And it’s here, surrounded by strangers and structures I’ve never seen—
It’s then I realize thatthisplace is where people like me end up.
When you have nowhere to go, this is the only kind of place that can take you. A soup kitchen to give me lunch, with the volunteeronly nodding and asking me to sign my name when I told her I didn’t have any valid I.D. with me. She hands me a tray after—it has a bowl of soup, a roll, and boiled eggs. It might not be much to most, but to me, it’s a feast, and I wolf everything down as soon as I get to a vacant table.
I think it was last night when I last ate. A cereal bar from the vendo. And then nothing.
I’ve been doing my best to pretend I’m not starving since then, and that’s why all of this right now—the soup, the bread, the eggs—it all tastes heavenly.
Next to the soup kitchen is a community library that offers several computer stations. They’re outdated but functional, and that’s all I need. I update my resumé and start looking for online job listings I can apply for. I do this nonstop until my eyes start to drop, and it’s only when I glance outside the window that I realize it’s already evening.
I leave the library and start walking again. I’m not sure what I’m looking for. I just know I’ll know once I see it, and eventually, I do see it: a halfway house for the homeless, the orphaned, and the troubled. I give my name to reception, they create an account after asking me some questions, and then they give me a room number. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that they’re giving me a bed for the night, in a room that I end up sharing with three other girls.
“One last thing—” the one in charge of registration says. “Are you sure you don’t have any pre-existing medical conditions we know about?’
The only condition I can think of is the one my husband gave me.
Sign the papers...if I don’t want to make things harder.
But other than that?
I shake my head. “None.”
“Any addictions?”
Does being stupid and blind count? I’m almost tempted to ask this, but since that might have them thinking I’m insane and I end up losing a place to sleep—
I shake my head.
“None.”
And with that, I’m free to go to Room 14, and I nearly weep tears of joy when I see that my upper bunk comes with its own charging station. I plug my phone, and after a few moments, its screen lights up—
And I start to try.
Because there’s no one calling or texting me.
There’s no one who cares enough to ask where I am or how I am.
I'm alone in this world, and it might be so for the rest of my life.
Chapter Eight
I'M SCRUBBING THE TOILETbowl in 3C when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
It's a quarter to eleven on the night shift. I've been at it since ten-thirty. My knees on the bathroom tile, my hands in a pair of latex gloves that don't quite fit. Two days the unit's been empty because the last guest left it in a state. The shower needs a second pass. The sheets I already bagged. The smell of bleach is making my eyes water and I can't decide if I should keep going or step out for a minute. I keep going.
The phone buzzes again.
I already know who it is before I take it out, and I can already feel my body stiffening, bracing itself for what I'm about to read.
Mrs. Pettyfer, my client has been more than patient. The longer you delay, the more this will cost you. We have witnesses. We have evidence. We can drag this through court for a year and bury you in legal fees you cannot afford. Your attorney, if you've found one, will tell you the same thing. Sign the papers. Stop wasting everyone's time.
I hitDeleteand force myself to get back to work.
That text is one of the many other texts his lawyer has been sending me. I still have no idea what to say. All I know is that I just can't sign my name on a lie.
How did we end up like this, Sandy?