by Jamie Ott
He opened the door to her room. The walls were cracked, yellowed and peeling and the bed was sunken in the middle. A layer of air separated the carpet from the actual floor, and made a poof-like noise with every step she took. It was the worst room she’d ever seen, but the fragrance of bleach and ammonia and detergent led her to believe that it had been cleaned.
“You need anything, call downstairs.”
“Okay,” said Piper.
She sat on the bed and stared at the wall for a good fifteen minutes. There was no reason for this, except that she wanted to rest but she didn’t want to sleep. Piper was simply too overwhelmed and it felt good to just sit there a few moments.
Finally, she told herself just a little bit more, she needed to push herself. Her survival depended on it.
She took off her backpack and unzipped the back. Inside, she hadn’t realized that she had grabbed that many bags. There were seven, in total; three green and four brown. Hoping none of them belonged to the nice man from the donut shop, she emptied them all on the bed.
At first, the money didn’t look like a lot, seeing how they were clipped and wrapped with rubber bands, but as she unwrapped one of the wads, she realized that there was possibly tens of thousands of dollars. She examined the checks and the lengths of receipts. Just a bunch of numbers, but it didn’t make any sense to her. She couldn’t tell which totals were what. So she’d just have to count. First, she set to destroying the checks and receipts by ripping them up to tiny shreds and then flushing them down the toilet, and washing them down the sink and tub. In her own apartment, just paper towels were known to clog the pipes. Hopefully, spreading the paper about would make it go down easier.
Then she set to counting the first wad. “1,2,3,4,5, 6, 7,8,9, 1000, 11, 12, 13…” After a few minutes, she realized she couldn’t continue counting that way, not with how much money was there. So she began to count them into different piles. This part was really tedious and Piper thought she would never get done.
Two hours later, she contradicted herself and finished counting. She stared at the pad of paper, onto which she’d written the numbers of each pile of money. Now, she added them up into a few smaller numbers, and then added those numbers into a grand total.
Piper felt a little confused, like the numbers couldn’t have been right. She went through the piles once more to make sure all of her counting was correct and when she realized that she had not made a mistake, she just stared at the pad in disbelief.
“I don’t believe it,” she muttered. “$250,000.”
A mixture of feelings enveloped her: happiness that she wasn’t going to starve again, at least not for a while, and sadness that if she got caught, which was highly likely, she’d spend a lot of time in jail. She learned about larceny and the penalties from one of her play pals, whose own brother had gone to jail.
No time to fret about it. What’s done is done, she told herself. She gathered the piles of money into one, large, neat pile. Then she tried to tie one of the rubber bands around it, but that didn’t work. Well, she couldn’t very well carry seven wads. She needed to condense the pile. Next, she tried taping the money to her legs and walking about the room, but the wads simply fell off. They also pulled, painfully, at the little hairs on her legs.
Perhaps she could put the money into something, like a toy. She’d seen it done on television. Money stuffed into teddy bears, but teddies could be lost. People and kids might want to touch or admire them.
She turned on the television. She sat there a few minutes when a commercial came on about mattresses. If only she could travel with her own personal money bed, she laughed to herself, and then it came to her.
“The pillow!”
She turned on the spot, walked over and picked up one of the lumpy, old stuffings.
Perfect! People traveled with pillows all the time! It was big enough to hold all the money. If someone noticed the weird consistency, once it was stuffed, she’d simply say it was an old pillow.
Piper opened the top drawer of the desk and found a complementary needle and thread.
~~~
Sometime later, Piper had a heavy pillow ripped and re sewn. She’d pulled out all the stuffing and broke it up and re fluffed it, and then put it back in with a mish mash of money. Then she shook it, and it made a funny whooshing and scratching noise. It was too loose so she ripped up the other pillow and added that stuffing to it, too. Now, when she shook it, the stuffing hardly moved.
The weight was still a problem, but she didn’t think anyone would think much of it. It was such an obscure and unheard of idea that she doubted even most authorities would consider it.
“Unless they were narcotics police,” she mumbled.
Okay, so her plan wasn’t totally fail safe but it was the best she had.
She stood up and walked into the bathroom, feeling kind of sick with worry. She turned on the water and ran a bath, and peeled off her clothes.
A few moments later, she sat in the water and realized that she’d forgotten to consider one large detail: Where she wanted to go.
She’d always wanted to visit New York City. In the movies, it always looked so busy and fun. People liked to dress up and go to fancy restaurants. She’d like to do the same. And what better way to hide, than to be something she wasn’t, which was fancy and dressed up all the time.
The hotel had only given her a tiny soap, but she did her best to clean herself with it. She’d never appreciated the scent of soap as much as she did at that moment, and sighed happily as layers of dirt and oil was released from her skin. The tub, a dark color now, she emptied it a refilled it. She never, ever wanted to be without hot water again. Seeing they hadn’t left any shampoo, she rubbed the soap on her scalp and down through her long strands of hair.
