Roam

by C. H. Armstrong

  Too soon, the song ends and I release the last note, and listen as my voice echoes over the audience. Then, opening my eyes, I smile and dip into a deep bow. The audience erupts in applause and nearly everyone rises to their feet.

  “OH MY GOSH, Abby! That was amazing!” Tera squeals as she, Wendy, and Josh storm the stage. “I’d heard you were good, but wow!”

  “Thanks.” My face hurts from smiling, but it’s a wonderful kind of hurt.

  “That was—I have no words!” Wendy chimes in.

  “You kicked ass, Ariel!” Josh says. “Did you see Trish’s face? I wish I’d taken a picture!”

  “I didn’t see anything—I had my eyes closed,” I admit.

  “It was hilarious!” Tera laughs. “Her jaw dropped wide open. Karma, baby!”

  “Watch your back, Ariel,” Josh warns. “She was totally humiliated and will be out for blood.”

  “I’ve got your back.” Zach pulls me to his side. “Don’t worry about Trish.”

  Before I can respond, a tiny body flies at me, knocking me off balance and out of Zach’s embrace. I stagger backward, grabbing ahold of Josh and pulling him with me, his body cushioning my fall as we slide into a heap on the floor.

  “Sister!” Amber’s tiny body is wrapped entirely around mine.

  “Whoa!” Josh laughs, his voice muffled by my armpit. “This must be Elsa.”

  Amber eyes Josh and scowls. “Am not! I’m Amber!”

  “Just go with it,” I say.

  “Nuh-uh!” She stands tall and places her fists on her hips, her chin high and defiant.

  “Get up, Ariel,” Josh groans. “You’re killing me. And seriously—did you put on deodorant?”

  “Very funny.” I scoot onto the floor beside him.

  “She’s not Ariel!” Amber tips her chin and looks at Josh down her tiny nose. “Who are you?”

  Mom and Nick approach, and Nick extends his hand to help me stand then does the same for Josh. Standing to his full height, Josh puffs out his chest and puts his fists on his hips in an imitation of Amber.

  “I’m Walt,” he says.

  I blurt out a laugh.

  Amber rolls her eyes. “You’re weird, Walt.”

  “Abby, honey!” Mom interrupts, her eyes filled with tears. “That was—I don’t know what to say! I’ve never heard you sing like that! I mean, I’ve heard you sing dozens of times, but never like that! It was… special.”

  Nick hands Mom a tissue and offers me a grin that says, “That’s your mom for you.” He pulls me into a hug. “I’m proud of you, kiddo. You did good.”

  Nick’s eyes are suspiciously wet and the defeat he’s carried around for weeks is missing. Though he’s always treated me like his own, it’s the first time I fully understand that, to him, I am his daughter—not just because he married my mom.

  I swallow a lump in my throat. “Thanks, Nick.”

  “It’s getting late and we need to get Amber home.” Mom wipes away her tears. “Are you about ready?”

  “One second.” I turn back to my friends. “See you guys tomorrow?”

  Josh, Tera and Wendy say goodbye, leaving me standing with my family and Zach.

  “Can I walk you out?” Zach asks.

  I nod. “I was hoping you would.”

  None of us say anything as we walk to the van. None of us except Amber, that is, who pleads with Zach for a piggyback ride. Never able to tell her no, he crouches low and she climbs on, choking his neck as he carries her to the van.

  “Giddyup, horsey!” she cries.

  Mom rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. “Amber, get in the van, please, and give Sister a minute to say goodbye to Zach.”

  Zach crouches low and Amber jumps down. “Aw, man! That wasn’t a very long ride!”

  “Catch me tomorrow and I’ll make it up to you,” he tells her.

  “Deal!” she says, climbing into the van.

  I close her door and turn to Zach. “Thank you.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “For what?”

  “For everything. For practicing with me, for standing by me, for keeping me grounded so I didn’t freak out. Everything.”

  Zach squeezes my hands. “I told you I have your back.”

