by J. D Reo
“You live in a storage locker?” Shepard asks as he steps into what is essentially my house.
Well not anymore since I had only paid up for three months in advance several months ago, at this point any day now management will lock me out.
“I did.” I say pulling the duffel bag out from where I have it hanging on the back wall.
“You can’t exactly rent a place when you can’t even get a job.” I tell him.
Still refusing to look at him I start to pack only what I can carry. Some clothes, the few power bars I have stored away. My single burner stove and a small pot. You never know when you will have to cook at a public park.
Next, I move on to toiletries. I pack only tampons, my toothbrush, a bar of soap and a roll of toilet paper, because everything else is a want not a need.
“Why can’t you get a job.” His tone is genuinely curious if not just a tiny bit insulting, like he thinks I’m just being lazy.
My temper peaks as I think about how to respond to the douche bag and also try to remember where the fuck, I hid my mom’s book. That’s the only ‘want’ that I will always classify as a ‘need’.
“Because Shepard’” I begin.
“When you grow up in the slums the words C.P.S and group home are the worst words you can hear. Because kids in the slums get taken by C.P.S and get wiped from the records and sold. So, when I called an ambulance for my parents after someone broke in and slaughtered them, searching for the tiniest amount of cash to catch their next high. I didn’t think. My brain didn’t process anything other than my parents faces pale and lifeless.” I pause for a brief second when I find my mom’s massive ornate diary hidden and still locked in the trunk in the corner.
My fingers trace over the wood emblem on the cover and I let all the times I watched her sit and write in it flash through my head.
Tucking it into the duffle gently I turn to Shepard and watch him watch me. His dark eyes swimming with emotion.
“My head didn’t turn back on until the officer talking by my front door mentioned to his buddy that C.P.S was on the way. I pretended I was heading to my room to pack. I did pack, I packed a backpack of clothes and my mother’s book and climbed out the fire escape. I was eleven. I spent years on the streets. I never stayed in one place for long, I stole whatever I had to, to get by. I ran a lot and constantly slept with one eye open most nights. I studied what I could in public libraries and showered at rec centers or washed up in public sinks. I did what I could to survive.” My eyes water again as his flint gaze looks deep inside my bared soul. I’m not going to turn away. This is my story, and I can’t change it. It’s who I am.
“The thing is you can’t get a state I.D without a home address. You can’t get a job without an I.D. Hell; I couldn’t even take the G.E.D test without an I.D or a phone. Jobs also want you to have a phone number and a home. Neither of which you can get without money. It’s an endless circle you can’t escape from once you have fallen in. But I’m here, I’m alive and I fight every day. So, I won’t let you look down on me for where I live. Just go home Shepard, we're burning daylight and I’m sure the S.T.F is keeping an eye on this place. I have to find a new place before dark and you’re slowing me down.” Hefting the heavy duffle bag onto my shoulder I move passed Shepard and walk away.
I wish that I could say when I reach the main entrance to the storage units, I’m relieved to not hear the beat of his heart following behind me. But instead, something deep inside me feels like it’s cracking.
It been over a month, and I have slipped back into my routine like a really ugly but perfectly fitting glove.
Today is the town fair in this little podunk town I find myself blowing through. For families and kids, it means rides, cotton candy and winning stuffed animals. For me it’s a Fate given gold mine.
I never steal from those who can’t obviously afford it though. today my best bet will be to get my hands on some credit cards because most people here won’t notice it’s gone until the end of the day. Not to mention that it won’t even cost them anything but the headache of reporting it stolen and getting the card replaced.
This is something I’ve been doing for a decade and a half. It’s second nature to me now.
After pushing myself through tight crowds the small bag at my hip is filled with my treasure and I make a hasty retreat to the park near by to see what the fates blessed me with today.
As soon as I get to the deserted picnic tables I upend my bag on the closest table and pluck my new prepaid phone out of the pile and slide it into my back pocket so I can’t forget it.
I search every billfold and wallet completely emptying out all the cash and cards that have their pin number scribbled on the back.
It’s absolutely ridiculous how many people write their pin numbers on their cards, it’s most people, most people just leave their pin number for me in plain sight on the back of their cards. It’s like their saying, ‘here Sam dinners on me tonight.’.
When I’m done, I tuck the wad of cash, almost five hundred dollars, away into my bag once more. I put the small stack of payment cards into my empty back pocket and dump all the unneeded wallets into the trash can nearby and cover them with some of the cleaner trash that was already in there. I need to move quick to an atm before someone reports their card missing.
****************************************************
Stepping off the bus I look around at my new temporary town. I’m like a ghost, moving from town to town haunting every place I move through, disrupting lives just enough to be an inconvenience then moving on.