After she’d cleaned herself, she re ran the water once more and just enjoyed the steam. She lay back and tried to imagine where else she would like to get lost in. Los Angeles? Boston? Chicago? Nahh…
She didn’t want to go someplace that she would not be familiar with. New York, she had seen so much on television that she was sure she’d recognize it when she got there.
What about cost of living? She’d seen a listing of apartments in a newspaper. She’d heard that it was one of the most expensive places to live.
Yes, but it was always her fantasy place. Besides, she didn’t have to live right in the city.
Whatever the case, she needed to leave immediately because she didn’t fit in there. It was a nicer neighborhood than hers, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still get caught. She’d heard her mother speak of taking a train to New York’s Penn Station. It was practically nonstop all the way.
“So that’s it, then. I’m going to New York.”
She got out of the tub, dried herself, and climbed into bed.
New Day
Chapter 8
She woke up when the phone rang hours later. Apparently, she was about to sleep through her check-out. The man wanted her out of there.
“Okay, sorry. Can you give me ten minutes?”
“Yes, but after that and I’ll have to charge you.”
“Okay, bye.”
Quickly, she got out of bed and put on her new clothes. She brushed her teeth and her hair, and then did her best to shove as much of the pillow into her bag as she could.
She walked to the bus depot.
Inside, she confirmed the bus she needed to get her to the train station that would take her out of the state. After, she walked to nearest stand, bought a pretzel bread, and then found a seat and waited.
~~~
At noon, Piper found herself in the famous Penn Station. Starving again, she walked over to a vendor and grabbed a slice of pizza and a soda. She ate as she sat and watched people while thinking about how to find out where to get a room. Then she noticed the information board with lots of touristy information. The sign said hotels, rooms, shows, etc. She finished her pizza and then walked over.
Piper picked up a map, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a kiosk that said “Press Ready to start to book your reservations,” so Piper pressed ready and 16 minutes later, she’d booked a room with a hotel on the West Side. Amazingly enough, when the kiosk wouldn’t accept her made up seventeen digit visa number, she was able to call the hotel from the kiosk and book a reservation anyway. Feelings of elation made her skin warm! She was going to spend the night in a four star hotel, and not on the cold streets of Manhattan.
She ripped her ticket out of the kiosk and stood in line at the help desk. A few minutes later, a lady showed her which train to take. She followed the signs and waited ten minutes, and then her train finally roared its arrival and slid to a stop on the tracks.
Exiting the station, a few minutes later, Piper held her breath. It was so much bigger and more majestic than she’d imagined. People whooshed by her, left and right, ahead and behind, trying to get to where they were going. She walked to the end of the street, and caught up to a crowd of people who, without waiting for the light, hurried across the street.
In a way, she felt like a duck in a herd, walking face forward, trying to keep up the pace. It was exhilarating but it made her heart race.
New Diggs
Chapter 9
Piper walked into the ample yet dim lit hotel. The entrance was enormous with cream, multifaceted floors. People sat about the lobby in the couches and chairs while reading newspapers and drinking coffees. To her right, a line waited to get into a restaurant while up ahead, another line of people waited to check-in.
After a twenty minute wait, she handed over her ticket and security deposit. The desk clerk hardly paid attention to her young visage. She asked for identification. Piper handed over her Pittsburgh library card. The woman printed off two security cards and gave them to her.
Piper walked to the elevator and took it up to the eleventh floor. When she opened the door to a soft carpeted room with a brand new flat screen television and a posh looking bed, she smiled.
She set her bag on the floor and fell back on the bed, bouncing.
The sound of air across the shaft roared like ocean waves, and from below, she heard honking. Lying there, she wondered what to do next. She knew she couldn’t stay in the hotel too long because people would begin to notice her; that and it was too expensive. She needed a place more private but it would do for a few nights or weeks as she became familiar with her surroundings.
For the first time since taking the money, she was excited. She felt like it was possible that life, for her, was going to change, and for once, she was going to be well. Living in New York City was going to be the biggest adventure she’d ever had.
She got off the bed and went to the window. Pulling back the curtains and pressing her face against the glass, she looked leftward, out of the air shaft. Down below, she finally saw what people meant when they said the city ‘bustled.’ Never in her life had she seen so many cars, so many people and so many buildings in a setting.
With her excitement came a feeling of fear, though. What was going to become of her? Sure, she was going to have lots of fun, but was she just going to hang out until she was eighteen? What would she do for the next three and a half years of her life?
That’s when she decided that she needed to go back to school. Besides, life was boring enough, every day on the streets of Pittsburgh. New York, though adventurous, could turn out the same way, she figured. She needed something to occupy her time.
Then she felt lonely as she looked down at all the people going off to do something. Whom would she share her adventure with? And whom did she have to talk and laugh with when things were bliss? Funny, because she always imagined being alone, but now, more than anything, she wished she had someone to share the moment with.
Then she thought about her mother, again. Would she ever know what happened to her? Or would it be a lifetime of unanswered questions?
She lay on the bed and watched television for hours until she was anxious. She needed to go for a walk, or to do something. So she took a quick shower and brushed her hair. Then she changed into warmer clothes and left the hotel room.