  I bite my lip. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Not if I see you first.” He pulls me in for a kiss.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  MOM AND I STAND IN THE KITCHEN, WAITING ON A FROZEN PIZZA IN THE OVEN. WHEN WE RETURNED from the concert, Nick and Amber headed straight to the showers, leaving us to worry about dinner. Adrenaline has been my constant companion since we left the school, and I’ve been unable to come back down from my high. Thankfully, the ice of the last six months has thawed considerably between Mom and me, and—much like the old days before everything fell apart—she insists on experiencing the evening vicariously through my eyes. I’m not sure which of us I’m humoring as I relate to her every moment of the last two hours.

  “I can’t even describe it in words!” I say. “I couldn’t see the audience, but I could feel their energy—their support!”

  Mom reaches into the oven and removes the pizza. A flash of color catches my attention. “Nick—” I begin, but my voice dies in my throat. My body trembles and my heart thuds like a stampede of horses. The large body filling the doorway isn’t Nick’s. I open my mouth, but no sound follows. Mom hasn’t seen him yet, but Jim Kaspar, Director of Christian Education, stands six feet away in the kitchen doorway.

  Some people refer to Jim as the Associate Pastor. He’s second in command and knows everything that happens in this church. Except, of course, that we’ve been squatting in the basement. His eyes are wide, his expression one of shock.

  “Excuse me,” he says.

  Mom turns and drops the pan on the floor. She ignores it and stares at Jim, her eyes wide and her hands shaking. She sways on her feet. Jim leaps toward her and leads her to a chair.

  “Sit, please,” he says, helping her into the chair. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I—I didn’t expect to find anyone here.”

  Mom stares at him and I worry she might go into shock.

  “Mom?” I say.

  Jim takes the oven mitts from her hands and picks up the pizza pan from the floor. The pizza is still edible, but I doubt any of us will be hungry tonight.

  Jim returns to her side and runs a hand through the stubble of his hair. “I left some paperwork on my desk and came back to get it. I heard voices—I guess I didn’t know what I expected to find. Are you okay?”

  Mom nods, but her eyes are vacant. She stares at Jim without speaking. Beside her, I’m rooted to the floor, mute in my own shock.

  “Claire, I think?” he asks. “We met several weeks ago. You’re Nick’s wife—our janitor?”

  “Yes.” Mom nods.

  “I’m sorry I startled you. Where’s Nick?”

  “He—he’s taking a shower.”

  He nods. “I see. Why don’t we sit down and talk.”

  “I need…” Mom scans the room. “I need to get Nick.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you go find him, and I’ll wait here. Your daughter can keep me company while we wait.”

  Mom stands, her movements stiff as though sleepwalking. “I—I’ll get him.”

  When she disappears into the men’s locker room, Jim turns to me. “Let’s chat while we wait.”

  I follow him to a long table inside the gym and sit across from him. I’m at a loss for words. He’s being so polite—too polite for having found a family squatting in the basement. I stare at the table and examine my fingernails.

  “How long have you been here?” he asks gently.

  “Almost two weeks.”

  He nods. “What did you do before that?”

  I clear my throat, pausing while my mind searches for the right words.

  Jim’s eyes hold mine. “I need you to trust me because I’d like to help if I can.”

  I take a breath and wipe away the first of many tears that will fall this night. I
surprise myself at how swiftly the words come rushing out. I tell Jim how we were so cold sleeping in the van, and what a luxury it felt like to have a hot shower at the Dorothy Day House before they kicked us out at the end of our two weeks. How I worry every day whether my lunch card will work at school, and whether my friends will abandon me if they ever find out. I cry as I tell him how sick Amber and I were, and how scared I was the day we shivered alone in the van. I explain how living here has been so much better, even though we have to wake up when it’s still dark outside so we don’t get caught. And I tell him how none of this was supposed to happen, how we’re roaming around from place to place and it all just seems to be getting worse and I don’t see when or how we’ll ever get out of it.

