this is not that Hansel and Gretel

Theirs was neither an uncommon nor a happy beginning. Irish twins, Hansel and Gretel were born addicted to the crack their mother ingested while pregnant. Their first few months of life were, fortunately, a blur to them, since the theme was constant pain. Sadly, this did not end upon leaving the hospital, since the courts endeavored to keep families together, they kept themselves willfully ignorant of the disinterested dealer who was their father and the “I’ve got myself together this time, I’m gonna take care of my babies” mother who always ended up selling her soul for another hit.

Until her soul was in tatters and she sold her children.

The last time they returned from foster care, she managed to work a whole month at the job the state had helped her find. Her boss was a tyrant and seemed intent on making her life miserable. He was not a fan of the rehabilitation job program. He felt, once an addict, always an addict and he wanted no part of them. He criticized every thing she did, Stood over her while she did the most menial tasks which made her nervous and mistake prone even though she could do anything he asked with her eyes closed. She graduated from Saint Catherine’s first in her class and made it through three years of college as a physics major. I’m not stupid she told herself repeatedly as she tried to ignore him and concentrate on doing and keeping her job.

There was an onsite day care for the children where they fed them breakfast and lunch. She only had to worry about dinner. The first week she tried her hand at making dinner. Fried chicken like her grandma used to make. Meatloaf. Fried whiting. Beef stew that lasted two days so she didn’t have to worry about cooking on Friday night. She burned a lot, but they didn't starve.

Saturday, she took them food shopping and bought more ground beef, powdered onion soup, stew beef, potatoes, carrots, bread, peanut butter and jelly as well as some cans of tuna. They had hot dogs from the food truck outside the supermarket as a special treat. She took them to the park and watched them play from a bench.

“So you got them back again?”

“Forever, this time. They’re my babies. Our babies, Jerome.”

“Not my problem. Listen, I got some good stuff. You working now, I hear. You buyin’?”

“Jerome, you need to leave me alone. If you’re not gonna help me raise them right, you need to go. I can’t anymore. They’ll take them away for good this time if I mess up again.”

“Don’t you think they’d be better off without a crackhead for a mother?”

“I’m not doing any more, Jerome. They need me. Please leave.”

“You keep singing that song, baby. I’ll be here when you ready.”

The conversation with Jerome drained her so she bought happy meals for the children on the way home.

Sunday, she asked the children what they wanted for breakfast. They’d developed a love of pancakes at their last foster home and so said in unison, “Pancakes, please!”

Lina was a mediocre cook when she knew what she was doing. Pancakes were not her thing. She tried. As she scraped the black disks onto plates. She burst into tears.

“Don’t cry, Mommy. We like them crispy,” said Hansel.

“Can I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead, Mommy?” asked Gretel quietly.

Lina ran out of the room. Hansel threw the pancakes in the garbage and made them both sandwiches.

After they’d eaten, they went to find their mother. She was crying on the bed.

“Mommy, don’t cry. “

“I can’t even make pancakes right,” she wailed.

“We don’t need pancakes, Mommy.”

She dried her tears, hugged her babies and prayed to stay strong.

Monday, her boss screamed at her in front of her children.

“You’re late, Ms. Littleton. We frown upon tardiness here.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Charles. The bus broke down and we had to wait for another to come.”

“No excuses. Don’t linger at daycare. I expect you to be at your desk in two minutes.”

“Yes, Mr. Charles.”

She made hot dogs for dinner. By Friday, it was peanut butter and jelly by Hansel.

Saturday, she did the food shopping: bread, milk, peanut butter, jelly, tuna, hot dogs.

Jerome showed up at the park and she gave him half her pay.

Hansel made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on Sunday.

She was able to get through another week and get another check. She skipped the tuna this week and gave Jerome a little bit more of her check.

After the fourth week, she woke up Sunday in one of Jerome’s flop houses, shaking. She went looking for him.

“I’ll give you my whole check, I just need a little more.”

“You gave me your whole check yesterday when you showed up, kids in tow. You don’t have anything else I want, Lina. Go home.”

“Please, Jerome, just a little something to tide me over till I get paid again.”

“Baby, I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but no one’s gonna be paying you to do nothing.”

“I have a job!”

“And you going there feeling like you are right now? You look like shit. Tomorrow will only be worse.”

Lina started crying.

“Stop your bawling. Tell you what. I can help you and get those kids off your hands so you don’t have to worry any more. You can’t take care of them. You can’t even take care of yourself. I know someone who will buy them off you. Take real good care of them.”

Lina knew it was wrong somewhere in the depths of her crack-hazed brain, but it was too much to recall why.

“How much do you think I can get for them?” she asked, eyes half-closed, hands trembling.

“Go see Miss Abby. She’ll take care of you. When you get the money, you can come see me. I got what you need.”

“Miss Abby? No one goes near her house. She’s cray-cray.”

“Up to you. I’m outta here.”

“But…”

“Get off me,” he said, throwing her off his arm. “Your best bet is to see Miss Abby. Then come back. I’ll hook you up real good.”

Jerome left. Lina sat crying and shivering on the floor.

“Mama? Can we come out now?”

Part of her was mortified she’d brought her children to a dirty, run down house and hid them in a closet so they wouldn’t watch her lose herself. The other part was glad she’d not left them home alone. And that she had kept them from watching what went on in the house.

Lina wiped her eyes and stood up. “Yes, baby. C’mon. We have somewhere to be.”

