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“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. Nice earrings.”
My hands instinctively went to my earlobes. Costume jewelry I’d bought for some silly occasion back in college, fake cubic zirconia studs that could pass for real to those who didn’t know better. Like the kid.
“Thanks, they’re fake. Want them?”
“Nah.” She shrugged, and I wondered briefly it was the chill in the air or her own demons making her shake. “You should be careful. You don’t look like you belong out here.”
“No one belongs out here.”
She shrugged again and shoved her hands deep in her jeans that were at least two sizes too big and walked away. I knew better than to relax too soon. One moment of kindness meant nothing out on the streets, as Brandee had warned me, and I kept that piece of advice at the forefront of my mind.
An hour later, and I was still too wired to sleep, too anxious and too amped up to let my mind relax enough to close my eyes. I’d been saving the hit I scored off of a sleeping junkie for when I really needed it, but these days need and want blended into one never-ending battle to keep my head on straight.
Nothing worked, either. Not booze or pot, not even sleeping pills did more than make me a little drowsy. Nothing killed my pain or dulled the edges. Nothing felt better, least of all me.
The night before last I tried to pray. To reach out to the only man left in my life who hadn’t abandoned me, to ask for guidance and forgiveness. For a sign.
For anything.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the words to apologize for responding to the tidal wave of shit life had thrown at me recently. Sure, I hadn’t handled it very well. Then again, I wasn’t exactly equipped to handle this kind of downturn in my life. It was, until recently, foreign to me. Unknown.
And now it was my reality.
Reality sucked, and I was tired of it, so I reached deep under the driver’s seat until the plastic baggie brushed against my fingertips. It took almost a minute before I finally had it in my clutches.
Painlessness.
Oblivion.
I was vaguely aware of the sounds of footsteps outside of the car, but there was nothing I could do about it. If the girl had returned with friends, this was the best way to face whatever came next.
If not, well this was the best way to face another night in my car. Praying didn’t work anymore, if it ever had, so I just let the pain leave my body. The footsteps faded away and I let the darkness claim me.
Morning, as it always did, came too soon. Parking on the east side of the building wasn’t my smartest move, but it was better to wake up early than risk getting caught by building security. Those guys were unforgiving dicks with too much power.
A quick look around in the mirrors showed I was still alone and my car still sat on four wheels, so I considered it another successful night on the street. It wasn’t the success I thought I’d have a few months out from graduation, but it was time to stop dwelling on a future that was nothing but fiction. This was my future. Time to get used to it.
I pulled down the visor and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was pale except for the fact that every freckle on my body seemed to have gravitated to my face. My cheeks were hollowed out thanks to a week of eating convenience store soup for a dollar twenty-five, and my eyes were wild and somehow also lifeless.
“This is your life Bonnie Byrne, so get over yourself. No more thoughts of the dreams you once had, the life you thought you’d be leading after graduation. That life is done. Over. A story that was never written.”
My phone buzzed on the passenger seat, startling me out of my brand-new daily affirmation, and I looked at the screen. Guilt turned my empty stomach to an uncomfortable mix of acid and lava when I saw Maisie’s name on the display. She was probably worried sick about me.
I didn’t want that, but I couldn’t risk Calvin’s computer tricks tracking me down, taking me back out of guilt.
The phone rang again, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, half tempted to answer just to hear Maisie’s voice. Except it wasn’t Maisie, the number was local but I didn’t know the name. I was suspicious, but this phone was my key to making money. I couldn’t let fear trump good sense, so I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Is this Bonnie Marie Byrne?” asked a gruff and impatient-sounding man.
“Yes, this is Bonnie.”
“Name’s Fred over at The Interstate Café. You know the diner right before you get on the interstate?”
