Little Girl, Little Girl (Short Story)

Little Girl, Little Girl [Continuation]

 “Mommy’s… gone.” Noah said, sadly.

“Mommy gone?” Bobo said. Noah nodded, observing her confused reaction. Bobo still didn’t seem to understand, and Noah felt relieved. She wouldn’t cry - not like his daughter did - and Noah wouldn’t see that expression of awful, terrible pain.

“Yes. I need to call someone. Do… do you have a phone in your house?” Noah said. He stood up, and watched as she shook her head, putting a thumb into her mouth. Bobo knew that something was wrong, but she either couldn’t register it or didn’t understand. “Bobo, where’s the phone?” 

She shook her head, shrugging.

“No phone?” Noah sighed. “Okay… I can’t remember whether I had my phone last night…It must be in my coat’s pocket…” He hurried near the front door and was relieved to see the crumpled coat on the ground. Breathing heavily, Noah picked it up, found the cellphone in his pocket and called the police. 

After hanging up, Noah realized Bobo wasn’t where she was standing earlier and he went to look for her. Noah found her in the room where Bobo’s mother was laying, splayed on the stained mattress. Bobo was sitting cross-legged, her thumb stuck in her mouth, staring deeply at her mother’s face. Noah kneeled beside Bobo, sighing. He observed the woman’s blank expression, but soon tore his gaze away and looked at the little girl instead. Bobo continued to suck on her thumb, shaking slightly. She still didn’t cry. 

Little girl, little girl. Why won’t you cry? Is it because you don’t miss your mommy, because she wasn’t a good mother anyway? Or is that you don't understand?

Noah suddenly remembered the empty expression his depressed daughter always held after his wife's death. He gulped and felt as if he would start crying. But Bobo’s hand slid into his, and Noah was grateful that he could squeeze it gently to keep from sobbing. He closed his eyes tightly to get rid of his daughter’s saddening expression and opened them again. 

“Mommy gone? Really?” Bobo asked, struggling on her words.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. 

Bobo still didn’t cry.

Noah sighed, standing up on weak limbs. He wasn't sure if the alcoholic from last night was causing him to feel faint, or if it was the tense and grievous moment. He guessed both. Noah looked down sadly at Bobo and picked her up. He brought her into the kitchen, plopping her into one of the chairs, saying, “Stay there, Bobo. Okay?”

When she nodded obeyingly, Noah hurried into the previous room and found his socks and shirt. He had been wearing his boxers and pants, but suddenly felt naked in the awful house. He needed to dress anyway, since he could hear the sirens from a police cruiser and an ambulance rushing dutifully down the street.

After hearing a several, impatient knocks, Noah let them in. Four solemn men entered the house, barely giving Noah a glance as they began their work. The policemen looked intimidating, which caused Bobo to look panicked. Noah grabbed her, feeling something warm when she wrapped her arms around his neck. He followed the men into through the house, directing them into the bedroom. Noah watched as they stared darkly at the woman in front of them. He left the room, not quite catching the bitter mutter from one man to another.

Noah nearly cried, and he had no idea why. Still clutching onto Bobo, he made his way into the kitchen and sat in a chair.

Little girl, little girl, will you miss your mommy? Or will you hate her when you're older?

“How are you doing, Bobo?” Noah asked. He didn’t receive a response, but felt her soft breathing on his neck. She was sleeping. He sat in silence, until the peacefulness was interrupted by the policemen, who stated they would bring Noah to the station for questioning. He was pleased to hear that he was not in trouble; the woman’s death was caused by either kidney and liver failure due to the obvious drug use.  

When Noah arrived at the police station, he was asked many small, but difficult questions. He answered them all. 

Not once did he let go of Bobo.

After several emotional hours, it was decided that Bobo was going to be sent to a temporary home, until an adoptive family would take her. As Noah waited for the social worker to arrive at the station, he thought, maybe I can take her in. Maybe I can adopt her. Noah held the sleeping child tightly, biting his lips until it bled. 

Noah saw too much of his dead daughter. Bobo was a small version of his daughter who had killed herself because she missed her mother. And Noah was a father who had not been able to save his own damn daughter, was not able to stay a day dry after his daughter's funeral. He currently had a weak job, barely supporting himself and his alcoholism. Noah was a father who had lost a daughter and here she was again, in Bobo's strong spirit. But he was too weak, he was too stupid, he was too drunk, he was too scared to take her in.

Noah watched the social worker take Bobo away, thinking, Will you ever forgive me? For letting you go like this? I don't think you should, Bobo, because here I am letting you leave my grasp like I did with my wife and my daughter. Bobo, I really don't want you to forgive me. I want you to forget me. But Bobo's head poked over the worker's shoulder. And Noah saw her wide, sad, scared eyes as the adult strode away. Bobo would never forgive him.

Little girl, little girl.