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“See that I do,munchkin. Tell Mitch to meet me at my house before midnight. If he doesn’t…well, then I expect we’ll be seeing each other sooner rather than later.” Donny flashes me a grin that has bile rising in my throat before turning on his heel and heading for my door. He turns back once he’s outside and eyes me. “Pity a beauty like you is so obscured under all this filth. A face like yours should be on magazines and billboards, not stuck in some run-down trailer. I can take you from this life, you know. A diamond in need of polishing.”
I have to suppress an eye roll. I’ve heard the same thing my entire life.
“You’re so pretty, it’s too bad you’re poor.”
“You’re so beautiful, but looks aren’t everything.”
It sounds so shitty to say, but sometimes being pretty is a burden. You’re judged for it, just like those who are overweight or have disabilities. I’m believed to be dependent, stupid, or stuck up, simply because I’m pretty. Like right now, Donny only wants me because I’m pretty, not because he likes the person I am or connects with my heart. He thinks I’m dumb enough to take him up on his offer, desperate enough to give myself to him.
He only sees the external beauty, a trophy to hang on his arm. To be used, exploited, ruined…
“Donny, there isn’t enough money in the world that would make me go with you.” Fuck, it feels so good to say that and watch the smile slip from his face.
“You say that now, but you might think differently if Mitch doesn’t pay.” He runs his eyes up and down my body, making me feel exposed, though I’m fully clothed. “Five hundred dollars by midnight. Not a second later.” He shuts the door.
I scurry over to lock it, then head to my couch, collapsing on the worn leather covered in duct tape patches. Tears well in my eyes as the seriousness of my situation hits me.
Five hundred dollars…
How are we going to come up with this?
And where the hell is Mitch-bitch?
Hunger pains churn in my stomach, and bile rises in the back of my throat from its severity. Fuck, I have to do something.
I don’t need Mitch to take care of me anymore. I don’t need anyone. And it’s time I prove that to myself.
Pulling myself together, I grab one of my brother’s old high school hoodies off the hook near the door and tug it on, pulling the hood down over my head before walking out the door.
It’s midafternoon, and the sun is shining brightly in the cloudless sky, the cool air licking my face. I take a deep breath of the fresh air. Fall has always been my favorite season. I love when the trees change colors, when families decorate their houses with bales of hay and pumpkins, and the oppressive heat shifts to cooler weather in preparation for the harsh, Massachusetts winter.
My next-door neighbors are outside, an elderly couple who prefers to sit on their lawn chairs more than their couch. On an old radio, the Red Sox game is announced, and the couple cheer as a homerun makes its way over the Green Monster. They kiss in celebration, and my heart aches as much as it breaks.
Though poor in monetary things, they are rich in love, and I’d choose that over money every day. I think real love is rare in this world, a fluke, a happenstance. It doesn’t come easily, and sometimes not at all. At the rate my life is going, I think I’m destined to live alone…well, with no one else but Mitch. I don’t want to let anyone in my heart out of fear of getting hurt or losing them.
It’s not worth it.
Over the years, I’ve built a wall around my feelings, suppressing them, forcing myself to become hardened in order to cope with what my life has become. I’ve come to believe the lies I tell myself—that I don’t need anyone, that I’m fine alone. I repeat it like a mantra so much, I believe it to be true.
Waving to the happy couple, I step down the cement blocks we use for stairs and head out of Knight’s Trailer Park. Such a savage name, because there are no knights here to save me. Here, I have to save myself.
With no destination in mind, I take a left onto the VFW Pkwy and head toward Riverdale Park. The park has always brought me solace. Benches line the grass overlooking Charles River, and it’s one of my favorite places to go and think. Here, the sounds of children playing in the grass fill my heart with happiness, the endless rushing water gives me peace. Watching the river clears my mind and allows me to relax, similar to when I watch flames dance in a fire.
With the weather growing colder, less and less people are in the park, usually leaving me alone for periods of time. But not today. A woman is sitting on one of the benches, pushing a stroller back and forth in front of her, while she watches two little girls play with a ball in the grass. Utter happiness glows on her face, her smile huge as she gazes from her daughters to the little one in the stroller.
I can tell she’s not from around here. Her Mercedes is the only car in the parking lot. Just as I’m about to pass her, a pink ball whizzes by me and smashes into her purse, knocking it off the bench and onto the grass. Its contents spill out—bags of snacks, diapers, baby wipes, and a wallet filled with cash…
My heart flutters and I hesitate for only a moment, but the fear that I will end up in Donny’s slimy fingers outweighs any moral guilt.
This could be it, my one chance.
“Here, let me help you.” Bending down, I aid the woman in scooping up her belongings and get them back into her designer purse.
“Thank you so much. I’m so sorry about the ball. My daughter—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “They’re just kids being kids. Besides, I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a pink ball before.”
She offers me a warm smile. “Well, thank you…”