  I finish, with my head down, tears falling into my lap. When I look up, Jim’s eyes are filled with tears, and Mom, Amber, and Nick stand like statues in the doorway. Nick’s hair is wet and drops of water seep through his T-shirt where he hasn’t dried off properly. His eyebrows are scrunched together and his lips are drawn down at the corners. He straightens his shoulders and approaches us. “Jim, I—”

  Jim holds up a hand. “Let’s sit down and talk about it. Your daughter explained quite a bit, but I have some questions about how you came to be…”

  “Homeless,” Nick supplies. “You can say it, Jim. It’s too late for embarrassment or offense. It is what it is.”

  He nods. “Homeless.”

  Nick and Mom take seats next to me, and Nick tells Jim the parts I left out. Again, Jim allows Nick the dignity of telling his whole story. I space out, tiptoeing back in time.

  THREE WEEKS BEFORE THE MOVE

  Mom’s sobs bleed through the thin walls of my bedroom, distracting me from the book I’m reading. I glance at the clock—11:47 p.m. I should’ve been asleep by now, but I kept telling myself, “Just one more chapter.” Another sob reaches my ears and I huff out a breath. It’s not the first time I’ve heard Mom cry lately, and the sound grates on me.

  I push my feet from under the covers and creep toward the door. Turning the knob, I ease it open and peek through the narrow slit. Nick holds Mom in his arms, rubbing her back in a soothing motion. His flannel shirt muffles her words, so I open the door wider and squat low so they don’t see me.

  “They just closed the doors and turned everybody away?” Mom cries. “Without notice—without telling anyone?”

  “That’s exactly what they did.” Nick’s body screams defeat. “Twelve years I’ve worked for them—ten more for some of the guys—and this is how they treat us.”

  “How did you not know?” Mom asked. “There must’ve been signs.”

  “Only when they cut my hours, but it was supposed to be temporary.”

  “Did they say anything?” she asks.

  Nick shakes his head. “Not a word. We showed up to open the garage this morning and found a Post-it Note on the door saying they’d filed for bankruptcy.”

  Mom chokes on another sob. “What are we going to do? We’ve already sold everything of value, and we still owe thousands to the hospital. Not to mention the rent—Chloye’s already been here twice to collect.”

  “Twice?” Nick’s shock is evident.

  Mom won’t meet his eyes. “Last week when the girls were home alone was the second time. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I thought I’d have a job by now and could fix it, leaving you one less thing to worry about.”

  “Dammit, Claire! This is something I needed to know.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  He runs his fingers through his hair.

  “What do we do now?” Mom asks.

  “I don’t know. But this is bad. They’ve warned us twice, and that’s more than enough notice for eviction.”

  “What are you saying?” Mom asks. “They can’t just throw us out!”

  “They can and they will. They’re only required to give us a three days’ notice. Even if we fight it, we’re only buying—at most—two weeks. Nebraska law has no tolerance for unpaid rent—they almost always favor the landlord.”

  “How do you know that?” she asks.

  “I told you I was homeless before, right after high school when my parents died. I swore I’d never be here again.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nick,” Mom says. “This whole thing is my fault—everything that’s happened since that damned Snapchat.”

  Nick breathes out. “It’s done, Claire. We can play the blame game, but right now we gotta get our ducks in a row.”

  “What do we do?”

  He shrugs. “We plan for the future as best we can.”

  “Which means…?”

  “I don’t know—maybe we move to Rochester.”

  “Minnesota?” she asks. “How does that help?”

  Nick blows out a breath. “We can’t stay here—there’s nothing left for us here anymore. Abby’s miserable, and you’ll never get another teaching job anywhere near this area. After everything that’s happened, maybe a new start would be best for all of us.”

  “Okay, fine—but why Rochester? It’s at least a five-hour drive and the winters are even worse than here.”

