by Ann Grech
I turned a corner and saw them—three men walking toward me. I looked for a way out. Anything. But there was nothing, nowhere I could go. There were barricades along the other side of the road blocking the sidewalk, protecting pedestrians from the construction site there. Next to me were shopfronts lining the street, old buildings with straight facades and small insets where the doors were. I was trapped and standing there wide-eyed, waiting with trepidation to see what fate would befall me. My heart rate picked up, my pulse thrumming in my veins. Fear spiked, sending adrenaline crashing around my body. I breathed fast, my shallow gasps betraying the terror of being confronted by them. I wasn’t even sure whether I had a reason to be scared by them, but my flight instinct was firmly locked on.
I desperately wanted to hide, but unless there was a laneway coming up in the next few yards, I’d have to walk straight past them. Even if there was a laneway, the last thing I wanted was to get caught in it alone, potentially three-on-one. There was nothing I could do but face them head-on.
I walked past them, and their conversation continued uninterrupted. They barely looked at me as I shifted to the edge of the sidewalk to let them pass. The breath I’d unknowingly been holding whooshed out of my lungs, and I held my hand up to my chest, my heart racing. Being alone at night had never bothered me before, but now was different. I was out of my element, away from the safe streets of my neighborhood. Away from everyone I loved and everything that had been a comfort to me. I staggered over to the doorway of a bookstore and sank to the cold ground, thankfully out of the wind. My head swam and I breathed out again, trying to stop myself from vomiting up my dinner.
I clutched my backpack close and held tight to the knowledge that this would only be until I got paid. I hadn’t even asked when it would be; I’d been so excited to get the job that I didn’t even know when or how much I’d be getting. It didn’t matter; anything was better than nothing. As long as I had enough for a room to stay in, I didn’t care what the pay was.
I didn’t know what was more unnerving—the darkness or the quiet. The streets were a very different place than during the day, and I’d never been so scared to close my eyes in my life. My mind ran wild, vividly playing through every worst-case scenario possible and in graphic detail. What if someone tried to hurt me? Could I defend myself? What if I got picked up by the police? What if someone stole my bag? It wasn’t worth anything, yet it meant everything to me. What if my job fell through? What if this wasn’t temporary? What if I got sick or went nuts? What if this was my life?
But I couldn’t think like that. They always said in church that as long as we had faith, we had a chance. I’d misplaced my faith somewhere along the way, but I had hope. That would have to do. I was one of the lucky ones. This was only temporary. I’d make sure it was. As soon as I got on my feet again, I wouldn’t be sleeping out in the cold, and the night’s work I’d just finished would make sure of that.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to keep awake long into the night. It wasn’t just the cold that had shivers running up and down my spine. Fear clawed at me, keeping my eyes open. But I was fighting a losing battle. I tried to keep vigilant, tried to listen out for risks but my eyelids were getting heavier, my blinks slower.
3
Trent
I must have fallen asleep sometime because when I opened my eyes, the inky black of the sky was turning a dull gray, a chilly morning setting in. The pinch in my neck from sleeping curled up in the corner had me groaning. If I thought I was sore from standing all night washing dishes, sleeping on the ground was worse. So much worse. I stretched and immediately regretted it, the cold air assaulting my extremities. Traffic had already picked up in the streets, and workers passed me at a steadier pace. Across the road at the building site, tradesmen were arriving in their vans and trucks, coffee in hand as their breaths fogged up the air in front of them.
My body screamed in protest as I unfolded myself and managed to stand up. I would have done almost anything for a hot drink right then, but I had a bit of a walk to get one. I strode up the street as fast as I could toward the gas station I’d seen a few days earlier. The coffee there would probably taste like dishwater, but I knew it’d be cheap.
