Broken Promises

One

South Side Chicago, 2000

Fiona

"You're alright." I coo, hoisting Debbie up on my hip higher so she doesn't reach for the burner on the stove—again. I grab her bottle from the counter and hand it over, thankful when she stops screaming long enough to take a few deep pulls. We both turn our attention to the door as it bursts open and in walks Frank, dragging the frigid Chicago winter in with him.

"Leaving one of my kids out in the cold is unacceptable Fiona!" He bellows, tipping the almost empty bottle of vodka up to savor the last mouthful.

I glance behind him and freeze.

There's a little girl standing there, messy brown hair, hazel eyes wide and alert. No coat. Visibly shaking.

Who the hell is that?

Frank follows my gaze, squinting in the harsh overhead light. "Who the hell are you?" He asks, as if he's not the one who just brought her inside. He doesn't wait for an answer—pushing through the kitchen on his way to bed, nearly falling over the wash machine.

The little girl shrinks back into the door, glancing around the room without a sound.

I blink at her.

"Uh... who are you?"

Our eyes meet and my stupid heart twists, taking in her blood red cheeks and thin sweater. I wave her toward the table and go back to the half burnt eggs on the stove. "Maggie." She says softly, taking the offered seat. I toss the pan to the back burner and set Debbie down, watching her crawl off towards the living room as I open the downstairs closet and begin rummaging.

I pull out a battered coat, two sizes too big for the kid but way too small for me and hand it over.

"Well, Maggie, put that on."

She does, quickly and murmurs a soft thank you. I  give her a sad smile, resting my hands on my hips.

Alright.

Now what.

"Ya hungry?"

She doesn't answer but gives me the usual south side look—wide eyes that probably don't even know what hungry is because she's never been full. "Yeah, of course you are. Okay." I grab the toast from the toaster and toss it on a plate with the brown eggs, sitting it down in front of her carefully. "Go ahead."

She doesn't hesitate, eating like she hasn't seen food in days.

"Where'd Frank find you?" I ask, adding more bread to the machine as I hear Lip and Ian finally come alive upstairs. I've only been yelling for the past thirty minutes. "At the bus stop." Maggie says softly around a mouthful of eggs. The bus doesn't run for another thirty minutes. "How long you been waiting out there?" Our eyes meet again and I frown. The color still hasn't retuned to her cheeks, so—a while.