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Another Friday, which means I’ve managed to stay off the streets for another seven days. Maybe you think that’s strange since I’m so close to my mom’s I could walk to her place and be there in half an hour. Maybe you wonder why I haven’t called and asked to stay there while I get back on my feet. Which obviously means you haven’t met her yet.
Mom thinks I’m still living at Chris’s place. She doesn’t know we foreclosed a year ago. When she complained to me that creditors were calling her house looking for me, I made up some excuse about a medical bill insurance had guaranteed to pay. As if I’ve been on any kind of insurance except Medicaid. But of course, you can’t tell that to the widow of Orchard Grove’s first and only Chinese gynecologist. Anyway, the less I think about Mom, the safer I am from another full-fledged attack of depression, so we’ll leave it at that for now.
It’s Friday morning, and I’ve got to meet again with Dr. Jacob this afternoon. She wants me to write out my past, specifically my past with Chris. I have no idea how long she expects it to be. I hate these kinds of assignments. I still don’t know what to tell her, how much of the truth she wants to know. Still don’t know where I can find the energy to make up a story about my husband and the way he may or may not have mistreated me when we were together.
At this point, I’m not even sure it’s worth it. I don’t have to stay at the shelter anymore. There’s a girl I met at Sacred Meadows, Mel. I guess you could say we became friends. She’s gotten herself out of here and told me I could stay with her if I wanted. She’s doing all right. Looks like she may have even kicked that no-good boyfriend of hers out for the last time.
Funny coincidence is we actually went to high school together even though she was three years ahead of me. When we met up again at the shelter, it was awkward at first. I knew she looked familiar, and I could tell she recognized me too, but this isn’t the sort of place where you just walk up to someone and strike up a friendship like if you’d bumped into each other at a coffee shop.
But anyway, we started hanging out in the cafeteria, eating our bland casseroles side by side. She’d dropped out of college, too. And if that’s not enough to have in common, her mom’s a widow living in Orchard Grove Heights. Small world, eh?
So Mel’s been out of the shelter since Wednesday, and she’s doing pretty well for herself. She finally told her deadbeat of a baby daddy to get lost, and who knows? Maybe this time he’ll stay gone for good. She’s sweet to invite me to move in with her, but it’s not just altruism. She’s a bus driver, which is somewhat surprising because she’s five-foot-nothing and all of a hundred and ten pounds. And she sits behind the wheel of this huge yellow school bus, schlepping loud, snot-nosed brats around. Has to get out of the house at 5:30 every morning, and her kids’ daycare is charging her a fortune for the early hours. So she told me that if I watch the kids while she’s on the road, we’ll count that as my room and board.
Win-win, right?
So I’m thinking about it. I know she could use the help. Three kids, two still in diapers. And there’s no way she’ll ever get a nickel out of Kai, that no-good ex of hers. I just don’t know if I can handle being around kids right now, especially the baby. She’s just two months younger than little Gracie ...
I think it might be too much.
But it’s nice to have a fallback plan. Some sort of option. Because if Dr. Jacob puts her foot down, if she realizes I don’t belong at Sacred Meadows, at least I’ll have somewhere to go. I just have to make up my mind before too long or else Mel may find someone else.
Not that I know of too many people desperate enough to share a trailer the size of a studio apartment with a colicky baby, whiney toddler, and painfully inquisitive preschooler. But you never know. I’m not usually one to sit on my hands waiting for life to take care of me. So I’m leaning toward moving in with Mel, but like I said, we’ll see what happens.
I just hope she doesn’t get so nosy with her questions about my past. Mel’s the poster child for an abuse victim, but I’m not. I came to Sacred Meadows because I need a place to sleep, a chance to get back on my feet. My being at this shelter has a lot more to do with my issues and faults than anything Chris said or did to me. See, I told you I could take responsibility for my own actions. I’m not so big of a mess that I’m only looking for a scapegoat. But sometimes I wonder if our marriage was doomed because of who we were intrinsically or if it had more to do with the myriad plot twists that life hurled our way. I guess there’s no way to know for sure, is there?
I had a dream about you last night. Weird, isn’t it? Dreamed I was back at Valley Tabernacle. Chris wasn’t there, which is funny because he was always more into that Holy Ghost stuff than I was. Always a lot more comfortable at your church, whereas I’m probably bound to attend places like Orchard Grove for the rest of my life. How’s that proverb go? Like a dog returns to its vomit ...
Maybe that’s why you took his side. Maybe that’s why you told me I just had to submit to his authority and everything would turn out ok. Maybe that’s why I’m here, trapped in this shelter for battered women, even though my husband never hit me.
Not even once.