One Day Soon

by A. Meredith Walters

  I turned in his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my forehead against his. “You can have me every day.”

  I wrote his date of birth down in the required space.

  “Last physical address?” I went on.

  “I don’t think there’s an actual street name for where I was living,” Yoss replied neutrally.

  “Well, where was it? I can make note of it.”

  “Do you still wear the necklace?” he asked out of the blue.

  My hand flew up to the small lump underneath my shirt, pulling the chain free of my collar. My fingers hiding the red figure.

  “I still can’t believe I found it. Do you remember? That day at the flea market? You were getting all girlie about that weird doll—”

  “The Kimber doll. From Jem and the Holograms,” I interrupted.

  “Yeah, well you were all giggly and cute about it. You freaked when you saw it. I told you to take it, but you wouldn’t.” Yoss shook his head, then winced at the movement. “You always had way more scruples than the rest of us.”

  “I just never saw the point of stealing something that I didn’t really need,” I pointed out. I didn’t want to look at him, but I couldn’t help myself. His smile was sweet.

  “Then I found it. The necklace. It was sitting there, underneath these ugly, yellow doilies. It was like a sign or something. Do you remember what I told you?” he pressed.

  My chest felt tight, my heart felt full. “You said that it would be like having a piece of you with me always. Because it’s the symbol from the cover of that book,” I said quietly, touching the hard lump again.

  “Catch-22,” Yoss said, sounding pleased that I remembered.

  I met Yoss’s eyes. Bright, fevered green burning. “And you’re still wearing it,” he said.

  I nodded, tucking the necklace back in place.

  “Why, Imogen? Why do you still wear it?” he asked.

  Why?

  I glanced back at the assessment I was filling out and pressed my lips into a thin line. “Now who’s using our history to manipulate?” I murmured.

  Yoss didn’t say anything else about the necklace.

  “Last physical address?” I asked again, sticking to the words on the paper.

  “I was living in the woods by the river. Near The Pavilion. Do you remember that place?” he asked.

  “Of course I do,” I said tersely.

  “There’s an old house not far from there. I was living with a few people for a while.”

  “Oh? Who were you living with?” Being homeless created intense bonds between people. We had fallen in love extremely fast by most people standards. But days had felt like weeks. Weeks like months. Survival had you clinging to those around you, scared that you would lose them like you had lost everything else.

  It wasn’t surprising to hear that Yoss had found others to hold on to. But had he loved since he had loved me?

  Why wouldn’t he have?

  I had gotten married after all. Had tried to have children.

  I hadn’t been celibate since we were together.

  It only made sense that Yoss had been with someone. Lots of someones maybe. Not counting the men…

  “You wouldn’t know them. Just some people I met a few years ago. A guy named Perry. There was also a woman named Gail.”

  “Where are Perry and Gail now?” I asked, the question sticking in my throat. Was he with Gail? It wasn’t any of my business. It didn’t have any bearing on the services I was trying to coordinate for him.

  But it mattered.

  Of course it did.

  “Perry’s in jail. As for Gail, I don’t know where she is. We lost track of each other a couple of weeks ago.” Yoss was chewing on his lip. He appeared agitated.

  “How did you end up under the bridge the other night?”

  Yoss picked at a scab on the back of his hand. “I needed money.” He shrugged. “Just a one off. Something to get me back on my feet for a while until I found something else. I still know the tricks. Where to go.”

  “So you found…someone who would pay you for—?” I couldn’t say it. Shit. Where was my patented professionalism when I needed it?

  Yoss picked, picked at his skin. “You don’t want to hear about this, Imi.”

  “I have to hear about it. It’s my job,” I argued.

  “Your job. Right.” Yoss laughed without any humor.

  “It’s more than my job and you know it.” I bowed my head.

  I heard his quiet exhale as he fidgeted restlessly in the bed.

