I needed to see Chloe, so I banged on the door, but nobody answered. Chloe ran into the other room, probably to get William or Hannah. Five minutes had gone by, and still nobody had come to the door, so I started banging on it harder and harder and harder.
The more I banged on the door, the heavier my breathing had become. I’d become unhinged.
"Open the door, motherfucker!" I shouted.
I saw the curtain move by the window. William peeked through like a prissy little sissy, afraid of his own shadow.
"I've called the police."
"Man up, you fucking coward."
I pounded harder and cracked the window.
"I'm pressing charges," he said. "Trust me. You'll never see Chloe again."
The sound of a screen-door opened, and the next door neighbor lady looked over at me, giving me a stink face. I turned toward the neighbor and reciprocated the look.
"What are you looking at?" I asked.
The neighbor went back into the house and peeked out through her blinds, so I turned back continuing to knock on William’s door.
"I want to see Chloe, now." I said.
William peeked out again, with a half-smile on his face, cowering down, his hand trembling.
"You'd better leave before the police get here," he said. “I wasn’t joking.”
I started kicking in the door, and by the force of the impact, I shattered the window.
A loud police siren roared behind me, causing my skin to crawl, feeling like my heart had stopped.
Chapter 35
Two police officers got out of their car and approached me. Both looked worn down like they weren’t excited about working the night-shift. I screamed and beat on the door even harder, probably not the best idea.
"Ma'am please calm down," one of the officers said. "We just want to speak with you for a moment."
I trembled, breathing heavy, my eyes darting around looking for an opportunity for escape. They're going to take me away. I just knew it. I wasn’t going back to jail. It was over for me. They’d caught me red-handed. Why couldn’t I control my temper? I needed to calm myself down. I contemplated making a run for it, but I was afraid they might shoot me. I couldn't figure out the correct course of action, so I’d just froze. What was I to do? The wheels were spinning in my head, but there were no results, only paranoia with a dash of humility.
"I didn't do anything," I replied.
One officer stepped closer to me, and I jerked away from him. He’d put his hand by his side, as if he were preparing to reach for his gun, so I stepped back, preparing myself to make a run for it.
"You're not taking me anywhere," I shouted. "I have a right to see my daughter."
William peeked out of the window again, smiling wide.
"Officers," William said, "I'm pressing charges. She tried to break into my house. See the broken window. Please remove her from my premises and take her into custody."
I looked down, feeling shameful for what I’d done. If I could only control my temper, I wouldn’t get myself in so much trouble.
"Did you break the window, ma’am?" the officer asked.
"Not on purpose," I replied. "I just wanted to see my daughter, Chloe. She got hurt."
“Did you hurt your daughter?” the officer asked.
“That’s ridiculous,” I replied. “No. That jail-bait whore that my husband is fucking wasn’t watching my baby properly and caused her to fall down the stairs.”
The officer directed his flashlight toward the window where William was watching.
“Excuse me sir,” the officer said.
“Yes,” William answered.
“Is Chloe alright?” the officer asked.
“Yes, she’s fine,” William said.
“I’m fine, Mommy,” Chloe said. “I miss you, Mommy. I love you, Mommy.”
“Ma’am, do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” the officer asked.
Scared that they were going to take me away, I’d ran off as fast as I could. Nothing was going to stop me.
"Ma'am," one officer shouted as he ran after me, reaching out his arm for mine.
When he caught up with me, he put his arms around my torso, dragging me down, immobilizing me, submerging my face into the gravel alleyway. I pulled my head up and spit out a mouthful of filth, me hacking, trying to clear off my tongue. He held me down on the ground, me kicking and screaming, him pressing the side of my face against some debris, until his partner arrived. They searched me, making sure I didn't have any weapons.
I saw running shoes. When I looked up, someone had been pointing their phone directly at me, filming me getting my ass beat. Apparently, they must have captured video of my arrest. That was all I needed.
One of the police officers called him over, but the guy giggled and got the hell out of there. It was just a street punk, probably just out getting high, finding my ass beating so amusing that he wanted to record it.
A sharp pain in my face stung. I touched my cheek, discovering a shard of glass sticking out.
I couldn't believe I’d resisted arrest. I had priors, which meant I was likely going directly to jail.
They asked me for my full name, and they ran it through their system.
My tarnished past record wasn't something they took lightly. They questioned me about drugs, inspecting my arms for track marks. After they were finally finished humiliating me, they picked me up and threw me into the back of the police car and drove away.
I looked out through the back window and saw William gloating, with his big cheesy grin, waving to me as he walked out of the house.
My temper had gotten the best of me again, and I fell right into William’s trap. He knew I’d blow my top, and he knew I was vulnerable due to my prior record. Everything had fallen right into place for him. How could I have let him manipulate me like that? It was a big mistake on my part, because I wasn't going to be able to help Chloe from behind bars. Feeling like giving up, it was all over for me.
