A Forgotten Tomorrow

by Teresa Schaeffer

  Once I get back to the bridge I grab my bag, which is hidden behind a slab of broken-down cement. There is nothing spectacular in there that anyone would want to take, but I hide it anyway. It holds all the necessities, my toothbrush, toothpaste and some shampoo that I stole from a luxury hotel a few weeks back. Oh, and Elijah’s blanket.

  It has become a habit for me to take in a line or two before I take a nap each morning. Honestly, it’s the only thing that relaxes me enough to even try to sleep. It only takes five minutes or less for me to enter a euphoric state of being. Without that I would obsess about my night’s work and the disgusting men I came across. Before I found meth, it was hard for me to even think about sleeping.

  By the time I cover myself with the blanket and get comfortable, my eyes begin to feel heavy. I never sleep more than a few hours because I’ve learnt to quickly rest, and then move on for the day.

  I’ve never been caught sleeping out here, and I don’t want to risk it either. I really shouldn’t call it sleep. It’s more like resting my eyes. It’s never happened, but you never know when some weirdo or crackhead may wander over my way, and I’d surely want to be awake for that! A little sleep is better than no sleep though, right?

  After a while, an odd sensation comes upon me. I know that I am lying here with my eyes closed, sleeping. But I feel like I’m awake. I feel everything that is happening as I fall into a vivid and surreal dream-like state.

  No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop it.

  I know that I am in a small room, but I don’t recognise it. It’s dark – too dark – and I feel utterly alone, even though a presence is with me. This presence isn’t pleasant, though. Nothing in this room is. There isn’t any kind of familiarity, just dark shadows that seem to hover above.

  At first I realise that the room is empty, except for the small bed that I am lying on. I try to scream, but I can’t. Not a sound escapes my mouth, even though it is open. Tears flow as I jerk my body to escape the shadows that come near me. They are not happy, whatever they are.

  A flash of a wooded area then comes into view. It looks familiar, but I can’t quite make out where I am, as I lay in the brush. The trees are swaying with force, screaming out to me, telling me to run while I can. But I can’t. The trees come alive as tiny branches wrap around my ankles and wrists, forcing me to stay on the ground.

  The shadows have followed me into this dark wooded area now. Their laughter is almost demented as they come into view. They are pushing me down too, laying on me, forcing me to be immersed in their dark silhouettes.

  I smell it. Their stench resembles the smell of old, rotten beer – it seems to consume my entire being. They don’t stop either. They only push me lower into the ground, forcing themselves upon me. I squirm. I shake, trying to escape. Maybe I should scream?

  I manage to make a sound that echoes through the trees. The branches loosen their grip and I somehow manage to pull myself away from the shadows. Again I scream, even louder than before.

  I now hover above them. Looking down I see the one shadow begin to morph itself into human form. It’s Johnny. His dark, angry eyes seem to pierce my skin and his demented laugh only gets louder as he reaches for me. Not again! I scream.

  I wake up under my blanket, screaming for my life. Sweat pours off me and tears fall quickly from my makeup-smeared eyes. I quickly touch my face to make sure that I am really here, underneath the bridge, far from my past, far away from Johnny.

  What the hell was that? I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a nightmare that extreme, especially about Johnny. Not for years, I’d say. Why would I even dream up such a thing? Why now?

  That damn Jonah, he brought this to the surface! What good is that? I was managing well without the memory, and now it’s here with me again. See, that’s why I don’t know if a visit to Jonah this afternoon is such a good idea. I mean, maybe he can help me – but do I really need it? And why is he stirring up old memories, things I’d rather just forget about? If you ask me, it’s not a good thing at all. It will probably only make me feel worse.

  The only reason that I would go see him today is for the food. If I manage to take in a good hearty dinner, I will be set until tomorrow afternoon. Whatever saves money works for me. I hear the City Community Center has great meals sometimes, like fried chicken and beef stew. And I miss fried chicken. I’m not quite sure yet, but I may go down there later this afternoon after all.

  Until then, I’m not sure what I will do. I might go to the park and take a walk. It’s never too crowded there, so I don’t draw attention to myself. Drawing attention to me is one thing I really try not to do. I can’t handle all the empty stares and implied criticism. I may look funny in my ratty clothing, but I’m still a human being with feelings.

  The park is huge. It holds a giant pond where many ducks and geese rest. It might sound lame, but I like to sit on the benches and watch them as they go about their day. It relaxes me a little, I guess. They are so innocent and free, and don’t need to worry about anything. And if they get tired of where they are, they simply fly away. I wish I could do that. Fly away to a place where I can be normal again, or anywhere I want for that matter.

  Some days I try to go to the library. Well, I think about going, but never do. Again, strangers stare too much and it makes me uncomfortable. It is probably weird for them, though, seeing me. I guess it’s abnormal to see a prostitute picking up a book or two, but there is no law saying that because I work on the streets I can’t read. Although I’m sure many can’t.

  I miss reading. I haven’t picked up a book in over a year. Books used to be my escape. Now I have no escape whatsoever, just reality. The reality of my life isn’t so great, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now. It is what it is.