  “I hadn’t eaten in a few days. I was feeling like crap, now I know why.” He snorted before continuing, “I knew I needed some money. Gail had taken off and I was by myself in the house. It was cold as fuck and things were looking pretty bleak. I was running out of options. I had almost gotten busted for trying to lift a bag of chips and a Gatorade a couple of days before. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t thinking that clearly.” Yoss cleared his throat.

  I stared down at the paper in my hands. I should take notes. But I couldn’t.

  “The guy was weird. I knew that the minute he approached me. Twitchy. His eyes were all over the place. I had a bad feeling. But I didn’t listen to my instincts. You get used to ignoring them after a while,” Yoss went on.

  I looked up at him and he was staring out the window.

  “He hurt you,” I finished for him.

  Yoss nodded. “He told me to unbuckle my pants and to turn around. It wasn’t an unusual request, so I did as he told me to.”

  My stomach clenched and I tried not to picture what he was telling me.

  “The first blow hit me in the back of the head. I fell to my knees. I remember trying to look up, to see what the hell was going on. But he pushed my face into the gravel and started kicking me. I blacked out after that. But not before he took what he wanted and sure as hell didn’t pay for it.” He was unapologetic. Cold. As if the fact that he had gotten raped and beaten was no big deal.

  “Why didn’t you tell the police any of this?” I asked, putting my pencil down.

  Yoss shrugged. “What would be the point? I’m just another homeless guy hustling to get by. I can’t imagine they’d put a whole lot of effort into finding the dude who raped and beat me. To them it’s not worth the hassle. I don’t need them all up in my business anyway.”

  “But this man needs to be put behind bars for what he did to you!” I exclaimed, though I knew he was right. I wouldn’t tell him about the conversation I had with Detective Preston. Because Yoss was right, the police had no plans to look for his attacker.

  Yoss glanced at me, his eyes tired. His face sad. “He wasn’t the first or the worst, Imi. Just let it be.”

  His resignation broke my heart.

  “You said it was a one off. So you hadn’t been—”

  “No. Not for years. I got out of that lifestyle. I had to. I made a promise.” His face was flushed and his breathing was a little labored.

  He had made a promise. To me. Had he really tried to keep it? Even though he had left me? After what I had seen?

  “Look, I’m tired. Do you mind if we finish this later?” he asked, closing his eyes.

  I wanted to ask him more questions, but I could tell he didn’t have the energy for it.

  “Of course. That’s fine. You should rest anyway.” I started to gather my things.

  “Do you think—” Yoss began, but then stopped, his throat working as he swallowed. I paused what I was doing.

  “What?”

  He kept his eyes closed and I could sense his hesitance. “What?” I asked again.

  “Do you think you could stay for a while? Not to ask me a bunch of questions. Just to keep me company.” He sounded embarrassed to be asking.

  “You want me to keep you company?”

  “If you’ve got other stuff to do, I understand. Forget I asked,” he said defensively.

  “No. Of course I don’t mind. I’d love to,” I cut in.

  Yoss r
elaxed and settled back into his pillows. He let out a long, deep breath that he seemed to have been holding for a while.

  “Thanks,” he grimaced.

  “Of course.” Haltingly, I leaned over and took his hand. I wanted to touch him. Just for a minute. I couldn’t help myself.

  Yoss tensed, but then his fingers laced with mine.

  Like he had done a hundred times before.

  But we weren’t young and in love anymore.

  We were older. We had developed thick, impenetrable walls. Time had changed the both of us.

  And looking at his battered body and feeling the beat of my wounded heart, it didn’t seem to be for the better.

  Yoss fell asleep holding my hand. And I continued to sit there, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

  I stayed much longer than I should have.

  Because I couldn’t bear letting him go again.

  Fifteen Years Ago

  “Oh my god, Imi! There you are!” Amanda squealed running towards me, almost tripping over the rocks in her hurry to get to me.

  I was hanging out underneath the bridge waiting for Yoss. He had disappeared a few hours ago when Manny had come looking for him.

  He had changed his shirt, brushed out his hair, and had left with a kid that looked to be about thirteen.

  I had stopped asking where he went.

