Can You Keep It Saintly?

4 “Before Sicily, Italy”

Year 2017, seven years before Sicily, Italy

Atlas, 23 years old back then, stumbled through the streets of Pine Ridge, North Carolina, her body trembling and her heart racing. The memories of the abuse she had endured were still fresh in her mind, even though she had managed to escape from her tormentor. Every bump and bruise on her body told a tale of pain and suffering, and the cut on her lower lip served as a stark reminder of the violence she had lived through. Despite having shaved her hair off into a pixie cut, she felt vulnerable and exposed, as if the scars on her skin were visible to the world.

Atlas could not help but feel the weight of judgment on her as she walked through the town, keeping her head down low and her baggy hood pulled up to cover her face to protect her identity even if she was new in town and had just arrived. Every glance or stares from the local townsfolk made her feel self-conscious and exposed, as if they could see the horrors she had endured. The memories of her abuse were fresh in her mind, the way he screamed at her with so much anger in his voice, the way he chased her with degrading names, the way she took everything because she loved him, the blows she had endured with the baseball bat were still fresh in her psyche. It seemed as if the world was closing in on her, and she had nowhere to hide.

The convenience store seemed to taunt her with its selection of ready-to-eat meals, biscuits, some sandwiches and other food. Her stomach protested loudly as she rummaged through her pockets, searching frantically for any cash she might have left in her wallet or pockets. But no matter how many times she checked, her pockets remained empty. It was a crushing realization - she had nothing left after using her last bit of money on the bus ticket and some small snacks along the way as she got here in a new and small town. She could not use her debit card or credit card either, she could not withdraw any cash, since she was afraid that he would track her location. She knew that he would track her easily since he knew people who could do it so easily.

Atlas did not want to be located. She did not want to be found at all. She wanted to hide as much as she could, she would, and that was all she could do against him. Hide and fear him. She had feared him since she met him. She feared him a lot. Even if she was now in a small and new town, his shadows were still hovering over her and she was scared of seeing him here. She kept her head down and tried to avoid eye contact with the shopkeeper, all the while praying that she would not be caught and forcibly taken back to her abuser as she slipped out of the store.

“Are you alright?”

Atlas was surprised to hear a voice behind her, and as she pulled her head up, she came face-to-face with the elderly female attendant who had been manning the cashier in the convenience store when she entered earlier. The old woman had kind eyes and a knowing look in them, and she observed the anxiety and exhaustion that seemed to radiate from Atlas. It was clear that she could sense something was not right with the young woman who had a cut on her lower lip, a bit of healed blackeye on her right.

Ingrid, the elderly woman, could see the panicked and anxious expression on Atlas’ face, and instantly felt a sense of worry. Her kind eyes softened as she examined her closely, taking note of how exhausted she looked. The woman’s name tag, Ingrid, hung on her uniform, glinting in the bright light of her convenience store. The complete concern etched on Ingrid’s face grew even deeper as she noticed the way Atlas’ eyes kept darting around, as if she were afraid of being followed or caught.

“Is there anything you want? Goodness, what happened to your face?” Ingrid questioned as she reached her hand out to Atlas but Atlas had pulled back away from her since she was scared of being near anyone. Ingrid raised her hands and knew that the young woman was actually feeling scared and in panic.

Ingrid could see the fear in Atlas’ eyes which were bewildered as if she was in flight and fight mode at the same time against a predator, as Ingrid instinctively pulled away from her offering hand. The frightened and unknown young woman was clearly traumatized and in a state of panic, and the old woman’s heart went out to her because of the way she looked and how he looked. She understood all too well the fear that can take over someone who has gone through hardship and trauma, and so she kept her distance, keeping her hands raised in a gesture of peace.

“I am sorry. Did I scare you? I am sorry. I am so sorry my dear. I did not mean to scare you. You just look so distressed and lost.” Ingrid explained as she tried to make her voice calmer. “Are you alright? Do you want anything to drink? Something cold? It seemed to be a hot afternoon outside. You appear to be new in town.”

Atlas was scared, and on the edge, Ingrid could see it as the young woman was still silent. So Ingrid continued to say, “My name is Ingrid Jonah. I own the whole convenience store, do you need something to eat?”

Atlas, unsure of what to say and act, her stomach growled loudly and Ingrid heard it clearly. She was still shaking and on edge, felt conflicted. On the one hand, she was starving and could use the food, but on the other hand, she was wary of anyone offering her anything, fearful that it could be a trap as she thought that anything she would do will only let her tormentor know where she was. However, something in Ingrid’s kind and motherly tone made her feel a little bit safer, yet Atlas was still so unsure. She hesitantly nodded her head, her eyes never leaving Ingrid’s face, and managed to whisper, “Yes, I am so hungry. I do not have any money though.” Her voice was soft and shy.

Ingrid smiled gently at Atlas’ admission, her kind eyes softening with empathy. Ingrid’s motherly instinct kicked in and she knew that the young woman was lost at the moment, in the small town and in her own personal life. Ingrid knew that the young woman was going through something so horrible because of the way she looked. “Do not worry, dear. You can have some food without paying. I can see that you are going through a tough time, and food is the least that I can do to help. Please, come with me.” She placed a comforting hand on Atlas’ arm, hoping to offer a gesture of support and trust.

