

There was a “sniff," soft footsteps, then a “click.”

Mother opened the unlocked door. Tory sat on her bed. Church and school yearbooks, pictures of friends, and a Diary surrounded her. Scattered amidst the memorabilia were soggy, tattered tissues.

“I see you’ve made a dent in these, too.” Mother's voice held a sympathetic tone as she patted a half-empty box of Kleenex on Tory's pillow.

“The commercial’s right, Puffs are better.”

Mother detected a smile in her words. She tenderly brushed a curly tendril of Tory’s dark brown hair out of almond eyes that were swollen and bloodshot from crying.

“I know this is hard. Sometimes there are reasons for things though we can’t understand at the time. I love you. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

Tory thanked her as they embraced, but Mother knew it was going to take something bigger than a hug to melt the sadness in her daughter’s eyes and heart. She whispered a prayer to God for Tory as she pattered back down the stairs.

The last time her daughter had erupted into a tantrum of this magnitude, she’d been in diapers. At the foot of the stairs, Mother brushed her hand along the peeling wallpaper, thinking how much easier it would be to repair than the hope that lay crushed in her daughter’s heart.

Three weeks later, the Mendez’s headed for Kentucky. As they drove through the small town, Tory was amazed at how green it was. “I’d leap for joy to see a tumbleweed right now,” she said as she studied her new hometown with disdain.

Later, at the dinner table, she popped her eyes open and folded her arms during the prayer the instant her father said, “...and God, we thank you for the blessing of this new job...”

Blessing? What, are they crazy? Tory didn’t even try to hide her audible snort and intentionally twisted her face into a smirk. A look of pain flashed across her mother’s face and her father’s fork “clunked.” She was in trouble now. It didn’t matter. Maybe they’d send her back to live with one of her friends.

“Tory, the universe doesn’t revolve around you. The sooner you figure that out, the better off you’ll be.” Her father stabbed his pork chop with his fork. Tory felt rage rising in her chest. She stood despite the warning in her father’s eyes. She turned to her mother, the creampuff.

“You obviously don’t care about me and the two of you are nuts if you think I’m ever going to like being here.”

Tory stomped to her room with Raul’s words chasing her down the hall. “If you had any sense, you’d seek Him for help instead of attacking mom and dad. They do care or they wouldn’t have bothered to give up so much for us.”

Tory lay in her bed, unable to fight off God’s gentle but firm nudges of conviction. “What did they have to give up?” Before the sentence was out, Tory felt the answer burn in her heart. Nearly everything. Their careers, the house, friends, everything familiar. The truth softened her heart and she let tears of remorse fall.

“Father in Heaven, I know I have some apologizing to do and it’s going to start right here, right now, with You.”

That night, Tory made up her mind to try to be content. She asked God for help and as she was honest with Him about her feelings, she felt His compassion, forgiveness and love.

Still, she dreaded school the next day, being the new kid. After the teacher introduced her to the class, Tory self-consciously took her seat.

Tears trembled on her eyelids when she saw the card on her desk. Her hands quaked as she read the words:

“Dear Victoria, welcome to Kentucky. We’re glad you came to be a part of our class and our town. We’re all looking forward to getting to know you. We’re holding a ‘Get-to-know-Tory’ party tonight at the skating rink in your honor. Please come. It’ll be fun. See you at five. Love, your new friends from Kentucky.”

Every student had signed it.

Tory grinned for the first time in weeks. Her heart was smiling too. In her soul, hope breathed and began to sing again.