Her Secret Life

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “I don’t . . . I don’t have another method of payment.”

  “Hmm . . .”

  “Is my bag still in the room?” Onika asked.

  “Actually, no. We had to remove your belongings.”

  “You what? Where are they?”

  “We locked your bag in the luggage room. Let me get someone to grab it for you.”

  Onika watched the clerk make a phone call, while her panic surpassed fear and went to full-fledged terror.

  A few moments later, a young man rushed to the front desk.

  “Are you sure there’s a bag in the luggage room?” he asked the clerk. “I didn’t see one.”

  “You’ve lost my bag?” Onika shrieked.

  “It should be there,” the desk clerk said, ignoring Onika.

  “There’s nothing in the room, or anywhere back there.”

  Now the desk clerk looked confused. “There should be multiple bags in there. We had to remove belongings from several rooms this morning.”

  “No. The door was unlocked, so . . .”

  Onika felt woozy. Her stomach flipped, and her heart raced. This wasn’t watching-a-scary-movie afraid; this felt like being abducted and thrown in the back of an unmarked van by a man who wanted to make a suit out of your flesh.

  “Ms. Lewis, can you hold on a moment, while I go investigate this?” the clerk said.

  Onika managed to nod as she watched the clerk follow the young man to wherever they were supposedly holding her luggage hostage. Onika tried not to think of the worst-case scenario, although the entire day had been the worst day ever.

  The desk clerk looked annoyed and befuddled as she took her post behind the desk once more. The young man had not returned.

  “Ms. Lewis, I’m going to be honest with you. I think your bag may have been stolen. We have several homeless people who hang around the hotel, and sometimes they manage to steal some food from the breakfast buffet.”

  “So you’re telling me, you removed my bag from my locked room . . .”

  “Hotel policy, ma’am. I apologize.”

  “You followed your policy, removed my bag from the locked room, placed it in an unlocked room, and now it’s been stolen?”

  “The door was locked when your bag was placed there.”

  It was too much now. Onika burst into tears.

  “Would you still like me to print out your document?” the desk clerk asked in a kind voice.

  Onika nodded and gave the desk clerk the information. She printed the form and handed it to Onika along with a pen. After she was done filling it out, Onika begged the girl to fax it over.

  “There were some improper charges on my account,” Onika explained. “That’s why my card was declined. I’m waiting for the bank to return my money.”

  “Oh, well, as soon as we can swipe a card, you can go back into your room.”

  “The bank said it could take five business days.”

  The clerk drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, that’s not good.”

  “No. No, it’s not.”

  Without any other immediate plans, Onika sat down on the couch in the hotel’s lobby. She thought about that flight to North Carolina that she could take if she showed up to the airport and flew on standby. Then she dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come.

  What would be the point of going back there? There were no jobs that she’d want to do, nor anyone she wanted to see. There was absolutely no life for Onika in North Carolina, and she refused to let Aaron push her to a place past rock-bottom.

  “Ms. Lewis?”

  Onika was pulled from her thoughts. She looked up at the desk clerk.

  “Yes?”

  “I just spoke to my manager and explained your situation. He asked that you leave the premises until you can secure payment.”

  “Leave the premises? Have I disturbed anyone?”

  “No, it’s just the fact that we’ve had a theft. We can’t have anyone who isn’t a guest loitering in the lobby.”

  “B-but, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  The desk clerk looked sympathetic as she slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Will you call me if you locate my suitcase?”

  “Oh, absolutely. Give me your phone number.”

  Onika walked back over to the front desk. Her hands trembled as she wrote the number on the note pad. She’d been trembling and crying all day. It felt like a horrible, horrible nightmare. She prayed it was, and that she’d wake up soon.

  Onika took a deep breath, walked outside the hotel and wondered what she would do next. She had no money, no belongings except what was in her purse and backpack, and no place to lay her head. She needed a miracle.