Ingrid then helped Atlas towards the back part of the convenience store which had a small kitchen area and eating area. It was not a big place, but it smelled amazing there while Ingrid allowed her to take a seat in the dining area which Atlas obliged politely and silently. The smell of warm bread that was just baked, a hearty soup in that cooking pot on the stove, and other small home-cooked dishes wafted through the air, making her mouth water.

“I cooked dinner for my husband in advance before I got home.” Ingrid smiled sweetly while preparing a dish of everything for Atlas whose eyes widened with eagerness to eat, as soon as she saw the plate.

As soon as Ingrid laid the steaming hot plate of food on the table, Atlas pounced on it like a starving animal. The sight of the homemade bread, creamy mushroom soup and juicy, savory meatballs with tomato sauce and veggies sent her taste buds into total overdrive, and she attacked the meal with abandon. She tore into the juicy mouthfuls like a woman who had not eaten in years, savoring every bite with pure relish and gratitude.

Watching Atlas devour the food, Ingrid’s heart both ached and softened at the sight of the young woman looking so lost and obviously went through in pain. The sight of the young woman wolfing down her meal greedily suggested that she had not had a proper meal in days, perhaps even longer. As a mother herself, Ingrid’s heart was broken.

Questions raced through the old woman’s mind, and her concern for her guest deepened. Where did Atlas come from? What had she been through? How long had it been since she had a hot meal or a safe place to rest?

“What is your name?” Ingrid questioned softly and calmly, while putting the glass of cold water down in front of Atlas who was now slowly eating her food.

Atlas softly answered, “Atlas.” Her answer was honest, since Ingrid had shown her warmth and welcomed her despite how she looked. At least, Atlas knew that she needed to be honest as well about what Ingrid did for her without even asking anything and without even lying at all or pretending to be someone else. “My name is Atlas.”

“Atlas.” Ingrid chimed and smiled happily and widely. “What a lovely name you have. Does that mean anything?”

Atlas sighed and wiped her lips with the back of her hand as she answered, “My mother told me it was something related with Greek. I just think it has been a name used metaphorically to describe a person who is bearing a tremendous burden or responsibility, or someone who possesses strength and resilience in the face of adversity.” Atlas lowered her head and muttered, “I do not think that I possess any strength or f*****g resilience.” She gasped and pulled her head up as she quickly told her, “I am sorry for cussing.”

Ingrid chuckled softly under her breath, “Oh do not apologize for cursing. It is totally fine. And honestly, I think the name suits you. You do possess strength and f*****g resilience.” She tried to say the exact same thing that Atlas did to make her laugh and they both did, but Atlas’ smile was rather far more faint than Ingrid’s. “You are here now, so you are strong since you were able to leave something that caused you harm.” She slowly placed her hand over Atlas and right away Atlas’ tears swelled over her cheeks.

“It is okay.” Ingrid’s motherly instinct kicked in as she hugged Atlas who right away cried on her shoulder. She rubbed Atlas’ back with her wrinkly hand. “It is okay, you are safe here. It is fine. Just cry and then eat after.”

As Ingrid hugged Atlas and whispered words of comfort, the dam holding back her emotions broke. Her tears came in waves, streaming down her cheeks more and more, and onto Ingrid’s shoulder. The old woman held her tightly, soothingly rubbing her back and repeating her reassurances like a mantra. The act of crying felt like a catharsis, a release of all the pain and torment she had experienced over the past years now on her own. The kindness and understanding that Ingrid showed her was a revelation for Atlas, and she felt a sense of safety and comfort in the old woman’s embrace that she had not felt in a long time. Atlas felt like she had kept everything for so long that it was overflowing right now, that she felt like Ingrid was a mother figure right now.

“Okay, eat, eat.” Ingrid pulled away from the hug and wiped Atlas’ tears as she winced as soon as Ingrid had hit the bruised Atlas’ black eye. “I am sorry I hit that part. Eat. Please, you need strength.” She smiled at Atlas.

Ingrid, with her warm and caring temperament, was a natural mother figure to Atlas, even though she had only just met her today. As Ingrid comforted and consoled the young woman who was sobbing on her shoulder, she felt a deep sense of empathy for her plight. Her heart went out to this young soul who was hurting so deeply even without saying it, Ingrid knew she was hurt mentally, physically and emotionally, and she vowed to give her all the support and care that she could provide. Ingrid felt that it was her duty to act as a pillar of strength and love for the young woman who had arrived at her doorstep, battered and bruised from whatever horrors she had experienced.

That evening, Maurice stared at his wife Ingrid and then at the young woman next to Ingrid, who looked beaten up and lost with her pixie cut as she stared over her feet before travelling her head back to Maurice. He sighed through his parted lips and muttered, “You do know that our home is not an orphanage nor an Airbnb.”

Ingrid smacked her husband on his stomach, “Stop it.”

Maurice smiled at the young woman with a pixie cut, “Welcome to our humble home. My name is Maurice.”

“This is Atlas.” Ingrid gestured, “She used to work as an oncology nurse in the city, and she is here to… well, find herself.” She smiled, and her eyes told her husband that the young lady was going through something and Maurice knew right away because of Atlas’ black eye.