  We never talked about it.

  He tried to hide the bruises. The cigarette burns on his legs and arms. The black eye and busted lip were never mentioned.

  I didn’t ask him about the handful of dollar bills he’d use to buy us milkshakes and hamburgers.

  But I hated it when he was gone. I spent the time worrying about him. Wondering if that was the day he wouldn’t come back. I wasn’t completely naïve. I knew the dangers of what he was doing. The risk of being badly hurt, or worse.

  Yoss tried to conceal his shame. But I saw it. Each and every time he came back to me, it was painted on him. Mixed with the smell of sex and cigarette smoke that coated his skin like a stain.

  In those hours after he crawled under the covers beside me, he would touch my hand, run his fingers through my hair, press himself against me, as though I were the only thing that could make him feel clean again.

  Sometimes Yoss would have nightmares that left him tossing and turning and crying out in his sleep. It was only when I put my arms around him that he settled down and fell into some semblance of rest.

  I hated those hours after he came back to me. He was a shell. Shattered pieces of the boy he had been when he left.

  But they were the only times I was allowed to hold him the way I wanted to. It was also when I knew how bad things were for him.

  So I waited for him to come back. I sat underneath the bridge, huddled in my sweatshirt, warming myself by the fire in the trashcan Bug had lit a little while ago. It was an unseasonably chilly evening in July.

  Di and Shane were riding their skateboards and Karla was smoking a joint with some guys down by the river.

  When I heard my name being called, I froze in shock. I hadn’t seen any of my friends in almost a month. I had scrounged up some change to call Amanda a few times, but she had never followed through on her promise to come see me. Until tonight.

  I got up and turned around to see my friend running towards me in too high heels and a skirt that was dangerously close to revealing parts of her anatomy that were best left covered. Obviously the cool weather wasn’t going to stop her from dressing in as little as possible.

  “Oh my god! Imi, you look horrible!” Amanda shrieked and I cringed. Amanda was always too loud and too much.

  I noticed Karla glancing our way, a smirk on her face. I could only imagine what she’d say about Amanda later.

  I took my friend by the elbow and steered her away from the crowd that lurked too close. “What are you doing here?” I asked, casting a nervous glance around. Girls like Amanda stood out like a sore thumb in the dark, gritty world I now lived in. Her overly styled hair and expensively distressed clothes made it clear that she didn’t belong.

  Amanda frowned, apparently not pleased with my less than enthusiastic greeting. “I came to see how you were doing. I miss you.”

  I let out a humorless bark of laughter. “How I’m doing? Well I’m still alive, so I guess that’s something.”

  “Where did you get those clothes?” Amanda made a face, curling her lip in disgust. As if my outfit were the most important thing to address.

  I ignored her comment. It was that or pull my hair out.

  “What are you doing here? Did you come to hang out with the homeless kids? That sounds like a good night out,” I sneered.

  “Wow, someone has been drinking the bitterly resentful Kool-Aid. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she snipped, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder and casting a look around. “I mean, what’s it like?” she whispered, seeming worried.

  I sighed and sat down on a pile of crumpled cinder blocks, tucking my knees up under my chin. “It sucks,” I told her honestly, dropping the attitude.

  Amanda hopped up beside me, bumping my shoulder with hers. “You haven’t been hurt or anything have you?” She chewed on her bottom lip and looked downright worried.

  Not that I blamed her. The sun was starting to set and people were beginning to congregate in groups. Smoke filtered up into the sky, music played from stereos.

  At first glance it looked like a party.

  Once you peered closer you realized it was anything but.

  This was a grasping, desperate existence.

  “No. I haven’t been hurt. But I’m always scared I will be. The Pit—”

  “The Pit?” Amanda interrupted, confused.

  “It’s what everyone calls the warehouse on Summit,” I told her.

  “Cheery name. I didn’t realize that’s what it was called,” Amanda muttered, pulling her skirt down self-consciously.