  * * *

  A miracle didn’t come.

  Onika got more afraid as the afternoon melted into evening. Her stomach growled for her nightly hamburger, but she couldn’t purchase it. She reached into her bag and ate part of a stale muffin. She wanted to call someone. She had her sorority chapter, but how could she tell them she was out on the street with nowhere to go? How embarrassing would that be? She’d never recover from that shame, especially since all of the members of the DC chapter were beyond elite. They’d help Onika. Their sisterhood demanded that they not leave her in trouble, but Onika would never be invited to the day parties, conferences, and special events ever again. She’d be an outcast. It was bad enough that she’d lost Aaron; she couldn’t lose that part of her life, too.

  No. She wouldn’t call her sorority sisters. She would tough this out. Pretend she was camping out. Anything other than what it was.

  She went into a McDonald’s to use the restroom and looked at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, swollen, and red. Her cheeks were splotchy from crying. She looked like a domestic violence victim.

  And wasn’t she? Aaron had committed a heinous act of violence against her. He’d ripped her life from under her, in a week. He’d destroyed everything, on purpose—all because he had found another young girl to serve his needs.

  Although Onika felt the urge to, she refused to let herself cry again. She’d grown up with a mother who smoked crack every day. She’d slept on the floor in the corner of a hotel room while Judy turned tricks. She had been through worse. She’d let Robinson University and Aaron make her weak.

  She’d never make that mistake again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  With no money, no phone, and no way of getting either, Onika was, for the first time since her plight began, terrified. She had just spent her last few dollars on the Red Line train. It stayed out the latest and went the farthest. She’d ride it back and forth until someone made her get off or her bladder forced her to exit or embarrass herself.

  She scored a seat in the back of the train, and leaned her body and head against the window. She allowed herself to doze off, not worried about anyone stealing anything from her. She had nothing of any value on her person. Her hair was slicked back into a greasy bun, and she disguised herself with big sunglasses, and a pair of jeans and T-shirt that she found at the Goodwill.

  After she had slept peacefully for an unknown amount of time, someone tapped Onika lightly on the shoulder. She woke from her sleep a bit confused. She wanted to close her eyes again. Riding the train dressed like a vagrant (she was a vagrant) was supposed to be the dream—nightmare, really. It wasn’t, couldn’t be, real.

  “Hey, girl, I just wanted to wake you up, ’cause this probably the last time they gonna run through here tonight, and we’re about to pass Gallery Place. That’s where mostly everybody gets off.”

  The woman tapping her reeked of alcohol, weed, and crack. She also had a faintly musty body odor. Onika wondered if she smelled the same. The last time she’d taken a shower was two days ago, but she’d tried to refresh herself with paper towels and hand soap in the Starbucks bathroom.

  “Why there?” Onika asked the woman. “Why Gallery Place?”

  “Bathrooms and always people walking around. It’s safer. I’m Joy
ce. What’s your name?”

  “Nikki.”

  Onika had no reason not to believe the woman, but again, she had nothing to steal. What did she have to lose by getting off at a specific Metro stop? Besides, homeless women seemed to have something of a code, from what Onika could tell. They looked out for each other and protected one another from the men. If anything was dangerous being on the streets, it wasn’t animals or some sort of wildlife. It was the men that women were most frightened of on the streets, even police officers. They could take a woman to jail or, worse, to the backseat of their car for a little visit.

  Onika got off the train and walked slowly through the Metro station. Joyce rushed ahead, although it was two in the morning. Onika remembered how she had walked before her life had fallen apart. She’d sped through the station, not making eye contact with anyone. Especially homeless people.

  More than once, Onika thought about going home to North Carolina. If she was honest with herself, she thought about it daily. Tonight, the thought was at the forefront of her mind, like a flashing sign that she couldn’t turn off.