Chapter 36
The police stopped the car a few houses down. I cried my eyes out, begging them for a second chance, pleading with them to let me go, explaining my situation. They said they understood and had sympathy for me. They got out of the car, having a discussion, but I couldn’t hear what they were talking about. One of them walked away and was gone for a while. When he came back, they let me go, telling me that William decided not to press charges as long as I agreed to leave him alone and stay away from his premises. I verbally agreed and then went on my way before they changed their minds.
I wandered the streets alone for a few days, trying to clear my head. I knew I needed to patch things up with Sophia, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize, even though I knew it had to be done. I finally talked myself into going back.
When I got to Sophia’s place, I tried to use the key to open the front door, but the key wouldn't fit into the lock, so I knocked.
I expected her to open the door, but she didn’t, so I continued to knock, feeling somewhat self-conscious since I’d gotten in a lot of trouble knocking on William’s door several nights before. I didn’t exactly know if I’d be welcome. Just before giving up, Sophia opened the door, her face frowning, her eyes glaring, her teeth clinching tight.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I hardly recognized you," she replied. "How long has it been?"
Sophia must have been angry, because I didn’t come directly back. Sophia's feelings may have been hurt.
"I'm sorry I didn’t come back right away," I said.
I could tell there was more. She wasn’t just upset that I hadn’t been around.
“You've really made me a laughing stock," she said.
"I don’t understand," I replied. “What did I do?”
“You got my membership to the country club revoked,” she said. “I was told you’d attacked the owner’s sons, embarrassing them in front of everyone, having your boyfriend bully them into leavi
ng. Have you lost your mind?”
“They were making fun of me,” I replied.
I still didn’t regret smacking him and would do it all over again if I could.
“I saw the video of you, online, resisting arrest,” she said, “and so did all of my friends. They’ve been all asking me why I've had a dangerous vagrant living in my home. You’ve really turned me into a laughingstock.”
“What?”
Then I’d remembered the punk recording me with the phone while the police wrestled me to the ground.
"You’ve caused me enough trouble. I can’t take it any longer. You've been using my place as a flophouse long enough," she said. "Stopping in whenever you need something. Coming and going as you please. You’ve got to understand you're no longer a teenager. You need to grow up and get some responsibilities. People are not going to take care of you forever. One of these days, you'll have to fend for yourself. Today will be a good start."
Feeling like I was being reprimanded by my parents, Sophia was being too harsh. I was doing my best. How could she be so cold to me?
“It breaks my heart to say it, but you can't stay here anymore,” she said.
"Where will I go?" I asked.
"Where the hell have you been?" she asked. "I haven't seen you for weeks."
"I was spending time with Dylan."
"Continue doing that," she said. "I'm sure he'll take care of you."
It troubled me to hear her say that. I felt like crying, but held it in because I didn't want to appear weak.
Sophia slammed the door in my face.
I didn't have a phone and had never gotten Dylan's contact information, so I had no way of getting a hold of him. I hadn’t paid attention to where he’d lived because I was too busy hugging him and daydreaming when we went there. Normally I’d focus on specific details, but when I was with him, I’d been consumed by a haze of love, floating on cloud nine.
Maybe Sophia was right. Maybe I did need to grow up. In that moment, I realized I hadn’t done a single thing to improve myself. I hadn’t written one word toward my novel the entire time I’d spent with Dylan. Even if I wanted to write, I didn’t have a laptop or anything.
I’d become homeless again, nowhere to go and nothing to eat, scarcity creeping over me, hungry and tired, back where I’d started.
When I walked down the street, I saw a small pad of paper blowing in the wind across the ground. It had a pen attached to it. It was one of those pads of paper that sales people would give to clients. It kept blowing toward my direction. I picked it up and threw it in a waste basket. Then as I went to walk away, a gust of wind had blown, causing the pad of paper to fly out, falling to my feet. Then I had an aha moment. What a stroke of luck. It was almost as if it were destiny. I’d been given the means to write, to pour out my heart onto paper. I pondered, imagining myself as a successful writer, and readers were emailing me asking when my next novel would be released. I’d felt silly hoping for something that might never happen, even though I really wanted it to be true. I looked at the pad of paper as a sign. I didn’t have any resources to write, and it seemed fate had brought the pad of paper to me. I picked it up and shoved it into my back pocket. Just then, I had an idea. I decided I was going to write. I was going to grow up and become responsible. I was going to prove to everyone who didn’t believe in me that I could do it.
Chapter 37
I scratched down my thoughts on the pad of paper. I spent every moment writing, so I could create a new life for Chloe. Besides, it was a chance for me to show all those haters and naysayers I could do it. I had so much emotion bottled up inside of me, so I needed to release it as a novel, so readers could understand my pain. Maybe my story could become a best seller. Yet again, getting ahead of myself. I dug deep inside my soul, pulling out my inner hopes and fears, scribbling them all down on paper, weeping as the words flowed out, my emotions causing me to quiver. My hands trembled because I was so scared for some reason, but I couldn't stop writing. The words dropped from my pen like a burst of true inspiration. I was in flow, and it was as if I wasn’t even writing, but channeling the words straight from the characters consciousness onto the page.