  “I grew up near there, so I know the community reasonably well. Unless things have changed, they have established programs to help us get back on our feet. Plus, if I’m gonna be homeless again, I’d rather choose where.”

  Silence echoes like a tomb. I cover my mouth with both hands, holding in a gasp of disbelief. Scalding tears race down my face and drop onto my nightshirt. Using the doorframe for support, I stand and slip back into my bedroom.

  NICK FINISHES HIS explanation, and Jim’s forehead crinkles. Silence echoes in the cavernous gym.

  “What are you going to do?” Mom asks.

  Jim shakes his head. “I can’t send you back to your van. Not tonight in this weather, at least. I know you, Nick, and I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t do that to anyone.”

  “And tomorrow?” Nick asks. “What happens then?”

  Jim sighs. “We come up with a better solution.”

  “We can’t go back out there. Please—” Nick’s voice is desperate, and I hate the begging quality in his tone. Nick’s always been a proud man, and nobody should ever have to beg for shelter.

  “No, I agree.” Jim massages his temples with two fingers. “Our first priority is getting your family out of the cold. I’ll make some calls in the morning. Evangel is part of an interfaith hospitality network with fourteen other churches. Together, we find solutions for homeless families. I’ll start there and see if I can get you enrolled in it.”

  “What is it, exactly?” Nick asks.

  “It’s a program where we rotate the ‘hosting’ of homeless families. Each church handles it a little differently but, generally speaking, your family is invited to live at one of the churches for a week. A family from that church is assigned as your hosts, and they provide food and cook meals with you, their kids play with your kids, and sometimes they even help with homework. They basically try to provide a normal family experience. When the week is over, the guest families rotate together to the next church for one week, and so on until we can help you find permanent housing.”

  “Why didn’t they tell us this at the Salvation Army when they gave us a list of services?” Mom asks.

  “Because space is limited, and it’s by clergy recommendation only. In most cases, the families come from within our own congregations. If we’d known earlier, we could’ve recommended your family for the program.”

  “I—it’s not something I wanted to tell more people than we had to,” Nick says.

  Jim nods. “I can understand that. There’s one more thing—and I don’t want you to get your hopes up—but it’s something we can look into. This same network of churches owns a few single-family transitional homes and four units at Winter Resort apartments. I’ll need to look into the details but, if memory serves and if you qualify, they’re rent-free and you can stay for four months. If we can work that out for
you, we can use that time to help you find better jobs while you save money for a deposit on something more permanent.”

  Mom’s eyes glisten. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Jim says. “I’ll make calls and see what I can set up. Once your housing is figured out, then we can work on helping you find jobs that you’re trained to do—something with benefits. I hear you’re a teacher, Claire?”

  Mom nods. “Yes, but I’m not licensed in Minnesota. I thought maybe I could work in a daycare, but I haven’t had any luck. I have other skills, though. I can type, and maybe I could use my math background in some capacity.”

  “That helps to know.” Jim turns his attention to Nick. “And you were a mechanic with the same company for more than ten years, Nick?”

  Nick nods. “Twelve years, until I was let go without notice.”

  “Okay. Let’s see what we can do with that. I think a temporary agency might be where we start for Claire until she can get her state teaching credentials established. I’ll have to think on yours a little longer, Nick. I’m certain we must have someone in our congregation with ties to a local repair shop. Maybe we could approach them discreetly to see if they have anything that might be a good fit for you.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Nick says.

  Jim smiles. “You thank me by finding a way to return the favor to someone else when you’re better established.”

  “Absolutely,” Nick agrees.

  Jim stands and shakes Nick’s hand. When he extends that same hand to Mom, however, she ignores it, instead wrapping her arms around him.

  “Thank you so much,” she says through tears.

  Jim smiles and hugs her close. “You’re welcome, Claire.”

  We’re left subdued after Jim’s departure, and my earlier excitement has vanished. Though he was more than kind, in a strange way it feels as though we’ve somehow cheated him. I think Mom and Nick feel the same way.