  Onika’s first night on the street had her rethinking all the things she thought she’d never do. Was a stripper pole really worse than this? She thought about the girls she knew in college who were strippers or, worse, had sugar daddies. She remembered thinking of them as classless whores. But as soon as things had gotten tight for her, she was thinking about going online in lingerie, and talking dirty to strangers.

  Onika was the ex-girlfriend of a rich man, and there was no honor in that. There was nothing. An ex-wife had alimony. A baby’s mother had child support. She had nothing to show for those years, and now she was on the streets.

  She should go home.

  But if she went home now, Earlene would laugh in her face. Tell her she’d reaped what she’d sown, thinking she was better than them to begin with. Earlene would take her in, but she’d rake her over the coals with guilt.

  It hadn’t gotten bad enough for that yet.

  And plus, how would she even get to Goldsboro? She couldn’t even get across town to get to the airport.

  As Onika emerged from the Metro station into the night, Joyce walked up with her hand outstretched, holding a flyer. Onika didn’t want to touch the dirty piece of paper, but who was she to look down on anyone now?

  “What is it?” Onika asked.

  “You need to go see this woman. Get off the streets. It’s not for you.”

  Onika was immediately skeptical. “Why don’t you go see her, then?”

  The woman laughed. “I’m not on my meds, and if you have diagnosed mental illness, she won’t take you. Plus, she has rules, and I don’t like rules.”

  “But you think I should go there.”

  “Yes. She has an open bed, and she helped my friend get a job and an apartment for her and her little girl.”

  “Thank you. I will call her.”

  “Where are you gonna sleep tonight?”

  Onika shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll sleep. I slept for a few hours on the Metro. I think I’ll just find somewhere to sit and rest.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll be over on H Street in Chinatown. There’s a restaurant owner who lets us sleep in the back of his building. He’s got lawn furniture for us.”

  Onika nodded her thanks. She folded up the flyer and put it in her pocket. She would figure out a way to call her tomorrow. Joyce was right; this life wasn’t for her. Maybe she wasn’t meant to be elite and live that dream, but living on the streets was not an option.

  The flyer said Safe Harbor. Onika hoped it was exactly that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Onika stared across the street at the Gold’s Gym that she used to attend every day until Aaron had abruptly canceled her membership. She didn’t know if she’d have enough guts to do what she planned, but she knew that she couldn’t show up at Safe Harbor looking dirty and grungy. It had already taken her all day to get her nerve up to go to Safe Harbor, and she definitely wasn’t going there stinking.

  Yes, she was homeless right now, but she was still a lady. She had at least one shred of respectability left.

  Well, maybe a half shred, because she was about to sneak into her former gym’s locker room and steal her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend’s clothes. And maybe her purse. She needed a shower and some clean clothes, and since Aaron probably paid for everything the girl had, he was going to give Onika one last gift.

  But first she’d have to get past the front desk staff.

  Onika crossed the street and held her head up. She slung her bag over her shoulder onto her back, held her shoulders back, and thrust her chest forward. She was just going to walk straight inside. Before anyone stopped her, she’d have exactly what she needed.

  As she walked through the front door, she grinned. Mrs. Owens was at the front, complaining about the towels, like she always did. If Onika hadn’t had a short window of time to complete what she needed to do, she’d stand there and laugh her head off. No one paid attention to Onika as she slipped by and into the locker room.

  Once she was inside, Onika found her former locker and then turned and faced the mirror. One of these lockers had to be Aaron’s girlfriend’s.

  Onika tried all of the lockers in that area and came across a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She wasn’t sure if the clothing was hers, but she swiped it anyway. It looked about her size. She didn’t find a purse or wallet. Not even a cell phone. But there was forty dollars in the pocket of the jeans.

  Onika hurried to take a shower and wash her hair. She used the body wash and shampoo that was provided for the gym’s guests. At first, she resisted the urge to take a long shower, but finally she did, and she enjoyed it. Onika felt like all the Metro crud was washing down the drain, and she was finally clean after her paper towel baths at Starbucks.

