ISOLATION: Child Support 911

by Tabitha White

  Angie, desperate to regain possession of her home, would jump through hoops if it would solve her problems. Angie and Lance’s breath began to slow and become shallower with each step in the deep snow. Scarves pulled up over their faces and hands tucked deep in their pockets served to lessen the effects of the blizzard.

  “We almost there yet mom, my skin’s burning.” Lance asked as his cold limbs shivered.

  “I can see the sign, it’s five hundred feet ahead.”

  The cold began to fatigue Angie’s body and her voice lost strength as she spoke. The negativity surrounding her emotional state did not help her body fare the cold. Lance mumbled inaudible words as his eyes filled with tears from the intense cold. He would not pull his hands out into the open cold, instead he pushed them deeper into his pockets allowing the salty tears free reign across the plane of his cheeks.

  You’ll pay for this Craig Freeman.

  Angie’s mind focused on negative thoughts as the reality of homelessness caused panic to set in. These thoughts served as another unwelcome distraction as her breath sawed in and out between chapped lips.

  “I can see it Lance! We made it!”

  “I’m freezing mom I’m glad we’re here; I can’t feel my toes.”

  Angie glanced down at Lance’s boots as feelings of inadequacy sunk deeper. Overtaking the airwaves in her head, Angie tried to see the glass as half full. She then began bargaining with God about rescue. She promised to pay it forward if rescued from homelessness and starvation.

  “I bet you will never again drag your toes while you ride your bike with your boots on will you. I told you when we bought them not to do that. You have ruined many pairs of shoes that way I’d think you’d have learned a lesson already. I bet this cold blizzard will stick out in your memory the next time you want to drag your toes on your bike.”

  “Can we go home? I left my action figures there because we had to leave fast.”

  “We cannot go home! The neighbors want revenge, and that scares me! We cannot return anytime soon.”

  Reaching for the door handle of the shelter Angie tried to loosen her stiff walk amid intense panting. Shuddering breaths followed as her anxiety about having no home reached toxic levels, leaving her feeling insecure. Her thoughts questioned whether she and Lance would fit in the routine hierarchical fluctuation in homeless shelters and left premature-aging distress signals in their wake.

  “Stomp your feet good Lance.” Angie said brushing the snow off Lance’s scarf and shoulders. Pulling back, he did not want to appear overprotected by his mother as numerous sets of eyes stared them down.

  Angie’s body tensed up like a retracted spring from the cold. Once inside her eyes searched out the closest source of water as her thin legs fumbled from decreased muscle coordination.

  “Welcome to the Beacon of Hope Shelter. Come with me and we will get you processed. I’m Paula.”

  “Hi Paula we need beds for the night.”

  “Hi Lance, pleased to meet you.”

  “I’m glad to meet you too. It's warm in here.” Lance said.

  “Our car ran out of gas about four miles back. The howling blizzard stranded us out there. The wind felt like hornets stinging my face.”

  “They expect this to top all blizzards in history. Okay I need you to fill out these forms and urinate in a cup.”

  “A urinalysis!” Angie asked with equal parts of disgust and anger.

  “We will not accept anyone who uses drugs.”

  Angie grabbed the pen, papers and urine cup allowing her scorned attitude to show its ferocious face while her tainted-red skin began to loosen and relax amid the balmy 72-degree heat-wave inside the shelter.

  I do not like my reward for acting as a good wife and mother. When the auction mallet smashed all my hopes and dreams, I left the old Angie behind. You wait Craig Freeman you have ignited a quest for justice within me.

  Handing the cup with the urine in it Angie, still provoked, sat down and waited for processing of the urine to commence. She noticed a woman sitting on the bench across from her and thought she looked familiar. Angie’s thoughts concentrated on Lance and rubbing his hands in an attempt to warm them as he sat huddled inside his jacket amid quivering shallow breaths.

  “Give me your gloves Lance, they’re damp and that will make your hands colder. Rub them together like I’m doing and you will warm up quicker.”