A few guests passed her by as she went down the hall. Never had she seen such nicely dressed people, and it was hard to imagine that she was staying in the same hotel as them.
She stepped off the elevator and into the dim entrance hall. Across the lobby, an older, but still young, man stood behind a thick wood desk. He smiled at her.
“Please don’t talk to me,” she muttered.
She tried to walk past and ignore the man, but he asked, “Can I help you?”
On a rack beside his desk was a ton of maps and little books.
“Where’s a good place to eat?”
Outside, she noticed things she didn’t when she arrived. Everyone looked so serious and determined to get to where they were going. Strangers flew by each other as if they were walking on treadmills. Big grey buildings towered over her head. Across the street was Central Park. Down from there, many cars and taxis circled around an intersection. The sun made the buildings look golden.
Catching her breath, she walked to the end of the street, made a right and found the café the clerk told her about.
~~~
Three days later, Piper sat in a coffee shop and looked at the Village Voice newspaper. She got queasy at the thought of actually calling some of the numbers. What would she say? How would the conversation start?
Her options looked like few, as many places had a lot of requirements that she was sure she wouldn’t be able to accommodate. They wanted things like proof of income and such. The rentals that had fewer requirements gave her the impression that they were possibly in lesser neighborhoods. However, there were many advertisements for live-in motels, and they were already furnished.
She decided to try for an apartment, first. A motel might offer less privacy. Less privacy might mean she’d have to move around a lot.
Piper took a bite of her egg, cheese and bacon bagel and chewed, thoughtfully. Then picked up the little prepaid cell phone she purchased and dialed the first number she circled.
“Village Rental Agency; this is Jackie.”
The woman had a strange and annoying accent.
“I - I,” she stammered, “I’m calling about the one bedroom apartment?”
“What listing number?”
“I don’t see, uh, oh yeah.”
She read the number and waited, hoping she’d say something.
“I have an opening at 1 pm and at 3 pm, tomorrow. When can you come see it?”
“3 pm sounds good. How do I get there?”
The woman gave her directions. Piper hung up feeling relieved and hopeful. Maybe apartment searching wasn’t so bad, after all.
The next day, she walked up the stoop of a scary looking building. But like many other places in the city, once she got inside, the décor was much friendlier. The walls were freshly painted and clean smelling. In the corner of the lobby and mail room, a man watered some plants. He looked at her and said, “Please sign in.”
He nodded his head at the desk. Piper did as he asked and then walk up the steps to the third floor. She knocked on the door and the woman, Jackie, appeared.
The place was small but clean. It had wood floors, white walls and a nice big window in the living room. Piper felt a little excited as she looked around. She’d always fantasized about having a place of her own; the place she saw in her head looked a lot like the one that she stood in, now. No, it wasn’t the richest home in the city, she was sure, but it was nice, neat and clean. Best, she didn’t have to be embarrassed about living there.
But then she went into the kitchen and saw a cockroach in the sink. Jackie must have noticed her shock, for she said, “It’s hard to avoid some pests in the city. You get so many people living here for so many years. The walls never really get re built. The best one can hope for is quality control. You’re not from the city are you?”
&nbs
p; She shook her head.
Despite the lovely living room, the kitchen was a different story. It had an old, ugly stove, the sink was yellowed, and the refrigerator must have been from the ‘70s.
They made their way into the bedroom, which had a nice big closet. The bathroom had an old toilet, sink and tub. For some reason, it was particularly chilly.
“What do you think?” asked Jackie in an anxious manner. It seemed she had some other place to be, as she looked at her watch, repeatedly.
“It’s nice,” she said uncertainly, wondering what would happen next.
“And would you like to apply?”
“Apply?”
“Yes, here,” she said, handing her a stapled stack of papers and looking at her peculiarly. “Fill this out. How old are you, do you mind me asking?”
Piper didn’t hear the question because she was shocked by the amount of information being requested on just the first page.
“What does this mean?”
She pointed at a line on the page. Jackie leant over and said, “Credit references. You need to provide at least three credit accounts that we check up on, you know, to verify who you are and that you make your payments.”
Not only did it ask for credit references, but it wanted work detail and bank account numbers.
The lady handed her a pen.
“What if I don’t have all of this information?”
“Then I’m afraid you won’t be able to rent with our agency. Take the application to your parents. Ask them to cosign for you. Don’t worry; most kids don’t have all the requirements to rent. Unfortunately, I can’t hold the apartment for you, though.”
Crestfallen, she walked down the three flights of stairs. If this was what she needed to get an apartment, then she was out of luck. She was going to be back on the streets, eventually. No doubt about it.
She went back to the motel, feeling worse than when she first became homeless.
The next morning, someone left another paper outside her door. Despite the total hopelessness she faced in finding a place, she opened it and looked anyway. This time, she found an advertisement for a place just north by a few blocks. It said all she needed was a security deposit and identification.
Immediately, she put on her shoes, grabbed some money and walked over.