  Hours have passed, and I’m on my way to the Community Center. I’m not looking forward to it. I hate the walls of Jonah’s office. They feel like they close in on me, and I’m not looking forward to his stupid questions, either. But right now that doesn’t matter. I need something to eat and I’d rather not pay for it if I don’t have to.

  The walk to the Center is a little unpleasant, because I have to pass through the poor side of the city, where everyone avoids eye contact. People have been killed out here, just because they might have looked at someone the wrong way. I’ve never had a problem, though – I just make sure that I keep my eyes to the ground.

  It’s sad actually. I hear this area used to be the centre of entertainment. Music shops, coffee houses and diners attracted many, before the crime rate increased and a group of gangs moved in. Most of the gangs out this way are affiliated with Big Jon’s business – another reason why I try to walk unnoticed.

  He has a secluded warehouse a few blocks down from the centre. A warehouse that holds pounds upon pounds of cocaine and meth, not to mention a load of weapons. As far as I know he has never been spotted by the authorities, so I guess his tactics work – as far as him staying hidden is concerned.

  I managed to see the inside of his warehouse once. Of course Elijah was in there loads of times, once he started working for Jon. How I wish I could turn back the hands of time, but it’s too late for that now.

  It was about two months ago when Elijah and I walked into that warehouse. Two long months ago.

  On the night before the meeting I ran into Jon on the corner of Benz Street where I was working. Secretly I prayed that I wouldn’t ever see him again. I didn’t want to go out of my way to hook Elijah up with him. But no such luck.

  I remember it well, because work was scarce that night. It was too quiet. Most of the girls on my block walked to another area where they were sure they could find work. But I decided to stay. It’s always better for me to work alone anyway. Steering clear of a group of girls makes it much easier for me to get picked up anyway, and yet stay unnoticed.

  That night, a couple of hours passed until I heard the sound of life. A sound system was blaring and only got louder as a black Cadillac Escalade cre
pt towards the intersection where I was standing. It was so loud, in fact, that I could feel the vibration of the bass against my skin.

  I knew who owned the truck right away, with its chrome twenty inch rims and dark, tinted windows – Big Jon. He is the only person out on this block to own a decent car. Everyone else either uses public transportation or travels on foot. This is another reason why he stands out in the neighbourhood.

  Anyway, he parked his Cadillac a few feet away from me, with the stereo system still blaring. Two young kids dressed in black, probably no more than seventeen years old, walked across the street to greet him. Jon stepped out of the car and talked to the boys briefly, before they handed over two brown paper bags. I figured the kids probably worked for him and were handing over their daily earnings.

  Jon is in no way suffering for money. He takes the majority of the earnings, only leaving a small percentage for his workers. But when you are a kid, that small percentage seems like a lot of dough. That is exactly what Elijah thought, not thinking about the consequences. Money seems to rule the world.

  After the kids left, I couldn’t help myself. I gathered enough courage to talk to him. He didn’t notice me at first because he was busy stashing something in his truck. I decided to walk towards him, in the hope that he would realise I was there. It only took a moment.

  “Damn, girl! I didn’t see you standin’ there,” he said, as if shocked to see me. “You quiet as a mouse,” he said, setting his baseball cap straight. “Gettin’ work?”

  “Nothin’ to brag about,” I remember saying. “Tonight is slower than ever. How’s your business?”

  “You know everything is always gravy, baby!” he replied with a chuckle.

  We talked briefly about nothing remotely serious. I remember him joking around about my work in a way that irritated me, but I didn’t dare show that it was getting to me.

  While we were talking, Elijah kept coming to mind. I really didn’t want to help him get into trouble with Jon, but that was his decision, right? I should’ve stood my ground, but I didn’t. I wanted to give Elijah what he wanted, just because I wanted to please him.

  Before Jon got back into his Escalade, I decided to ask him if he was looking for help. At first he thought that I was inquiring for myself, which only made him laugh. He told me that he didn’t work with tricks. I hate that word.

  I had to force myself to laugh along with him for a minute, before telling him that I was asking for a friend of mine. He seemed to be a little leery about the idea, but agreed to meet with Elijah the following night to talk. He knew I was someone who kept my head down, kept out of trouble. I guess he thought Elijah would be the same. Then, he looked dead serious.

  “You better not be playin’ with me,” he said.

  The tone of his voice made my insides turn. I was scared for Elijah, and even then that should’ve given me a fair warning about what could happen – and what eventually did happen.

  I really have to stop thinking about it, but I can’t. It’s my fault Elijah is gone.

  CHAPTER 5

  Jonah decides to let me eat alone in his office, before he will once again start badgering me about my past. I haven’t figured out if talking about it is a good thing or a bad thing. So many memories are ones I’d rather keep hidden, because I don’t want to feel that pain all over again.

  The walls aren’t welcoming, seeming even colder than before. My anxiety is already building, causing my skin to crawl. Part of me wants to run out of here. Who’s to say he will help me? Besides, no one in my entire lifetime has cared about what happens to me; how is this going to be different? Initially someone may seem to be devoted to helping kids, or helping anyone in general for that matter. But when it gets too tough, they walk away and never look back – in my experience anyway.

