A Pure Light

The earthquake has probably been the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

People liked to say that anything before a certain point in a kid's life was more or less inconsequential because they tended to have infantile amnesia, and anything bad that happened would eventually fade into the white noise of their subconsciousness and they wouldn't be affected by it at all.

Though, it was more accurate to say that they wouldn't remember the details of the event. What he would remember was the feeling of the Earth rearing and shaking like a monster that has slumbered for a long time being awakened from its rest and roar, the way the very sky seemed to shake and turn a sickly gray-blue-green. He would remember the sound of crumbling buildings trapping people and screams of agony, he'd remember the ugly, loud sound of a trees snapping almost cleanly in two. He would remember getting separated from his mama and papa as all their neighbors surged to evacuate, and he would remember the sound of the bridge supports snapping, like a camera taking a picture.

He would remember the warmth of his mother's hand, and icy coldness he felt moments later.

After that, Thierry had the distinct feeling that he was all alone.

The survivors had empathy for him. They took him in, shared their scraps. They were less open-minded than his own parents, so they didn't dress him like a boy, and gave him dresses that were itchy and shoes made of plastic. He stayed inside most of the day and had to cook and clean as well as he was able, knowing that water was more valuable than money at that moment in time.

He lived that was for three years, day in and day out.

It was with much dread and excitement that he returned to his home. There had been rebuilding efforts since then, but there were many still homeless, many still without access to clean water and to school. His house had been shaken by the earthquake and weathered by rain and wind.

It had taken him a few tries to get a fire going. He set places on the floor for himself and his parents and spooned himself what was basically just an amalgamation of vaguely edible things he'd managed to collect.

Thierry lived in his old home for about a month before it gave a horrifying wheeze and tipped like a house of cards.

Next thing he knew, he was surrounded in bright warm light that smelled like his mom.

So disoriented and confused, when arms were wrapped around him and cradled close, despite the voice sounding nothing like his mother, he found himself whispering--"Mama?"

Thierry didn't really understand what Helen was telling him very well. Being hungry, scared, and almost dying weren't exactly the ideal circumstances to be thrown a ton of life altering information. From what the angel had told him, though, he could piece together the fact that his Mama and Papa weren't coming back because they "passed", and that she was offering him a place of safety and warmth with other people like him.

The Haitian boy was hesitant to leave. What if his mom and dad came back? She'd said they'd passed, but they could always come back. Though, judging by the message the angel told him, maybe they passed the house and didn't want to come back. Had they left him all alone? When would they come back? They would come back soon right? Right?

With the thought of his parents electing to leave him, tears bubbled up in his eyes, but he forced himself to not cry. Remember what you went through to get that water, he thought. Don't waste them on tears.

A kiss on the forehead, and Thierry felt better, his mind cleared, his throat stopped being parched, and his body got heavier in Helen's grip. With his mind registering that there had been some kind of sustenance, he could think a little more clearly.

His heart felt heavy.

"What do you want with me?"

Thierry let himself be touched by the woman, let her stroke his hair as he realized he was dirty. He couldn't expend water on washing or anything like that if he couldn't drink it afterwards. The answer she gave to his question only confused him more. She wanted to be allowed to care for him? What was that supposed to mean? Thinking a little, he assumed she meant something like a caretaker, like the lady down the street who let him practice his letters in the dirt outside her house.

Something like that. But he didn't know where this angel had come from, or where her house was. He'd never seen her before in his life. was she one of those foreigners his Dad used to talk about, and point out on the streets behind his hands. Was she going to take him away from his house, from the city, from the island?

Was he going to be stolen?

Her speech about the virtue of kindness fell on unattentive ears as he wondered what he could do if this lady took him away from his home. What if someone came looking for him, how would they be able to find him? He had to look out for the people, like his mama and papa told him to. They were the ones in charge of this place, in charge of praying to the Loa, making the connection for everyone.

That was his job now.

"My name is... Thierry. Thierry.... Papein..."

He stammered a little, tried to get his bearings. He didn't want to go, not with this admittedly strange looking but nice lady, not if it meant leaving everything and everyone.

"I.... uhm.... what is your name?"

Thierry watched, started to get confused when she talked about bearers and things like that, but then she seemed to fade away, and he was worried that somehow him not believing her story caused this to happen. Her whole body changed into one that was easier for him to understand.

She was definitely easier to look at now.

When she asked about how she could make him trust her, he squirmed a little. He didn't know. She was a stranger, and he was always told not to trust strangers.

"W.... w...." he started. "Will you.... tell me if Vodun is bad?"

He'd heard a lot of people who came here said that vodun was evil, or creepy.... but if this lady was trustworthy and nice, then she wouldn't say those kinds of things.

The child listened to this strange woman's words and nodded. She didn't think that it was evil or creepy, and though it was just another part of him, another way to speak to the forces of good in the universe. If she thought that way, then there was no way that should could mean or bad or evil. That was how his logic worked, and he would not accept any other explanation.

Only mean people would call another person's religion evil.

When she mentioned his clothes, he looked down. That's right. The woman who had taken him in told him that he had to dress like a girl, because he was a girl.

Except he wasn't. He'd never felt comfortable or right wearing the clothes the girls wore, or calling himself "Judeline" as his parents had named him when he was born.

"No," he said. "I hate these clothes."

He fidgeted. "I wanna wear pants and shirts and sneakers... and be a boy."