Everything began to fall into place. Before I knew it, I’d finished what was a complete plot for what appeared to be a potential masterpiece. Sure my writing was raw, but I knew I could rewrite and polish it into a hit. I had a feeling my writing was something special because I didn't want to sell it. I was afraid to show it to anyone because it was extremely valuable. The words I’d written were so personal to me. The idea of having anyone else read it made me feel vulnerable.
I put the small pad of paper into my back pocket. I couldn't wait to type it into a computer and clean it up. But where would I get a computer? Every resource I had was gone. Then it occurred to me. I could go to the library and use one of the computers there. I ran there as fast as I could, feeling the force of possibility pulling me all the way.
I remembered when I used to take Chloe to the library. Chloe would play silly online games on the computers. I don’t know why I didn’t think of going there before.
When I got there, all of the computers were taken, and those people using them didn’t appear as though they would be leaving anytime soon. Those who noticed me watching them had territorial looks on their faces. None of them were budging.
I decided to look around while I waited for a computer to open up, realizing I needed to improve my craft. I pulled out an empty chair from one of the tables, planting my ass down, perusing some writing books I’d found. I couldn’t believe how much I didn’t know about fiction writing. I started taking notes. With each technique I read about, I thought of clever ways to execute them in my story. I was able to breathe more life into my writing, which made me feel even more optimistic. I’d realized there was some truth in my previous reviews. Had I been too guarded that I couldn’t take constructive criticism? A weight had been lifted from me. Thinking back about many stories I’d read before, remembering each of the techniques that had been used, it was like I’d just learned some valuable secrets. I knew it seemed silly thinking that way, but I did. I decided to go for it and write my romance novel, feeling like I could do anything. I needed to prove to myself I was a good writer.
I was getting antsy, because I’d waited for what seemed like forever, but none of the people using the computers had left yet. I had no where to go, so I had no choice but to wait. I sat patiently at one of the tables, looking over the pad of paper containing my writing. After I read through my writing again, I scribbled down more thoughts. I realized I was on to something because what I’d written was taking on a life of its own, as if my characters were alive in my head, me just taking dictation of their words and actions. It was the first time in my life I could call myself a writer, feeling so accomplished, I continued to write.
Just as I finished scribbling one of the best ideas, a seat in front of one of the computers opened up. I tripped over myself as I hurried, sitting down just before another lady almost got the seat. She gave me the thousand-yard-stare, but I didn’t care, because I was feeling determined.
Just as I touched the keyboard, I realized I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, in the comfort of Sophia’s place. I had really wasted my opportunity. I should have utilized my time there better. The keyboard was slimy, some of the keys were sticking, and crumbs were wedged in cracks. Of course, how could I complain. I didn't have any other choice. What other resources did I have?
I peeled my forearm from some stickiness on the desk and started writing, typing in word for word everything I’d written on the small pad of paper into the computer. Then I went back through and improved upon it. I saved it as a file on the desktop. What was I going to do? How was I going to come back and rewrite it? The odds of getting the same computer would have been slim.
I logged into the email account Sophia helped me setup and sent an email to myself with my story file as an attachment.
I deleted the file from the
computer because I didn't want anyone to read it. I needed to be safe. It was valuable to me, and I was sure it would be a big seller. I could feel it in my bones. I’d never been so sure of something before in my whole life. Synchronicity was occurring right before my very eyes. It seemed like I couldn’t write anything wrong. My prose was beautiful, evoking emotions in me that I’d forgotten about. I loved every moment.
Each morning, I sat in front of the library waiting for the employees to open the doors. Each evening, I pretended I didn’t notice the warning of the lights going off and on, preparing everyone to leave. Finally they’d escorted us out, in the eleventh hour, because the workers all wanted to go home for the night. I didn’t blame them. If I had somewhere to go, I’d certainly would have wanted to leave on time.
I worked tirelessly every day, putting my heart and soul into my writing. At night, I’d scribble out thoughts on any piece of paper I could find on the street, and the next morning I’d type them into the computer.
After many weeks of hard work, my novel was complete. I self-published online, using the account Sophia had created for me, hoping for the best. I figured if Sophia saw checks come in the mail for me, she’d know I’d become more responsible. I realized why she was so upset. She’d put faith in me, and I’d let her down. I figured my novel would be like a lottery ticket. It would either disappoint or improve my life.
I was so eager. I’d sat at the library every day pressing refresh on my sales report, hoping for purchases. The first day I got no sales. The second day I got no sales. The third day I got no sales. After being devastated with no sales, I started second guessing myself. Maybe I wasn't talented. Maybe I wouldn't be able to make it on my own. Maybe reality had smacked me in the face once again.
I’d become sad, feeling unmotivated due to the failure of the release of my novel. I was starving, but I’d gained a lot of weight, which was strange. Due to my lack of money, I couldn’t buy any food, so I’d go to the grocery store in town, grazing in the aisles. Sometimes I’d get caught by the grocery store manager. He wasn’t mean to me because he had a heart, but he’d still ask me to leave the store. Once I got back on my feet, I promised myself I’d come back to pay for everything I’d eaten.
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