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I pulled myself into a ball. “Ouch.” Open wounds from scrapes and scratches covered my arms. Delicately, I ran my fingers across my face. The pain could have been from the cuts on my hands or the ones on my face.
I leaned my head against the tree trunk and closed my eyes.
Chapter 4
Meghan
It felt like time never passed from the second I closed my eyes to the hoot of a night owl falling on my ears. Yet, it did. The world spun around and around, leaving me sitting perfectly still in the middle of the woods.
Sleep had come and gone without leaving the gift of refreshment in its wake.
Until now, I’d never had to wonder when, where or how to meet my basic everyday needs.
A beeping from the phone in my backpack reminded me I was a grown-up. My job wouldn’t wait. I was absolutely replaceable. If I wanted to work, I needed to shower.
STAT.
When I was a kid, my family and I took a summer road trip every year. Back then, I didn’t understand why gas stations had showers. Didn’t truckers have a place to go at the end of the day?
The cashier looked at me a little sideways when I asked for the key to shower number two. It could have been my smeared make-up or the fact that I wasn’t a trucker who needed a shower.
I was just a girl who needed to get ready for work. After sitting on a park bench for several hours, walking all over town, and spending a night in the woods, a shower was mandatory.
“That will be five dollars.”
It was my turn to look at her funny.
“Showers aren’t free here, doll,” The clerk added.
I pulled out my last three dollars and scrounged around in the bottom of my pack for six quarters and a few dimes. Thank God it was payday at the coffee shop. Usually I earned some extra cash in tips too; that would go a long way as far as showers were concerned.
Shower number two wasn’t as gross as I would have expected it to be. Besides a little mold growing in one corner behind the toilet, it was fairly clean. The smell of bleach and ammonia hit my nose.
At least it had been sanitized.
In the side pocket of my backpack, were a few toiletries and my toothbrush. I laid them on the counter for quick access.
I turned the nozzle to the side indicated for hot water and waited. The water never warmed. Time was running out. Suzie would kill me if I was late.
Hoping for a miracle, I switched the handle to the cold position. When mom and I first moved to the city, she found a small apartment. The handles on our sink faucet had been reversed during installation. The cold was hot, and the hot was cold. Apparently, the same could be said for the truck stop shower.
Steam filled the small room, leaving condensation on the tile and mirror.
The rush of warm water along my skin was glorious. I’d only been on the street for a few hours, but I already felt disgusting. A soap dispenser hung on the wall in the shower. I pumped a bit in my hand and scrubbed away the sweat.
If work wasn’t waiting, I would have stayed in the warmth longer. For those few seconds, I had all that I needed. It’s amazing what a little water can do for the soul.
I shut off the faucet, put a toe on the cold, wet tile and stopped dead in my tracks.
No towel.
This wasn’t some fancy fitness center locker room. The five-dollar fee didn’t include a towel, and it was the last thing I would have ever thought to grab from my old home. Shivering from the abrupt cold that hits your body when you step out of warm water, I reached into my bag and pulled out one of my few clean t-shirts to dry myself off.
My clean clothes stuck to my still damp body, making it a bit more cumbersome to get dressed. Still, I was on a time crunch. I wiped away the steam from the mirror. I wish I hadn’t. My reflection was far too real. Dark circles, soiled make-up and wet hair– exhaustion crawled out of my soul and onto my face.
Pull yourself together, Grey.
Usually, I take my time layering foundation and shades of shadow.