  By the time Jonah walks in to his office I am on my last piece of chicken. I ate more food today than I have in a long time, which has caused me to feel a bit nauseous. Actually, I’m not sure whether it’s the large amount of food that’s made me feel sick, or the thought of having to relive the memories.

  He sits behind his desk paging through a spiral bound notebook, finally stopping once he reaches a blank page.

  “I’m so glad you decided to come see me again Savannah,” he smiles. “I was hoping you would.”

  I adjust myself in the chair, slumping down even more.

  “Thanks for the chicken.”

  “The chicken is one of my favorite choices that they have here. Of course, if you eat it every day it gets boring fast,” he laughs.

  I didn’t laugh, nor smile. I don’t care if he likes the chicken. What’s the point in small talk? Just get to it, so I can get out of here. Or at least tell me what you think you can do for me. What’s the use in dragging it out?

  “So I’d like to hear a little more about you, Savannah. Your past, and how you ended up out here,” he finally says. “I have a couple hours, so maybe we can finish this up today, so tomorrow I can try to find you a place somewhere. If you’d like.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I respond.

  “The truth about you.”

  “I don’t know, man – I mean it’s nothin’ great, and I don’t know what you are gonna do for me,” I say.

  “Well even if you decide you don’t want my help, it’s good to talk. But I want to help you.”

  Is he a joke? I guess I can’t say much, because I am sitting in this office. I didn’t have to come. Maybe a part of me believes that he can help me, but another part of me tells me to run away fast. That’s all I ever do, though. Maybe it’s time for me to change a little. I don’t know.

  I’m not sure where I left off the last time I was here. I get mixed up often, and my mind has been playing tricks on me lately. I think I was talking about nasty Johnny, and leaving my mama’s house.

  Once I left Mama I was immediately placed at Cedar Farm’s Home for Girls. Obviously it was new to me and I was scared to death. I did miss my mama, but the relief at not having to face more abuse from Johnny somehow made up for that. I didn’t know what to expect either or how I would get along with everyone, because I’d never been liked by anyone.

  Cedar Farm is about five hours from the city, in the middle of nowhere. The building looked more like a log home, and didn’t seem big enough for the fifteen girls it housed. It was surrounded by trees, on a large amount of land. I don’t know how much, but the yard never seemed to end, no matter how deep into the woods you travelled. The immediate backyard was a playground, with swings and a hamster wheel – which was my favorite. It also had a separate building which was used as a school for us girls.

  The range of ages varied, from seven years old to twelve. Their hope at the farm was to have everyone adopted, so we wouldn’t have to be placed at another home, a foster home, when we reached thirteen. The idea wasn’t bad, but in my entire time there I only saw one girl get taken in by a family.

  The workers there weren’t the greatest either. It seemed to be a task for them to work with us, as if they just wanted to go home to be with their families. That’s how I felt anyways.

  Once I got there I was looked at as the outcast immediately. No one wanted to be my friend. They all stayed in their groups and laughed at me, joking about how no one wanted me. That comment stuck with me every day, even though I didn’t understand how they could say such a thing, because they were at the same place I was. But at nine years old those comments can really dig deep and stay there for good.

  We had daily chores, which weren’t so bad I guess. We were assigned to different jobs every week, like cleaning the main bathroom or our living quarters. Somehow, I ended up doing most of it, being bullied by Endya who beat me up quite a few times.

  Endya was a very big ten year old who had a horrible attitude. She ran the place, managing to keep everyone else as her friend. She would order the other girls around and told them to stay away from me. Why? Because I was ugly. I don’t remember how that came about, b
ut it was like that until she left.

  In comparison with all the other kids I wasn’t so different, so I don’t know why I was the one being called ugly – they didn’t look all that pleasant either. Granted, at first I did have mismatched clothing and was the smallest of the group, with long scrawny legs that peeked out through the bottom of my pants. Eventually the staff bought me some new clothing, so I didn’t look that bad anymore.

  I would say my time there was mostly horrible, but only because of Endya. Right when I woke up she would start with me, laughing and pointing, and forcing me to do her work – if I didn’t, she would beat me up.

  Sometimes at lunch she would knock my plate out of my hands. I would stand there utterly embarrassed as the food went crashing to the floor. Often tears filled my eyes, but I would force them back – if only to avoid even more laughter from all the girls who were staring at me.

  My memories tend to run together, but from the time I spent at the Farm, one major event stands out. Of course, it had to do with Endya.

  It was around lunch time when it happened. It’s hard to remember what day it was, but I know it was on a weekend, because I was outside cleaning up the leaves on the playground. I was minding my own business when Endya came around, knocking over the leaves that I had neatly pushed into a pile. I stood there with the rake in my hand, avoiding eye contact. I learned fast that if you don’t make eye contact, they will more than likely go away or leave you alone.

  Anyway, after she knocked over the leaves I’d just raked, she stood there staring at me with an almost evil grin on her face.

  “Hey, chicken legs.”

  I didn’t respond. I stood there gazing at nothing really, my eyes to the ground.