  Angie noticed the woman staring at them and it began to rattle her cage leaving an uncomfortable feeling in its wake.

  “Excuse me do I know you?” Angie asked.

  “You should, you and your husband stole everything from my family; Al and Tammy Beaureagard. Do you remember me now? Wonderful to see you joining me in hell. When Sam Adams fell off the roof on the Lakeview Casino roofing job, your husband bullied us telling us our premiums would increase to three times the current premium if we made a claim! We did what all your policy owners have to do, settle out of our own savings. That took every penny we had worked sixteen years to save. Then bad luck struck when Rocky Landon fell through the joists on the Consume new construction. When we made a claim on the policy we’d paid on for five years Craig and Martin railroaded us again. We had to settle out of pocket and that one bankrupted us! Lo and behold, guess who swooped in and took over the company and client midstream in projects, your husband and brother-in-law Martin. You people make me sick!”

  “Look I’m sorry; I had no idea Craig and Martin did any of this! I feel ashamed to share the same last name with them.”

  “Save your sorry apologies for someone who cares! Don’t lie to me and tell me you didn’t know! Your apologies resemble a hollow shell. Your signature, right next to his as an officer of the company proves your knowledge. Rot in hell Angie, rot in hell!”

  Angie stood there quivering like a wet cat in late October, her head pounding from her rising blood pressure released steam as she busied herself in a speed round of knuckle-popping. Lance stayed at her side as his emotions spilled over with him bursting into tears. Angie’s eyes continued to dart from Tammy’s hands to her eyes as Angie tried to anticipate Tammy’s next move.

  “Listen the prick duped me all the same and I’m as enraged as you! Believe me I’m no stranger to Craig’s wrath of destruction, the bank foreclosed our home and Lance and I have nowhere to go!”

  Tammy’s hands stayed in constant motion flailing about like a neurotic psychopath while her speech continued to accelerate. The tone of her voice elevated and caught the attention of residents.

  “Welcome to my world! I hope your sense of security feels threatened like mine does right now. Most of Craig and Martin’s clients have had their lives turned upside-down by those two monsters! Overall, we’ve lost our businesses our homes and most of us had to file bankruptcy! All because of two greedy monsters that tormented us and bullied us allowing them to swoon in, pick up the pieces of our shattered businesses, and make a profit to boot! How could you do this to friends Angie; have you no self-respect?”

  Remorse began to weave itself deep beneath Angie’s skin as she accepted yet another burden Craig initiated. The latent bulls-eye on her back and implications that she’d taken part in the mayhem caused her limbs to hang rigidly at her sides.

  “Listen I had no idea and besides Craig and I have divorced some time ago. I’ve tried to collect support from him and failed. I apologize for Craig’s criminal behavior. I will make it right – I promise you that, I will make it right.”

  “Save it for someone who cares. My husband left because Craig ruined him! He couldn’t take failing as a provider and left. I haven’t heard from him in over six months. I despise everything you and your decrepit husband stand for; greed!”

  The urge to clear her throat and assimilate the contents of it overtook Tammy like a freight train careening out of control. A deep hacking commenced that gained in tonal intensity until Tammy had gathered all the fluids in one giant slimy wad and expelled it from her lips. A whisper-soft swish sound occurred
as the bacteria-ridden saliva and mucus flew through the air landing at Angie’s feet.

  Angie’s rational transformed into outrage that overtook her like a violent tornado, as she sat humiliated at Tammy’s gross neglect for civilized manners. Her arms tensed up at her sides while her nostrils flared like that of a raging bull. Clarity of mind had never appeared more concise as her fists tightened while clenching her teeth until the dam broke open, fury, and rage that remained parked, released.

  “How dare you spit at me!”

  Angie balled up her fist and with one fallen swoop delivered Tammy a crushing blow to her lower abdomen. Tammy’s abdomen absorbed the punch full throttle and knocked this six-foot brazen blonde-haired woman off her feet and into a dish of humble pie.

  “Break it up women! Tammy back to your cot. You-newbie, sorry we don’t allow fighting here; leave!”