Miss Abby lived in a house on edge of town. It was the oldest house in town but it was in perfect condition. Everyone considered it a bit of an eyesore since it was painted the colors of the rainbow. Every few years she would hire a bunch of teenagers to paint it their favorite colors. Presently it was purple, yellow, green, orange, red, blue and fuchsia. There was always fuchsia. That was Miss Abby's favorite color.

Little children stayed far away. Unless dared. For as long as Lina could remember, no one under 16 ever went to her house without being dared first. Everyone said she was a witch that ate little children.

That was just ridiculous, of course. No one eats children.

Not finding a bell, she knocked on the door. Loud footsteps approached. A heavily made up face peeked through the curtain then opened the door. Lina, Hansel and Gretel all looked up, mouths gaping. It was the tallest woman they had ever seen.

“Now who do we have here?”

“Um, hello, Miss Abby. My, uh, friend, Jerome..."

“Say no more. Are these beautiful creatures yours?”

“Yes, ma’am. This is Hansel. He’s 5. This is Gretel. She’s 4. Say hello to Miss Abby children.”

“Hello Miss Abby,” they said in unison. Eyes huge in their small, hungry faces.

“And so polite, too. They’ll do just fine. I was just hankering for some little ones recently,” she said, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Run to the kitchen children, it’s straight ahead down the hall. There are some cookies on the table. I just baked them. I’ll get you some milk when I get there.”

The children’s empty stomachs answered. Taking each other’s hands, they ran without looking back.

She reached behind the door. Lina could hear a drawer open and close. Miss Abby came back with money in her hand.

“Here’s $1000. Don’t return. You won’t be welcome.” Miss Abby closed the door in Lina’s face. But Lina didn’t notice. Stunned by her sudden wealth, she was already hastening back to Jerome and oblivion.

The garbage collectors found her a few days later in the alley behind her building, tossed between the trash cans. The Coroner’s report said her last hit was tainted with a deadly dose of fentanyl.

Meanwhile, Miss Abby was like the grandmother Hansel and Gretel never had.

After Lina left, Miss Abby made her way to the kitchen. Hansel and Gretel were each eating one cookie, slowly, trying to make it last. As Miss Abby got a couple of jelly jars from the cabinet, she said, “Don’t be shy, children. Go ahead and gobble them up. I know you want to.”

They looked at her then at each other then at the plate of cookies.

“Go on. We can make some more after lunch. Would you like tuna sandwiches or peanut butter and jelly?”

“Peanut butter and jelly, please,” said Gretel.

“Me, too. Please,” said Hansel. “I know how to make them. I make them for Gretel and me all the time.”

“Here’s your milk,” she said, placing the glasses in front of them. “Peanut butter and jelly is my favorite, too. “I’m partial to sweet things,” she said, smiling at Hansel.

She gave them a room to share with clean sheets. And in the closet were clothes that, oddly enough, fit perfectly.

For a month, she fed them, bathed them, told them stories. She taught Gretel how to bake cookies and cakes that Hansel in particular loved. She taught Hansel to wash the dishes and stoke the fire in the old-fashioned wood oven in her kitchen.

No, not big enough for a small boy or a big witch. This isn’t that Hansel and Gretel.

More’s the pity.

"I have a surprise for you two today!"

On their one month anniversary, Grandma Abby, for that is what Miss Abby asked them to call her, led them upstairs. She opened the door to a room they'd never entered before.

"This is Hansel's new room." It was a little boy’s dream with lots of toy cars and trucks, an erector set, as well as some stuffed animals and books about little boys on grand adventures. There was a slide, and a train set, too. Hansel ran straight to the books.

"Will you read to us, Grandma Abby? I can't read very well yet although when Mommy was well, she was teaching me…that was a long time ago though."

"Is Mommy coming back, Grandma Abby?"

"No, my dear."

"Will you take care of us?"

"It is my great pleasure to do so. Come give Grandma Abby a hug." Both children ran into her arms. She held them close, burying her nose in Hansel's neck and sighing.

"Come along. We mustn't leave Gretel out of the fun."

She led them up another set of stairs to the attic. She opened the door and it was the perfect room for a little girl. Pink and white with a frilly canopied bed. Princess costumes in a toy chest, baby dolls, a play house, a small table with chairs set up for tea, and myriad books about princesses that lived happily ever after. It lacked only windows.

And it locked from the outside.

That night, the door to Hansel's room slowly opened. The light from the hallway shone upon his face. He looked like an angel. Grandma Abby closed the door and approached the bed.

"Hansel?" she whispered, caressing his arm gently.

"Grandma Abby?"

"Yes, baby."

"Is Gretel okay?"

"Gretel is fine." She sat down. "You like it here, right baby."

"Yes." Suddenly wide awake, Hansel sat up. "Are they coming to take us away? We don't have to go, do we?"

"No, of course not, baby. You belong to me now." She took his hand. "Grandma Abby needs you to do something. It will be our secret. You can't tell Gretel."

"We tell each other everything."

"If you tell, I will have to make you both leave."

"Please don't make us go, Grandma Abby."

"There, there now, don't worry. Grandma Abby is going to take good care of you. Promise you won't tell?"

"I promise," Hansel quickly agreed.

"Good boy," said Grandma Abby, kissing him on the forehead and standing. Pulling the sash on her robe, it opened.

"Grandma Abby?” Hansel looked confused. “You're a Grandpa?"

"Hush, sugar. Grandma Abby is gonna take good care of you."