by Zara Zenia
Since he wasn’t paying me any more, despite his desire to get rid of me as soon as possible, I started working nights at a coffee shop. Oh, the irony!
This sudden increase of work and stress during my first trimester of pregnancy was difficult. I was always exhausted and felt miserable. The only benefit from my exhaustion was that I was too tired to go out and spend any money, so I was saving more. Still, I was worried that even a few extra months’ wages wouldn’t help me or my child in the long run. This was just not a good time for me to be out of work.
On the nights after work that I didn’t immediately pass out in my bed, I called around to all of the music venues in the area. I compiled a list of all of the places where he could possibly be. By the time I was finished, there were hundreds of names written in my notebook. I started from the top, and called the number, hoping someone would have some information.
Looking for someone you don’t know very well is an odd thing to do. I was starting to wonder if he had changed his name, because no one seemed to have an Elijah in their payroll.
A few times, the person on the phone would say that they knew Elijah, but when I described him, they would inevitably say, “Nah, our guy is short and fat.”
One of the problems with this system was the fact that these places had a short employee turnaround. One week, they have a new bartender or bouncer, and the next week, they’ve gone somewhere else. Some managers just didn’t know (or care) who they had working, as long as bodies filled the position.
It took a little over a month, but I managed to narrow my list of 351 possible locations down to 26. These places were either some place that I could see Elijah going, or ones that had employees that matched his description.
I didn’t have much time left. I had just started to sprout the tiniest bulge in my midsection, and I needed to find him before things progressed any further. I didn’t want to be waddling around nightclubs looking for him.
I started my search with the smaller towns in the immediate area. On the nights I wasn’t at the coffee shop, I would hop in the car, tell my parents that I was going to work, and drive off to search for Elijah. I didn’t have a picture of him to show to the bar staff, so I just had to ask the right questions.
Have you seen a guy here in the past month that is about six feet tall and really muscular? He had dark hair and really dark eyes. Almost like a forest green, but darker. His last name? I’m not sure. No, he’s not in any trouble; I just want to talk to him.
When people would ask who I was, I just told them that I was his sister. If they gave me a funny look, since we don’t remotely look alike, I would correct myself and say I was his foster sister. I felt like saying that I was his girlfriend or baby momma would not help my case. I probably wasn’t the first one of those to come looking for someone at some of these places.
Another month had passed, and I had managed to cross twenty more off the list. I was down to six more places, and they were all in the same city, Avalon. The drive there takes over an hour, and I didn’t have the time with all of the shifts I was working. My dad agreed to keep me on for a few more weeks, as long as I promised to wear something to conceal my stomach.
I circled the date on the calendar. In one week, I would spend the evening in Avalon, searching through the different clubs and bars. I was excited and dreading this trip at the same time. If my list were right, I would have a better idea of where Elijah was. If not, I would never find him.
At the end of the month, I checked my bank account and did some math. I could afford to rent a one-bedroom apartment and have enough money for food and other basic expenses for about six months. I would be fine if I just had to worry about myself, but I would have someone else to care for in the near future. Babies were expensive, and while I’d be okay living on cheap, crappy food, my child wouldn’t. I would also have to find a daycare so I could work, which would be another major expense.
I had no choice but to do the last thing I ever wanted to do. I asked my parents for money.
One night, I joined my parents for dinner and waited for the right moment to spring the question on them. They were in a pretty good mood since my dad had just scored a major new contract, so they would have a lot more money coming in. I interrupted my mom in the middle of musing about whether she should have the pool house remodeled, or build a guesthouse.
“Mom, Dad?” I squeaked. “I have something to ask you.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve been going through my finances, and I don’t think I have enough money for both me and the—”
I gestured to my stomach. My parents ignored my pregnancy, so I could hardly find the courage to talk about it myself.
“What do you want us to do about that?” my mom asked. “Your dad has graciously given you an extension. We let you live here rent free. We even bought you a car. What else can we give you?”
“It’s not as though money is tight here,” I said. “You can even think of it like a loan. Once I get settled in and have a few years to work, I can pay you back.”
“I employ you for all of these years, and you’re still asking me for money?” my dad asked.
“Well,” I said, getting angry, “it’s not like you paid me very well. I took the low wages in hopes that I’d earn a promotion by now. I could be working in management by now, but you never gave me the chance.”
“What did I do to deserve such ungrateful children?” my dad wondered aloud.
“It’s hard for me to feel grateful when you held me back from being anything more than your secretary.”
“If you want my money, you can have it,” my dad spat. “I’ll give you five thousand dollars to leave this house by the end of the week.”
“The end of the week?” I cried. I had nowhere to go. I hadn’t started looking for places to live.
“Mom,” I said, looking for some backup.
“Listen to your father,” she said coldly. “Don’t you think you’re a little old to be this dependent on your parents?”