  She dressed very quickly, trying to make sure she was out before the girl finished her workout. The jeans were somewhat tight, and the T-shirt hugged Onika’s full breasts, but she made it work. She felt bad for the girl when she finished her workout and found her clothes missing, and vowed she would return them later.

  That hot shower gave Onika a fresh perspective on her day. It’s amazing what hot water and clean clothes can do. She was embarrassed that she didn’t have clean panties, but she’d use part of the forty dollars for that.

  How could Aaron, after all the love she had given him, be so cold to her? She’d chosen him over law school. Over everything. And he’d thrown her away like a bag of trash.

  Onika took one glance in the mirror on the way out of the locker room. At least she didn’t look as desperate as she felt. Her ponytail, though a utility hairstyle, looked sleek. Her glasses (Gucci frames, thanks to Aaron) made her eyes pop. She looked okay, sort of pretty.

  Too bad the only person she was going to meet was the director of a homeless shelter for women.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Today . . .

  Onika stood in front of the brick town house, contemplating whether or not she should go in. She didn’t really have much of a choice—her only other option was sleeping on a Metro car until it stopped running and walking around Gallery Place in DC for the rest of the night.

  Why today, of all days, had she finally met a guy who might be worth getting to know? Today had been the worst day of her life. The day she stood on the Metro platform wearing stolen clothes and carrying stolen cash in her pocket. The day she was thinking she’d go back to Aaron, if he’d have her. God, if He was watching, sure had a sense of humor.

  Onika regretted balling up and tossing his card. What were the chances that she’d ever see him again? And if she did, he’d probably think she was a jerk for never calling him. He seemed like a regular guy, and Onika had never dated a regular guy. She’d never dated any man besides Aaron, and maybe that was a tragedy all by itself.

  When Graham had asked her name, she’d told him the truth. She’d said Onika and not Nikki. She wondered if that meant
anything, or if he had simply caught her off guard with his friendly demeanor. Onika was used to men in DC being standoffish and rude. Some of them waited for the woman to make the first move. She hadn’t cared really, because she was seeing Aaron and hadn’t wanted anyone else.

  She felt a wave of sadness come over her. Survival mode was exhausting, maybe as tiring as grief. Her body, soul, and spirit felt weary. Broken. Yes, God sure had a sense of humor to send a seemingly good guy her way, when she’d just been broken.

  Onika sighed, knocked on the door, and waited. She wondered what it would be like on the other side. She’d seen stories about homeless shelters on TV. They were full of drug addicts and the mentally ill or women who had been beaten and abused by their spouses.

  Onika was none of those, but she was homeless. She had no money, no paycheck coming anytime soon, and nothing that Aaron hadn’t given her.

  The woman who opened the door looked pleasant enough. The first thing she noticed was her beautiful smile. She had long, thick hair—the kind black women ooh’ed and ahh’ed about when it was as natural as this mane appeared to be.

  She was wearing yoga pants and a snug T-shirt that showed off her curves. She was what the boys called thick these days. Well, maybe she was a little more than thick. She probably was more plus-sized, but very fit.

  “Hi. You must be Onika. I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up. You want dinner?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Nikki’s mouth watered, and her stomach rumbled at the smells coming from the brownstone. She hadn’t had a real meal in days.

  “I don’t know what you like, but we’re having spaghetti and meatballs tonight. There is also leftover fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and collard greens. What would you like?”

  “All of it?”

  Charmayne laughed out loud. “Oh, we are going to get along great, honey. You can go and wash your hands in the bathroom right down the hall.”

  Onika found the bathroom easily. Once she closed the door, she burst into tears. This woman was already being too kind. She didn’t know her, or that she’d even show up, and now she was feeding her dinner. She hadn’t watched her walk to the bathroom to make sure she wasn’t stealing. The clothes she had on were stolen, and this woman never suspected her.