by Natalie Dean
And the girl in his arms absolutely needed his help.
It was a much longer journey to the truck than it should have been, even though he was parked right outside. But every step made his heart jump, worried that he would cause unnecessary pain in the young woman that he was holding. When he finally got to the back door, he was aware that he was sweating much harder than he had any reason to.
“Thank you,” Frenchie said breathlessly, lifting up her friend’s legs and sliding into the back with her. “I mean it.”
He just nodded. “Do you know the address of the clinic?”
“No, but I can give you directions.”
“All right.” He got into the front seat and began to drive, Frenchie calmly telling him where to turn, when finally, he thought enough to ask a question. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the hospital?”
He looked back in the rearview mirror to see her shake her head. “Nah, all of the local ones will just turf us, nine times out of ten.”
“Turf?” he asked. Yes, that was good. Focusing on a definition, a word. A solid fact, instead of thinking about why there was a bruised and broken girl in his back seat or who had done something so awful to her.
“Yeah, you know, when a hospital tells a patient that they’re fine and to go home when they’re actually sick.”
Nope, that didn’t make him feel any better. “Why would a hospital do that?” he asked sharply. And why was it apparently a common enough thing to have its own specific term?
“Because we don’t have insurance. Or they’re worried about drug-seeking behavior. Or they’re some uppity ivy-league type that thinks being poor is a personal failure and doesn’t want to treat us.
“Or because we’re visibly queer, or maybe we’re fat, or any reason really. There’s not a lot of accountability, and they know none of us have the means to sue.”
“And this happens a lot?”
“Often enough. I remember Jenny almost died because the first hospital told her she was fine, but really her common bile duct was ruptured and she had bile leaking right into her bloodstream.”
“I see.”
That was… a lot to digest. Hospitals were where people were supposed to go for help. It didn’t make sense that they would send people away…but he also didn’t think that Frenchie was lying.
So he stayed quiet because he was afraid of asking anything else that would make the situation worse. To her credit, Frenchie remained calm, just lightly stroking her friend’s hair or arms and telling her that everything would be all right.
The whole situation was surreal, and that feeling didn’t pass as they drove through the city. The clinic turned out to be almost a ten-minute drive, and he had no idea how Frenchie would have hauled the young woman there by herself.
Thank God that he had given her his card. Mom said that the Lord worked in mysterious ways, and he couldn’t help but feel that was the case. If he hadn’t… he didn’t want to think about what she would have done or how long it would have taken them to get help.
He was avoiding a whole lot of thoughts, actually.
They managed to get to the clinic without any real incident, which was good because Solomon wasn’t sure that he could handle much more without tumbling into a series of questions asked one right after the other.
They were greeted almost instantly by two staff members who helped get the girl onto a gurney. It was almost a bit sad that they didn’t seem ruffled by it, and another came forward to ask questions of Frenchie, walking her to the back along with her friend.
And that was how Solomon ended up sitting in the small waiting room, trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. His eyes kept flitting about, going from corner to corner. He didn’t understand why the clinic was so small. And everything looked like it came from the nineties. He didn’t think that there was a single seat without a crack in it, and most of the carpet was worn thin.
His family worked with a lot of charities; why hadn’t he ever heard of the name of the clinic? He was sure that they could certainly use some funding.
Ten minutes passed, maybe more, before Frenchie finally came out, her mask of calm finally cracking around her.
Solomon wasn’t sure what to say, so he didn’t say anything, letting her approach him. Which she did, while wringing her hands around each other. But she stopped short just in front of him, and instead began to pace.
She went back and forth once. Twice. Three times before suddenly she was talking.
“Tawny, that’s my friend. Her name is Tawny. She’s really talented. Plays the fiddle, dances. She does living-statue stuff around the fairs and farmer markets and busks pretty much anywhere it makes sense to. You know, with the high traffic.”
All of it came out of her mouth in a rush, and he got the impression that he shouldn’t interrupt. Just sit back and listen to her expel whatever she felt she needed to.
“She always does really good, but she moves around a lot. She had to have been jumped. Maybe by someone else on the circuit. Or it was just a regular mugging gone wrong? If she was dressed up as a statue, they probably knew she was carrying her tips.”
What was with him and feeling like he was three miles behind the conversation? “The circuit?”
“Yeah, most of the street performers know all the good places to hit. There are some that are really adamant about always having the same places, but most work in a rotation so that they don’t bore the audience. They also usually work pretty well together to make sure everyone is protected from busker-poachers.”
“Busker-poachers?”
“Yeah, you know, people who specifically target and jump street performers.”
Once more he was struck by the thought that something was enough of a threat to have a specific name for it, but he kept his words to himself. He was asking too many questions and perhaps stressing Frenchie out even more.