In a way, they were right. I thought about what other people my age were doing and they were finishing up college or starting new jobs. On the other hand, I truly thought that working for my dad would have afforded me greater opportunities. He denied me a chance to work my way up and out.
I quietly excused myself from the table and went up to my room. I had to decide what I was going to take with me, since I had to move out, without having a place to land on my feet.
The following days were a blur. My dad didn’t want to draw attention to my departure from the company, so he brought in my replacement before the office opened for me to train for an hour or so. I didn’t even ask him for overtime pay.
Going through all of my belongings was a daunting task. I had no choice but to consolidate my possessions into two suitcases. I packed all of my looser fitting clothing. I sighed longingly at the boxes of tiny tops and sexy dresses in the “for sale” pile. My days of looking cute were soon to be over, I was sure. I had already put on some extra weight, and I felt gross. I rolled up more leggings and baggy sweaters and stuffed them in my suitcase.
On Saturday, I loaded them in my car, packing the trunk and the backseat until there was no more room for my belongings. My parents had conveniently scheduled a day at the vineyard, so they wouldn’t have to watch me leave. It was hard to go, but I had bigger things on my mind. Tonight was perhaps my last chance to find Elijah.
I checked into my hotel in Avalon, and rolled one of my bursting suitcases to my room. I studied my list of six clubs. I had to find Elijah. I was simply out of options.
Chapter 14
Elijah
I woke up on Saturday afternoon around two o’clock. I was having a hard time adjusting to this new schedule. For as long as I could remember, work involved waking up early in the morning. Now, I’m at work until three in the morning, at the earliest. By the time I get home and get ready for bed, I can see the first hint of daylight.
It had been nearly three months since I left Spr
ingfield. I arrived in Avalon with almost no money. The first few nights, I slept in the park. Instead of sleeping on a bench like the other homeless people, I took shelter in a thicket of bushes. I had to stay in hiding.
I was still terrified that The Organization would find me. I walked the streets with my head on a swivel, looking for anyone who looked out of place.
Fortunately, I found a job in a big club. This was a dream for me. I didn’t have enough experience with music to work as a DJ or anything, but I did some bartending and got to work some security when big acts were in town. It wasn’t great work, but the customers (mostly the female ones) tipped well and I got to listen to all the music I could ever want to.
I made a point not to become too friendly with anyone. My time in Springfield was my first attempt at living a secret civilian life, and I failed. I would have to try a lot harder this time.
It was easier to become lost in the crowd in a large city. In a town, you only have to show your face a few times in a store or restaurant to become familiar. Here, there were so many people that you’d only be remembered if you did something to stand out. I rotated the stores I went to so I wouldn’t see the same employees more than once a month.
I even tried to change my appearance. I got colored contacts, so my unique dark green eyes were now a chocolate brown. I grew out as much facial hair as I could without looking dirty, and I even got a trendy haircut. Well, maybe it wasn’t anything special, but I had only cut my hair in a short buzz cut for the past decade. Instead of fitted t-shirts that showed off my muscles, I wore looser fitting sweatshirts. I could have passed for a generic college kid.
When I looked in the mirror, I still saw the scared man that would always be on the run from someone. My lack of sleep etched dark circles around my eyes and my mouth pulled down into a frown.
I had gotten better at lying about my past, and peppered in fake details about my life. I stopped mentioning the army, because that’s a detail that The Organization might latch on to. I pretended that I had a family up north somewhere and that I came to the city because I wanted to become a DJ or music producer.
When I started at the Starlight Lounge, I told the hiring manager that I went by my middle name, James. I don’t think anyone else there knew that my real name wasn’t James. If anyone asked for Elijah, they wouldn’t be able to reveal my identity. However, if anyone saw my ID, I would have a logical explanation behind my name change.
Conversations between my coworkers and me were brief and friendly. I covered shifts for people so I could make a little extra money for my next hiding spot. Bar staff changed regularly, so I never really worked with the same people more than once a week. Even then, we were usually so busy that there was no time to chat.
After a few nights of sleeping in park bushes, I found a cheap apartment. The other tenants worked jobs with normal hours, so I hardly ever saw anyone. It was a tiny studio apartment, and it wasn’t particularly clean or nice, but it was enough for me.
As far as my safety and security went, things were better here. The only downfall was that I was painfully lonely. Throughout my entire life, I had never been truly close to anyone. In my childhood, I was moved from home to home, so friends and “family” members changed on a near-yearly basis. In the army, we knew that our friends could be killed by the enemy, so we kept a certain amount of distance between each other. In The Organization, Lenny was the only soldier that I really ever talked to. My life was filled with loose attachments to people.
Something changed when I met Dana. Suddenly, there was someone who I wanted to see on a regular basis. She was so warm and fun, and I just wanted to tell her everything. I was holding in so much emotionally, and I wanted to share things with her.
For the most part, my past relationships with women were primarily for sex. I didn’t want any sort of romantic attachment because I knew that anything good could not last. Something bad would happen. Something bad always happened.