Stepping into the little shop at the gas station was heavenly, the heated air melting the cold from me. I stood there a moment just enjoying the change, hoping that spring would finally make an appearance. I filled the cup and immediately sipped the steaming brew, which had me sighing in absolute pleasure. It tasted like watered-down tar, but as the warmth spread through my veins and I defrosted from the inside out, I knew I could face the day. A smile tilted my lips. My task for the day was pretty simple—find somewhere to have a shower. Maybe even wash the clothes I’d worn.
Fishing a dollar out of my bag, I handed it to the attendant and said thank you. Standing by the door, right under the main heater, I slowly finished the cup. “Refills are half price if you use the same cup,” the attendant called out to me. “It’s shitty coffee, but it’s warm.”
I nodded my thanks and headed straight back over to the machine. Who knew something so bad could bring such simple joy? I fished out some change and handed it to him, asking on the spur of the moment, “Are there any public restrooms around here? One with a shower? I’m going for a run but won’t have time to go home and get changed before work.” I hoped my white lie was convincing, but the attendant looked like he saw straight through me.
“There are toilets out back that you can use to relieve yourself. You’ll need this.” He handed me a key with a hunk of wood attached to it. “But if you want to wash, the best place is the shopping mall. The one with the library. They have clean toilets and showers there but be careful of security. If they see you hanging around there for too long, they’ll ask you to leave. The public library is fine though. It’s only small, but they don’t mind if you pull out a book and stay all day. I used to study there all the time.”
“Thanks, bro,” I replied, touched that he’d given me such valuable information.
“Anytime.” He nodded as I finished my coffee and made a move outside to the toilets. I was learning just what I’d taken for granted. Toilet paper was precious. Having a place to go more so.
I handed the key back and found myself needing to fill the time again. It was too early for both the mall and the library. Opening would be at least a few hours away, so I figured I’d look for a place I could stay that night.
The hours of wandering around, aimlessly moving killed me. I couldn’t help but think of the people curled up in their beds or taking a shower, the ones reading a newspaper over breakfast, watching cartoons or yelling at kids to get dressed. I thought about my parents and what they’d be eating and Jake sleeping in until his mom ripped the blankets off his bed to get him up for school. I even thought about Ryan and what he was doing. If I sat still too long, my thoughts wandered. At least walking the streets gave me something to look for—a place to keep warm that night.
I got to the mall where the library was an hour before opening. Figuring I’d just hang around like I’d been doing all morning already, I wandered through the parking lot toward the entrance. I hoped no one would think I was acting suspiciously. Movement behind the loading dock had me pausing as I passed it. I looked again and saw a lady there. She rolled up a sleeping bag and put it in the shopping cart to the side, filled to the brim with stuff.
“Hey, hi,” I called out, moving over to her.
She eyed me suspiciously. “Whaddya want?”
“I, ah…. Never mind.” I shook my head and looked back at the cardboard boxes lying on the ground where her sleeping bag had been. I was about to walk away when something stopped me. Even if it was only one more night out here, I needed to learn the basics. Where was safe? Where was warm and dry? “Is it a good spot here? Safe, I mean?”
“Listen, kid, don’t go bringing any trouble my way,” she warned, stepping closer to me. She was tiny, but she carried this don’t-screw-with-me attitude that I l
iked.
“No, I wasn’t trying to cause trouble,” I explained, stuffing my hands in my pockets and looking down at the ground. I toed the tarmac with my sneaker. “I slept in a doorway last night. It was freezing. I was just wondering if it was warmer here. And safer.”
Her whole demeanor softened, understanding filling her eyes. I hated that. I hated how young and stupid and vulnerable I felt. I’d learned since Friday night that it didn’t matter how big and macho I thought I was. I was just a scared freaking kid. It was a hard pill to swallow. “It is warmer. The cardboard helps. It’s good insulation and there’s always a supply here from the shops. As long as I clean it up before I leave, I’ve never been moved on. I think security like having someone here to keep the criminals away.” I helped her pick up the boxes and throw them in the compactor before wiping my dusty hands on my sweats.