But the more seconds that passed, the more horror and shock began to sink in. And those feelings only grew as one of the workers—was she a nurse? She was in scrubs—came back out.
“How is she?” Frenchie asked, rushing forward. “Is she okay? Is she conscious?”
“We have her on some pain medications now, and some things to prevent infection. We’ve helped clean up any of the wounds that she has, but she’s going to need several days of rest, preferably someplace warm and not on the ground.”
“Um, I don’t know her living situation, but—”
“She really shouldn’t be sleeping outdoors if she can manage,” the nurse said.
“Okay. I think… I think I can call a shelter and see if we can get her a bed.”
“If that’s her only choice, then all right. But those situations can be just as dangerous. The toilets are often very far from the bed, and having that many people in a small space puts her at risk for infection. I’m sure you’re already aware that the single or shared room shelters are booked up for months at a time.”
Frenchie nodded and for the first time since he had met her, the girl looked lost. “I’ll figure something out. When can she leave?”
“We can keep her overnight and monitor her, but we’re not allowed to keep her longer than that without sending her to the hospital. We technically shouldn’t be keeping her at all, but we can put down that she had a strong response to the pain medication and was deep in sleep.”
“Thank you for buying us time.”
“Of course. We’re glad you brought her in. Spread the word to your friends that we’re here and we’ll do the best we can by them. The city gets more and more strict every year.”
“I will. Is there anything else I can do before I head home?”
“No. Just try to be here around tomorrow at noonish to walk her home. Although she really shouldn’t be walking much in her condition.”
“Right. I understand. Thank you again.”
“Of course. Do you need anything before you go? We haven’t seen you in quite a while.”
What? They kne
w Frenchie? That made him wonder just how, and if she had shown up at their door beaten and battered like her friend. That thought made him nauseous, and he fought to shove it back down. It wasn’t his business. She was a grown woman and didn’t need his protection.
“I’ve been having a lot better luck lately. Hopefully you won’t see me for another long while after this.”
“Fingers crossed. But never be afraid to come in for an exam.”
“Right.”
They exchanged a brief hug and then Frenchie was heading out the door.
Solomon jumped up and followed after her, unsure of what she was doing. Especially when she walked right past his truck and kept going.
“Hey, where are you off too?”
She looked back to him as if she was surprised that he was still there. “Back to the old community center. Thanks for the ride and sticking around. You’re an all right guy, surprisingly.”
“Thank you for calling,” he said.
She nodded as if she was going to walk off, and he very much didn’t want her to do that.
“I can get a hotel room,” he blurted out like an idiot. Of course, the young woman stiffened and looked back at him sharply, so he blundered on. “For you and your friend. You could stay there while she recovers. It would be easier.”
And safer. And warmer. But he knew better than to say those things out loud.
“But that means you have to drive out again tomorrow.” She said it as if it were such a huge inconvenience.
It was just an hour’s drive there, and he could do business in the city while he was at it.
He shrugged. “That’s fine.”
She looked like she might have wanted to refuse him for quite a while before shrugging and turning away. “All right. Where do you want us to meet you?”
“Why not here? I figure I could pick Tawny up and shuttle her to wherever is closest in case she needs follow-up care.”
“You’d really do that?”
“Yeah.”
“…why?”
He didn’t know. Because the girl was in pain and deserved some comfort? Because he had the means to, so why not? Because everything that he had witnessed and learned that day was so different from his normal experiences that he wanted to see at least some good happen to counteract all the awful? Maybe all of them. He didn’t know. But he could do something, so he wanted to.
“Why not?”
“…all right then. Noon, tomorrow, right here.”
She gave another nod then turned away once more, and Solomon found himself walking quickly after her.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” she answered peevishly, looking out of the corner of her eye at him. Her gaze was back to being suspicious, wary, but he couldn’t blame her. She’d just gotten an awful reminder of what people could do to each other.
“Trying to catch up with you. Aren’t we heading to that motel?”
She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him with the oddest expression. “…what?” Her voice was so small, so pained, it made his heart lurch in a way that he hadn’t been expecting.
“I don’t want to go through the hassle of hunting a place down and setting it all up when Tawny’s in the car. She’ll probably want to lay down and pass out as soon as she can. It just makes sense for me to get it tonight, that way you don’t have to go… wherever you’re staying, and you can be refreshed for taking care of her tomorrow.”
Something strange shifted in Frenchie, but he didn’t know her well enough to put his finger on it. All he knew was that the hairs on the back of his neck were raising, saying something about her body language, her tone, was all wrong. Her body was tense, and her eyes were shuttling back and forth as if she was trying to make a difficult decision. It felt like nearly a minute passed before she licked her lips and answered.