I protected myself by receiving sexual pleasure through a series of one-night-stands with whichever hot piece of ass crossed my path. It wasn’t too hard for me to pick up girls. I turned on the charm, and girls left their friends to come home with me. In the morning, I was gone, with no contact information to give out. A few times, I’d wake up after a wild night and the girl would already be gone. I liked those types the most. They kept me from being tempted to see them again.
It was so unlike me to think this way, but I wanted to see Dana again. I had dreams about her where I held her in my arms and smelled her sweet shampoo as we lay curled against one another. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, clutching my pillow with a hollow feeling in my chest.
Around three o’clock, I finally managed to stop daydreaming and get out of bed. I splashed my face with cold water and worked some product into my hair. I was still getting used to having hair that required styling. I was told the night before that I would be working the bar, so I pulled on my signature fitted t-shirt in a dark gray and popped a loose-fitting sweatshirt on top. Much to my dismay, I realized a while ago that I would earn a lot more money in tips if my clothing showed off my body. However, the sweatshirt allowed me to come and go from work in disguise.
I still had a few hours before I had to leave for the club, so I made a sandwich and switched on the TV. The bad thing about working nights was that there was nothing good on TV during the day. I flipped past a channel that was showing some sort of action thriller where the main character was running away from the enemy. It nearly sent me into a panic. I quickly flipped to the next channel. Anything that reminded me of the fear I felt the night I ran away from Springfield made my lungs seize up and my heart pound.
Some sort of romance movie was on the next channel. It looked boring, but it would help pass the time before work. I grabbed a fistful of chips from the bag beside my bed and settled in. The female lead in this show was a busty blonde with soft facial features. There was some sort of forbidden romance plot going on that seemed trite and overdone, but I was slowly being sucked in.
The male character took the female to a quiet study to make sweet, tender love to her. They didn’t show much on cable television, but their panting breaths and expressions of ecstasy made the crotch of my jeans feel a little too constricting. I turned off the TV and splashed some more frigid water on my face.
I got to work a little early and the manager on duty was already panicking, despite the fact that we weren’t going to open for another hour.
“James,” she said. “Two of the bartenders called in sick today, so we’re going to be short staffed. I’m really sorry, but you’re going to be swamped tonight.”
“That’s okay,” I responded. More customers meant more tips for me.
We were especially busy that night. There was a guest DJ in town, and while I wanted to be up close to watch her handiwork, I was needed at the bar. I poured beers and mixed drinks lightning fast. I turned on my charm with the ladies and pulled in good tips, along with a collection of drink napkins with phone numbers scrawled on them.
“Dude,” one of the other bartenders nudged me on the shoulder. “You gotta check out this girl on my side of the bar. She’s like, a ten,” he shouted over the booming bass.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “You should ask her out.”
“I would, but she’s been staring at you ever since she sat down. I think you should get her a drink on the house.” He winked at me.
“Maybe,” I laughed. “What’s she drinking? Can I afford it?”
“She just asked for a cranberry juice. Maybe she’s taking things easy tonight.”
“Maybe she’s an alcoholic who likes club music.” I joked. “I’ll check her out in a minute.”
I served a few more drinks and poured myself a glass of water when I reached a lull. I walked around to the other side of the bar to see this girl that was apparently really hot.
When I saw her, I nearly dropped my glass. After months of trying to forget all abou
t her, there was Dana, sitting at my bar, alone.
Chapter 15
Dana
I tried a sleazy rock bar and a big club where girls danced on platforms with no results. I tried to talk to all of the employees I could find to ask them if they knew anyone named Elijah, or had ever seen a guy that matched his description. Bouncers, servers, even the dancers all said no.
In my pregnant state, this task was not easy. I was tired, and just wanted to go to bed. It was also hard to look at all of the young people in sexy outfits drinking and having a good time. I felt bloated in my stretchy jeans, flowy top, and leather jacket.
I seriously considered going back to the hotel and trying again tomorrow, but I was short on time, and even with my father’s buyout money, I couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel for long.
Gathering up all of the energy I had left, I checked my list for the next spot on the list. Starlight Lounge was a smaller club, with an upscale vibe. I couldn’t imagine Elijah playing music or serving up drinks for rich kids, so I thought about moving on to the next bar on the list.
For the sake of closure, I reconsidered, and went to the Starlight Lounge. If I didn’t get any leads there, I would just go back to the hotel, and sleep all day. I should have given up a long time ago, but I couldn’t rest until every last name was crossed off the list.
The club was packed full of sweaty bodies jumping around to the deafening music. Colored lights moved in a dizzying array and fog wafted from the stage. I prepared myself to ask more questions to the employees, but first, I needed something to drink.
I felt lame ordering juice at a bar full of wasted people who were probably my age. This could be me, I thought, watching a girl in a short dress and flower crown kiss a tall boy on the lips.
I took a sip of the tart juice and looked out amongst the crowd. This was all too overwhelming.