“Where do you go during the day?” I asked. “I’m not sure where I should stay.” She pushed the cart around the corner out of the way and plucked a messenger bag from it.
“I work full-time, so I’m at the office all day. I go to the soup kitchen sometimes to help out after work, then come back here at night. It’s quiet, so….” She shrugged.
“You work full-time but still sleep here? Why?” I didn’t understand. Surely she’d be able to afford something.
Her laugh held no humor. “Because my credit rating is shot, and I can’t get a lease. I got sucked in by a con artist a few years ago—he stole my identity and took everything, racked up a bunch of debts that I’ll never be able to repay. Now I’m living here, but it’s not so bad. I earn enough that I can eat, and I know where to go for showers and bathrooms. You’ll get used to it.”
“Yeah, I hope not,” I murmured, horrified that someone like this, someone who had a job and looked normal would sleep on the streets at night.
“I need to go get cleaned up for work.” She motioned to the library. “The soup kitchen is on Main Street, near the church. I’ll be there tonight volunteering for the dinner service. Swing by.”
“I’ll be at work. I’ve just started, but maybe I could hang here tonight with you?” She eyed me over for a long time before nodding.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Trent.” I stuck out my hand to shake hers, and she grasped mine with a firm grip.
“Edith.” I smiled at her and shoved my hands back in my pockets. “Well, Trent, I need to go. See you tonight.” She turned and began walking away before stopping and turning back to me. “Don’t bring trouble with you, Trent. I don’t need it.” I told her I wouldn’t, and seemingly satisfied, she left. I wandered off, walking around to the front entrance of the library. It hadn’t opened yet, but the gated-off bathrooms had been unlocked.
The second night’s work was much the same as my first—hot soapy water, scrubbing pots and pans, a dinner of pasta primavera, and a walk to the train station after my shift was over to drop off Katrina. I liked her. She was cute and fun, someone who I might even consider asking out on a date if my life wasn’t so upside down and I wasn’t so utterly broke. At least I had somewhere to go. The walk to Edith’s spot didn’t bother me. It was secluded enough that we wouldn’t get hassled by police or passersby and sheltered from the weather too. The well-lit area made me more comfortable. I felt safer there, undoubtedly helped by security patrolling the area. Hopefully, once I got paid, I’d be out of there. I contemplated my conversation with my boss about my wages as I walked.
“I’m running a business, Trent. I can’t make exceptions and pay you before I pay everyone else.” Renee turned away from me and started sorting cutlery into the buffet along the back wall. She looked engrossed in the task, but I needed to talk to her so I interrupted again.
“I understand. I don’t have access to my bank account at the moment though—remember my cards being stolen? Well, the bank has frozen the account and I need ID to get a new card or open another account. But I can’t pay for the ID because I don’t have access to any money. I was hoping I could get paid in cash so I can sort this mess out?”
“Sure, that’s fine.” She nodded, not once stopping her task. She was good at dismissing people, and her withering stare when I hovered there had me backing away.
“Okay, great. Thanks,” I muttered, trying not to sound scared.
I frowned. I’d approached her with two questions and she’d barely even answered one. I’d have to ask Katrina when she got paid. At least she’d give me an idea.
When I arrived at Edith’s spot, she was already asleep. My footsteps roused her and she pulled her sleeping bag up higher around her beanie-clad head and rolled over when she saw it was me. I pulled a couple of cardboard boxes out of the cage and laid them out before finding a larger one that I could curl up in. I didn’t have any blankets or a sleeping bag, so sleeping in the box was about as good as it was going to get for me. Anything had to be warmer than the night before.
Using my backpack as a pillow, I lay down and closed my eyes, trying to relax and fall asleep. Rustling nearby had me cringing. Mice, or worse, rats would be around the mall, the rubbish from the fast-food joints and cafes drawing them in. Oh God, if one ended up in there with me…. I shuddered, my skin crawling. But maybe it was birds or hell, a mountain lion—not that we had them in New Zealand, but still. Anything would be better than mice or rats.