“…okay,” was all she said, so quietly that he could hardly hear her.
“Okay,” he repeated.
Another nod, and then they were walking back to his car. He unlocked it, and she slid in, her shoulders hunched, and her lips pressed thinly together. Maybe it was exhaustion hitting her. It had to be especially heady considering the adrenaline she no doubt burned through since she stumbled onto her friend.
He needed to hurry up and get her into bed before she made herself sick. Grabbing his phone, he started looking up if any places around the clinic would be good enough for two young women just needed somewhere safe to get well.
11
Solomon
It took more time than he would like to admit finding a place that was close enough to the clinic but not a complete roach-motel, but eventually he did. It wasn’t a resort, or an any-star hotel, but it was one nice enough to have a suite with a deep tub—something he figured would be a godsend with Tawny’s recovery.
He forced himself to have a cheery face, but the entire time he felt sick.
He’d always been aware that there were people who had nothing. People who struggled and went without. But he always assumed it was usually due to some sort of character flaw on their part. They didn’t apply themselves or they wanted things handed to them. But Tawny and Frenchie were both so young looking. They hadn’t done anything, but they faced things like being sent away from hospitals, being targeted and beaten for making money by performing. He didn’t know why they didn’t have jobs—he didn’t even know how old they were or if they could work legally, but that didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.
“Hey, do you need to go back and grab your things from wherever you’re staying? I don’t mind running out.”
She stared at him sullenly before answering as if he should have known. “Everything I own is pretty much on my back.”
He looked to the ratty backpack slung over one of her shoulders that was hardly full to bursting. That statement was more upsetting than it should have been, so he just continued on.
“All right, this way. I tried to get you on the first floor, but there aren’t any suites there, so the second will do. At least the elevator is close by the entrance, the receptionist said.”
He saw her nod in his peripheral but that was it. She seemed even more withdrawn than when he started driving, and he hoped it was just everything catching up to her. She and her friend had been through a whole lot and really, the recovery was only starting. He imagined she was going to be pretty stressed for the next week or two. At least she would be safe in the hotel.
His mind went back to that money he put in her jacket pocket. Had he unknowingly put her in danger without even thinking about it? He had no idea. But as he looked at her again, he felt like she looked a bit better—other than the expression of resigned exhaustion on her face.
Maybe he was imagining it, but her cheeks looked fuller and the dark circles under her eyes were a little less prominent. The crack in the corner of her mouth seemed to have healed, even though her lips and hands were as chapped as ever.
If that just came from having her jacket and a week of an all right diet, he couldn’t help but imagine what a week in a hotel would do for her.
The thought gave him something bright and happy to look forward to, which was a welcome change from everything that had happened since he had answered his phone. Feeling his spirit lift ever so slightly, he stepped off the elevator and headed in the direction he was pretty sure the room would be.
“The receptionist said the ice bucket is at the end of the hall, if you get thirsty. You’re welcome to any of the coffee or sparkling water in the mini bar, but I ask that you don’t drink the alcohol. It’s always the worst tasting stuff and they charge four times the price for it.”
She didn’t say anything, so he just opened the door, standing to the side for her to walk in.
She did so, shoulders hunched, but he let it go. If he was in her situation, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to handle it.
“So you see you have your standard bathroom, but I made sure it had a jacuzzi tub. You’ve
got two beds over there in the bedroom, then a little kitchenette and sitting area. That way, you guys can have some fresh food if you want or maybe just heat up some pizza. I imagine you won’t have much energy to cook during the next few days.”
“Uh-huh.”
“The receptionist said that the internet password is on the welcome card on the nightstand, and that’s pretty much it. Any questions?”
Just a head shake.
He felt an odd sting of disappointment go through him. For some reason he wanted to keep talking, maybe sit on the nice couch and ask her about her life. Find out how she had ended up on the streets and what he could do to help her. But if Frenchie was already practically non-verbal, he guessed that she probably needed time to herself to decompress and realize it was going to be all right. She wasn’t alone in the situation.
“All right then, I guess—”
“Would you stop being nice and just get it over with?” she snapped, cutting him off and stopping him dead in his tracks as he went to leave.
Solomon just blinked at her a moment. He knew that he had said a few ill-advised things since they met, but he was pretty sure that he hadn’t in the past few minutes. “What do you mean?”
But her hands were already pulling her shirt over her head, revealing inch by inch of her less tanned and surprisingly muscular stomach.
Solomon froze for a moment, struck by exactly what was happening. It felt like he was moving through molasses and she was going at the speed of light, whipping her garment all the way off and throwing it to the side.
She wore an old sports bra, one that was more gray than white. He knew he shouldn’t be looking, but he felt like he was in a sort of shock. One moment he had been talking, the next she was getting naked in front of him.