  “My son and I have no home and the blizzard’s relentless nature spells certain doom for us! She spit at me; I don’t deserve that!”

  “Sorry no exceptions.”

  “She spit at me; should I stand here defenseless and take it?”

  “I asked you to leave, go!”

  “Come on Lance! I hope you experience the same circumstances as my son and I!”

  Angie and Lance pulled their limbs in tight toward their core as they found themselves back on skid row’s doorstep wandering alone in one of Michigan’s worst blizzards. As the frigid air pecked at their sanity, the night’s events solidified Angie’s plans for revenge. This plan would parallel her, Lance’s current devastation, and full-mental collapse.

  You got me once by making me appear guilty to friends and neighbors. Someday flecks of blood will splatter as the flesh covering your bones is torn away while a jagged buck-knife slices through your bone like a machete gliding through a plump summer’s watermelon.

  The wind howled between the tall buildings while its cadence kept pace with the rapid thudding of Angie’s heart leaving an eerie whistling to encompass deserted streets. Darkness seemed overt as illumination from the streetlights dimmed because of thick snow falling.

  “That freaking scumbag! I appear guilty! Holding the bag, staring in the dejected face on our old neighbor infuriates me, all because of you Craig Freeman! Again I remain alone to pick up the pieces; mark my words though, I’ll pick myself back up and reassemble the pieces of my fragmented life and watch you rot in hell Craig Freeman!”

  Stuttering his speech from the cold Lance asked, “Has dad made you angry?”

  “Just ignore everything I say right now. Dad left us homeless and this torments me deeply. Left to trudge through knee-deep snow as our skin burns from the intense cold, alone, with no one here to help us makes me angry. It’s pitiful!”

  “Okay. Let’s make snow angels or catch snowflakes on our tongue.” Lance said stopping and holding his tongue out.

  Grabbing his hand Angie said, “Lance there’s no time for that now. We have to find another shelter. Oh Lord, the car! The snow-plow driver will bury it!”

  Lance and Angie continued their exhausting journey Angie curled and uncurled her toes trying to get the blood flowing and some degree of feeling back in her toes. Lance meanwhile pulled his scarf up over his face after his feeble attempt at catching snowflakes.

  “Mom have you decided where we will sleep tonight?”

  “If the shelter’s full, we’ll sleep in the car.”

  Grasping for the door handle Angie set fear aside and allowed the old, passive Angie to reappear. Entering the heated atmosphere welcomed Angie and Lance. Taking off their damp gloves, they cupped their hands over their mouths and exhaled into them.

  “Hi we need a bed to sleep in for the night.”

  Handing her a plastic cup, label and pen the clerk said, “Urinate in this, write your name on the label and bring it back up here. Oh and take the boy with you, we don’t run a baby-sitting service here.”

  Trumping suit was an urgent need for shelter for the night. As a result, Angie placed humiliation in an inferior position. Given their dire circumstances, someone could have commissioned Angie as an assassin and in that moment, left with one choice; comply, as no alternatives had presented themselves yet.

  “Thank you. Come on Lance.” Angie said holding out her hand for Lance.

  No matter how embarrassed or mortified I feel my mouth will stay shut and my fists at my side. First, Lance and I need a warm place to sleep. Second, I have to formulate our next move.

  As Lance and Angie’s lives skidded into a hellish existence, she knew what needed to occur, and she didn’t like it. On many occasions, John, Craig’s friend, tried to win over Angie’s attention. Mortified by his perverted actions, she detested him. The mere idea of calling him turned her stomach but void any family and surrounded by discontented friends she found herself left with a singular choice; John.

  “Wonderful I get to call the Brylcreem man. I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about his loathsome lust he aggrandizes toward me.”

  “What mom?”

  “Nothing, don’t pay any attention to me.”