Exhaustion slowly overtook me, and sleep dragged me under, my makeshift bed no more comfortable, but so much warmer than the cold pavement the night before.
4
Ten Years Later
Angelo
“Mamma mia,” I breathed, taking in the view of the bridge before me as I flew over the curves in the road in my new-to-me baby, a Mini Cooper S. The turnoff was just after the wooden structure, but even though I knew it was coming I still nearly missed it. The sight of the narrow road passing over the roughhewn log bridge that straddled two cliffs had me captivated. A sheer drop was between them, with the clearest aqua-colored water I’d ever seen at its base. I’d photographed it on my first visit here, and now I was being hired to do it as a professional. It wasn’t the first job I’d ever completed, but it was my first in the country I’d now called home for three weeks.
I passed over the bridge, my car bumping on the uneven surface as the flash of a lone figure standing against the pillar whipped by my peripheral vision. I’d already been warned that the bridge wasn’t for the faint of heart—it was barely wide enough for two lanes of traffic, never mind pedestrians. The safety railing was nonexistent too. But it did have the best views of the bungee jump platform, and I was getting paid to photograph it and the crazy-assed jumpers hurling themselves off a perfectly good walkway with nothing but a glorified elastic band wrapped around their ankles. No thanks!
I closed the driver door with my ass, juggling my camera bag and tripod. I waited for the truck to pass before jogging out onto the bridge, then stopped short when I got a better look at the man standing there. Head held low, his dark hair was spiked messily like he’d repeatedly run his fingers through it. Even though he wore a heavy, leather jacket and was hunched over, his broad shoulders were unmistakable. His faded blue jeans were wrapped like a second skin over thick thighs, the muscle flexing as he shifted his weight and peered over the edge. I was captivated by him, drawn in like a fish hooked on a line. He was beautiful. A photographer’s dream. Without even realizing what I was doing, I had my camera out, zooming in on his profile and snapping photograph after photograph. What’s his story? Where is he from? Why is he here? He was a perfect blend of strong and vulnerable; beautiful in his flaws. The bump on his nose hinted that he was a scrapper. Has he broken it before? His pouty lips softened his features, even though they were turned down in a harsh frown. He tilted his head slightly, a drop of water on his eyelash shining like a diamond in the soft light of the winter’s day. He’s crying. My heart ached for him, wanting to fix whatever it was that’d brought him out there. I sucked in a breath and found myself stepping forwar
d—
Tires squealed and a horn blared, making me jump out of my skin. Looking around, I realized I was in the middle of the bridge, right in the line of oncoming traffic.
I waved in apology to the driver impatiently waiting for me to get out of the way and jogged over to the support columns the man leaned against. He looked me over but said nothing, turning back to the view before us. I clicked a few photos, landscapes including the buildings and a few close-ups of jumpers about to leap off the podium. I tried to line up an action shot to get a reel of the tandem jump about to occur, but my bags were in the way.
I’d never once asked for another person to help me out while I photographed my subjects, but instinct screamed at me to trust him. I assessed him again, trying to drop my photographer’s eye. Despite my near proximity, he paid no attention to me, keeping his head low and gaze glued to the sheer drop below. The tight set of his shoulders and stony facial expression certainly weren’t an invitation to speak to him, and I wondered why he appeared so closed off. I couldn’t resist looking at him though. What had he witnessed, experienced, to make him like this? I went with my gut and reached out to him, hoping I’d be able to get through the scowl he looked to carry around as a shield. “Hey, hi,” I called. “Think you could help me for a minute?” I smiled at him, trying to get his frown to disappear. Silently, he nodded and reached out, taking my bags from me. “Grazie,” I added while I adjusted the settings on my camera and snapped the first of many photos of the bungee jumpers.