  “You’ve never been inside, Mandy. If you had, you’d understand the name.” I picked at a piece of thread on my shirt. It was dirty and smelled like unwashed skin. I knew what I looked like without needing a mirror. I knew that there were dark circles under my eyes and my skin, which had always been clear, was riddled with dirt and pimples from not washing enough. My hair, which had always been a source of pride, was greasy and held back in a sloppy bun.

  At one time I would never have been caught dead looking the way that I did. But now, it wasn’t even a concern.

  “When was the last time you ate?” Amanda asked.

  “I had stuff this morning. There’s this guy—”

  “A guy? Oh is he cute?” Amanda’s face brightened in relief as she maneuvered the conversation into normal girl talk. She giggled and I rolled my eyes. Only my friend could focus on the totally shallow while discussing my being homeless.

  “Yes, he’s cute, but that’s not the point,” I replied primly.

  “Of course it’s the point. You may be homeless, but you still have your girlie parts,” Amanda pointed out.

  “Anyway, his name is Yoss, and he’s sort of been helping me out. He watches out for me. Makes sure I eat. He got me some deodorant and toothpaste,” I explained.

  “Nothing says I’m hot for you like toiletries. I get it,” Amanda teased. I felt myself getting frustrated, even though I knew it wasn’t fair. Amanda was only trying to be nice, but I couldn’t help but be annoyed by her ignorance.

  “You don’t get it. He makes sure that no one messes with me. That first night someone would have hurt me. But he made sure nothing happened. He’s…well, he’s special.”

  “Oh my god, Imogen. You can’t stay out here,” Amanda said, her hands wringing together. The momentary levity was long gone.

  “I have nowhere else to go,” I reminded her, wishing it weren’t true.

  “You could go home—”

  “She hasn’t come looking for me, Mandy,” I said quietly. “I’ve been gone a month. Do you think she even cares that I’m gone?”
It was a rhetorical question. I didn’t expect a response.

  From the look on Amanda’s face, she knew the answer as well as I did.

  “I saw her last week,” Amanda mentioned, watching the kids ride their skateboards up and down the ramp.

  “You saw my mom?” I asked, hating how hopeful I sounded.

  Amanda nodded, turning her attention back to me. “She was at the mall with whatshisface.”

  “Adam,” I filled in.

  “Yeah, the guy who is way too young and way too hot for her,” Amanda complained.

  “What were they doing?” My voice sounded small.

  Amanda hesitated.

  “It’s okay. You can tell me,” I coaxed. I was pretty sure that whatever Amanda had to say wouldn’t hurt me anymore than I was already hurting.

  I was wrong.

  “They were buying a bunch of new clothes. Your mom was all dressed up. She looked good actually. Happy.”

  Knife one to the gut.

  “Oh. Okay,” I said slowly.

  Amanda gave me a sympathetic look. “She saw me and said hello. She asked me what I was doing with my summer. I mentioned that I had spoken to you.”

  I swallowed thickly, feeling ill. “What did she say?”

  My friend put her hand on top of mine and squeezed. “She didn’t say anything. Didn’t bat an eyelash. Nothing. She carried on talking about some place Adam was taking her over the weekend. She fucking giggled, Imi. Giggled! It pissed me off so much that I wanted to slap her. But I figured I didn’t want to get arrested or anything so I just walked away before I could claw her eyes out.”

  We were both quiet for a long time. I shouldn’t have been surprised by what Amanda told me. I knew my mother didn’t care. But the confirmation burned. It maimed. It tore me apart.

  “I can talk to my dad again, tell him you need somewhere to stay. Maybe he’ll understand—”

  “I don’t want to put you in that position, Mandy, but thanks. I’m fine out here.”

  I didn’t believe me and I knew Amanda didn’t either.

  “You can’t stay out here forever, though. What will you do when it gets cold? When it snows? What will you do when school starts in September?”

  I felt agitated. She was asking all the questions I hadn’t dared think about. Not yet. I was simply trying to get through each day. The future seemed like some distant idea that was just out of reach.