  John worked in construction; the brute physical labor type; concrete. He dressed his wave with a product that realized its heyday in the 50’s; Brylcreem. A conservationist, he didn’t believe in showering weekly. Most of the regulars at the corner bar, too drunk to smell his foul odor never noticed, but not Angie. He made no secret of his affections toward Angie. On many occasions, he’d lean in deep toward her bosom and inhale her perfume. Then he’d ask Angie about leaving Craig and coming over to a real man’s side, his side. Craig would laugh, sip his beer and enter another business conversation on his Bluetooth. Jockeying for position with their egos made Angie uncomfortable and feeling like a China-doll on a shelf.

  Walking to the desk Angie placed the warm urine cup on the counter and surrendered her pride.

  “Where shall we wait?”

  “Inside the intake room.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter 4

  Lance’s expectation for a hot shower brimmed over as they walked across the busy Flying J Truck Stop parking lot and through the entrance door. On tap this morning, contentment that Angie would never take for granted again. Feelings of degradation welled deep inside Angie each time she and Lance had to take a cold sponge bath in the sink at the public library. Without full immersion in water, that clean feeling escaped her.

  “I hope you slept well, you have plenty of energy this morning. Angie said.

  “I can’t wait to take a hot shower, can I go first mom?” Lance asked.

  “Sure babe.”

  The comfort of washing her hair with warm water primed Angie as grimy visions still danced in her head like some evil creature. The shallowness of the library sink coupled with the icy temperature prohibited full immersion of Angie’s head in the water. However, the contaminated remnants of gum, paper towel and other maladies washed off visitors hands decided the battle between full immersion or not. Soon after their recent ordeal began, with no reliable means to exercise proper hygiene, Angie cut her hair.

  Right now in this moment, they lived like kings. Nothing could break their stride.

  “Come on honey I know you’re tired however we need to shower.”

  “Oh yeah a warm shower! Do they have hot water mom?” Lance asked.

  “They have all the hot water you want. We can stay in the shower for an hour if we like with no end to the hot water. We bath in luxury today, no cold shower in the sink baby. After this a good night’s sleep; and court tomorrow.”

  “Wow mom I had a wonderful day today.” Lance said. “Did you collect all the money dad owed you?” Lance asked. Angie wondered if somehow he believed a great injustice swayed in their favor making all their troubles disappear.

  “No dear I wasn’t able to collect that money.”

  A harsh reality invaded the forefront of her mind like the creature on April 15th when you owe. Uncomfortable gnawing feelings set in as she questioned meeting th
eir needs past today. How long could they continue in the car with bitter temperatures forecast? Putting Lance back in school with no home would prove difficult. Angie’s eyes rested on the golden ticket, as a short-lived secure feeling encapsulated her soul and insulated them from the harsh realities of their world.

  The room; a glorious seven by eight foot palace boasted large gray ceramic tiles on the walls that ran lengthwise. Looking around the room trying to capture every detail of the surroundings she noticed a radio encased in the wall. A red arrow marking the dial to the weather station for truck drivers stuck out like a Thanksgiving duck. Feelings of superiority overtook her as she turned on the radio and listened to smooth jazz sliding off the fingertips of the great saxophone player on the other end of the wires. Angie languished in the reprieve while her hardships loomed like cumulonimbus storm clouds.

  “Lance how about you take the first shower?”

  “Okay Mom. Can I sit in the shower and play trucks?”

  “No baby you can’t sit in there. Some people like to spit and urinate in the shower. You don’t want to sit in that. You’re also going to have to wear your flip-flops.”

  “Why do I have to wear flip-flops?” Lance asked with a puzzled look on his face.

  “Well because if you stand in someone else’s filth you will get athlete’s feet.”

  “Don’t I want to become an athlete? I heard someone’s dad in school say he wanted his son to become an athlete because they become instant millionaires. He said ‘money, money, money’. I thought you said we don’t have enough money right now.”

  “No honey” she began to explain “athletes feet consists of germs and bacteria from someone else’s body. Germs cause diseases. Athlete’s practice a sport every day and perfect their skills. When they become good, they become professionals. When someone plays sports as a professional, they receive large salaries. Many of them do become instant millionaires. Do you see the difference?”