Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
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 They’re outdated but functional, and that’s all I need.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 TOILET bowl 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 hit Delete and 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?
This past week has been an eye-opener in so many ways. As I struggle to fall asleep every night, I can feel the pain of his betrayal fading less and less, and it's making me realize with sadness it's because the love we had for each other had also been fading over the years.
Sandy was just the first one to notice it.
But instead of talking to me about it, he simply decided to swap me for someone else.
I've approached every non-profit in the city that offers legal aid, and they've all virtually said the same thing.
Sorry, but we can't handle your case at the moment. We prioritize cases where an individual's safety is on the line.
Honestly, I'm not sure if that's how they are all year long, but that...that was an eye-opener, too. Not only did their priority system make sense, it also made me realize that no matter how hard my life is right now, some still have it harder.
Another half hour passes before I'm finally done cleaning the toilet and the shower. My body makes its usual protests as I get off my knees. I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror, and I immediately look away.