I take just a second to get my bearings before turning in the direction the bus had come into town from and start to my way to the small rundown hotel, we passed coming in.
The sign said they take cash for a room and though the place looks about forty years out of date I need a shower.
Up above me a raven calls out, bringing my eyes to him. I swear it’s the same raven I’ve been seeing all month. I know that’s impossible; I’ve crossed states in the last month. But still no matter where I go a raven, this raven in fact seems to follow.
Maybe it’s because I fed it some of my fries when it first landed next to me a while ago. I remember reading somewhere that ravens get emotionally attached to people who treat them well, maybe I have a new friend for a while. That would be nice.
Thirty minutes later I enter my room and lock it behind me. Moving to the bed, I drop my shoulder bag and duffle on the foot of it along with the honest to fates actual key they gave me for my room.
It’s been a while since I’ve been to a hotel still using keys instead of cards, but it makes me oddly nostalgic and happy.
First, I pull out my phone charger and plug in my phone to charge on the bedside table, I make sure to power it on before grabbing my stuff and heading to the bathroom to get cleaned up.
The hot water only lasted about fifteen minutes but I’m never one to complain about an actual shower. First thing I do when I get back to the room is turn the t.v on to some mindless sitcom and grab my phone to search up a pizza place nearby since I actually have some money and free Wi-Fi for the time being.
Unlocking my phone my smile lights up at my notifications. It seems Every time I look at this damn thing, I have a message from Ogden on social media.
He added me three hours after I made an account, I was so happy to see his face in his profile picture that I don’t even care that it’s kind of creepy as fuck. I know he is a hacker so he must have been watching out for my name somehow online and I’m honestly more flattered than freaked.
As quick as I can I find a pizza place online and call and place my order for delivery before opening Ogden’s messages.
Ogden Rivers: Let me buy you dinner tonight. I can get you Chinese food and have it delivered somewhere. I want to Sam; you know it sounds good.
The symbol to the corner changes to mark that I’ve read it.
I type back several responses and delete them. Sett
ling on letting him know that I ordered pizza already, before flopping down on the bed. Rolling to my side I get comfy and hit the video chat icon in the top right corner. I really miss his face.
Just when I think the call is going to ring out and he isn’t going to answer his face lights up the screen and my heart pounds, staring into those incredible forest green eyes.
“Well, hello beautiful.” He says with an honest to fates genuine smile. I swear his blush spreads before mine and I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make my stomach do a back flip.
“Hey handsome.” I reply and smile back.
I’ve come to realize with the constant flirting, that Ogden most definitely isn't gay. I’m not exactly sure what his sexuality is, but I don’t need to put a name to it. So long as it includes me, I’m ecstatic. Though flirting doesn’t necessarily mean he’s interested in me, I guess. But I really hope he is.
“I missed your face.” I tell him. “How was your day?”
He rolls onto his side, his pillow tucked under his head, and his body mirroring mine.
“It was good. I spent the morning shifted, had a run and shut off my brain for a while. Callum is still out of town for work, and I’m still on the cyber hunt for Shepard’s mom. So, I have been a bit lonely but not bad.” He runs a hand down his face and yawns, giving me a show of his entire mouth.
“I want to help him so bad, but he can be such a pain in the ass when he’s all frustrated.” He explains.
“But he’s a sexy pain in your ass.” I tell him with an accusatory smirk, making him roll his eyes and blush again. Even he knows he wears his feeling on his face for the world to see.
I pull myself to my feet, phone and cash in hand when there’s a knock at the door.
I continue on with the conversation as I walk to the door.
“He will chill out soon I’m sure.”
Ogden waits for me to finish with the pizza guy and get situated before he resumes the conversation.
“I’m not sure Shepard knows what chill is, even on his best days.” He tells me.
“But enough about us. How was your day gorgeous?” He asks.
I snort a laugh because my curls are still dripping water, I’m wearing a band tee from goodwill, and plain panties while stuffing my face with pizza. Not that he can see the panties on screen but still I’m a hot mess right now, and still, he calls me gorgeous.
“It was a good day. I got enough cash for a good while; I have a roof over my head and bacon on my pizza. I wish you could come hang out though.” I tell him as my smile turns down into a dramatic puppy dog pout.
“I’ll work on talking Shepard into it this week. I wish I could talk him into bringing you back here. I know you can handle yourself out there, but I’d feel better if you were here.” He gives me a sad smile back.
“But Shep thinks it will hold up progress on finding his mom.” He shrugs but we both know Shepard is right, I would distract him. It might be selfish of him sure, but if it was my mother, I’d burn the world down to get to her.
“I’m good Ogden, I don’t want to force myself into his life when I’m clearly not wanted. And more than that I don’t.t want to get in the way of him finding her.” I explain.
