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It had begun to rain hard again, the drops splattering over our faces and bouncing up from the sidewalk and street. I pulled Jefferson closer to me and charged up the block to the corner where I had seen that restaurant. The rainy wind hissed around the corner to greet us. Finally, we stepped inside and shook off the water. Both our heads were soaked. When we sat down at a booth, I used some napkins to wipe our faces and hands. I had little appetite, but Jefferson was ravenously hungry and ate everything on his plate and even some of mine. The bill came to a little over ten dollars. After I paid it, I sat there staring out the window, wondering what we should do next.
"Where are we going now?" Jefferson asked. "Can we go to a movie? Or find a playground?"
"Jefferson, please. We have to think of more important things," I said.
"I should brush my teeth. Mrs. Boston told me to brush my teeth after every meal if I could," he explained.
"Mrs. Boston," I said, recalling her and smiling. "I wouldn't mind living with her."
"Let's go," he said. "I wanna."
"We can't, Jefferson. She's not a relative. She would have to send us back, too. I guess we're going to have to go back," I said sadly. I saw that it had stopped raining again and thought we had better move on before it resumed. "Come on."
We went outside and looked for a taxicab. One was parked on the side, but the driver looked asleep. He opened his eyes when he sensed we were standing there staring at him.
"I'm off duty," he said.
"How do we get a taxicab then?" I asked him.
"Just wave at them, honey," he explained. Jefferson liked that. To him it was the first chance to have any fun. He stood just off the sidewalk and waved at the cabs flying to and fro. Finally, one pulled up in front of us.
"Port Authority, please," I said. This time we took our suitcases into the rear with us. The drive back was just as hectic as it had been before and the cost was just as much. With only a little over ten dollars left, we re-entered the big station. I was hoping I could get us bus tickets and have them paid for when we arrived in Cutler's Cove, but when I explained my situation to the ticket seller, he said it couldn't be done.
"Go find a policeman," he said. "Next, please." We stepped away from the window and walked slowly across the huge lobby to a row of benches.
"What are we going to do now?" Jefferson asked when I sat him and myself down.
"I need to think," I said.
"Me too," he said and closed his eyes.
I didn't want to call Uncle Philip and Aunt Bet. I thought the best thing to do would be to call Bronson. I hated giving him new worries on top of his grief over my grandmother's death, but I didn't know anyone else back home to call.
"You just wait here, Jefferson, while I make a phone call," I said. He nodded, closed his eyes and leaned against his suitcase. As I walked toward the bank of pay phones on the wall, the memory of what Uncle Philip had done to me returned with a vivid intensity. I could hear his voice, feel his fingers crawling over my body and then . . . it made me cringe inside. The idea of returning to Cutler's Cove and living with Uncle Philip and Aunt Bet again terrified me. I couldn't return; I just couldn't. So when I lifted the receiver and started to dial, I changed my mind and called Gavin instead.
"I can't tell you everything over the phone right now, Gavin," I said, "but I had to get away from Uncle Philip."
"Where are you?" he asked after a moment. "Jefferson and I are in New York City." "New York City!"
I told him about my real father and how that had been a disaster and then I told him we didn't have much money left.
"If you tell your father, he'll probably call my uncle Philip," I added.
"What did he do that was so terrible you can't tell me over the phone?" Gavin asked.
"It happened at night, Gavin. In my bedroom," I said, choking back the tears. There was a long silence.
"Don't do anything else," Gavin said. "Just wait there for me."
"You're going to come to New York?"
"I'll leave right away. Can you wait there for me?" he asked.
"Oh yes, Gavin. Yes."
"I'll be there, Christie . . . as soon as I can," he promised.
I hung up and returned to Jefferson and told him about Gavin.