“I want you here and it’s my home too.” He growls, his eyes lighting up just a bit. The beast inside him showing through. It’s hot as fuck if I’m being totally honest.
“So, work extra hard then, find his mom, butter him up.” I smile and close the pizza box before moving it to the desk in the corner.
"Also make sure to pop your dimple when you ask him to come get me and there's no way, he will be able to say no." I say with a laugh.
Tucking myself into bed I maneuver the phone so it can be plugged in and sit on the table and face me while I lay down.
“Can you keep talking until one of us falls asleep?” I ask.
“Anytime gorgeous.” He promises making my heart swell at the sincerity in his eyes.
That night I dream of green-eyed wolves and the feeling of home.
Lately I’ve been feeling nostalgic and alone. I tried everything to squash these feelings, but their impossible to shake.
I’ve started reading some of my favorite’s books on my phone, I went swimming, I worked out at the local rec center.
Over the last month I’ve tried hopping towns more often, and even staying put for longer, but nothing has curbed these feelings so far.
I even spent three days doing odd jobs for people that I found online thinking maybe a job would help me feel a sense of self-worth, all to no avail.
Two days ago, it got so bad I dammed near almost busted off the lock on my mother’s journal just to read things that have passed through her mind. I just wanted to feel close to her again. Just for a second.
I didn’t read them though of course. I promised my mom I would never read her diary. It was her safe place with her private thoughts. That’s something I’ll honor even if she’s not around to enforce it. But I had to do something to curb these feelings. So, one thing led to and next thing I know, here I am.
“This will help, it will be good for me.” I say to myself like it will help with the nerves. I can’t say my fluttering stomach agrees with me all that much though.
My raven friend lands on the stoop in front of me stealing my attention. His eyes follow the man walking as he passes by me, like he is looking for threats in the old drunk. Little does he know everything in a neighborhood like this is a threat. But when you grow up around constant threats you become a threat yourself and grow used to the danger around you.
Eventually, the man rounds the block, and the raven turns back and caws in my direction before looking back at the building with what I can only assume is unease.
How can a bird be so judgmental?
“You live outside and were born in a bundle of sticks and mud. Who are you to judge my childhood home?” I snipe at the bird and glare at him as I move up the familiar stoop.
Yes, I'm arguing with a bird. He may have become my friend, but he can really be a dick sometimes I swear.
This place is condemned now, and honestly looks like it has been empty since I lived here. It’s two stories tall but not very wide. The windows are boarded over and the faded neon signs on the door try their best to convince me to turn around.
I never have been the best at following rules though. Why start now?
The door is locked, or at least rusted enough to pass for locked. Still, I turn the handle with all my might and ram the door with my shoulder and hip. Three good strikes are all it takes before I’m stumbling in almost face first.
Luckily, I manage to catch me self before I become one with the rotted-out floor and the creatures that no doubt dwell with in them. Tapping into my low magic I take a moment to heal away the on-coming bruises and mentally curse myself for not finding away to fill my reserves. I leave the door open for a bit of added light as I move in. The place has been absolutely ransacked and has definitely had squatters at one point. It’s disappointing for sure but not surprising in the least.
The fireplace now holds the burnt remnants of the small table that used to sit by our ugly pea colored sofa and hold the remotes and my dad’s gear head magazine. The sofa itself has somehow lost all its cushions and has been absolutely destroyed, saturated in pissed and shoved back.
Coming to the stairs just beside the gutted kitchen that is so destroyed its absolutely unrecognizable I pause and peer up them into the dark. This house technically has three bedrooms. Two upstairs and one down here. The one down here was supposed to be the master but my parents thought it would be safer if they were tucked away upstairs with me. That way if there was ever an intruder breaking in, they could hear it in plenty of time and get us to safety.
“How’d that work out for you guys?” I mumble as I turn around.
I’m not going up there, I can’t. I can’t visit the place where I saw them last. All that will do for me is trigger some shit and I’ll spend months if not y
ears having to deal with, no thank you.
Pulling my phone from my pocket I turn on the flashlight and move to the opposite side of the living room that used to house my Christmases and family nights but now is the home to discarded needles and what I’m pretty sure is a massive pile of human shit in the corner.
The bedroom down here started as my playroom when I was really small. I didn’t have a ton of toys, but between my parents and I we used to spend hours using our imaginations to turn that room into anything I could dream up. As the years passed by and I grew up my dad added a desk for himself in one corner and my mom added craft stuff and knick knacks in another.
Eventually it just became the room we went to when we needed to do something by ourselves. But still, I don’t have anything of my dad’s, maybe if I'm lucky I can find something salvageable in there.
