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I’d have to read it in the daytime because I didn’t have a flashlight, let alone one attached to a phone anymore. But I was excited to get started, and as I traced my fingers down the front cover, memories of my mother came flooding back. How she’d hide out, reading in my room, her legs propped on the window seat, when she wanted to avoid dealing with my father on the nights he came home drunk. Sometimes he’d shout her name before passing out in their bed. He was much easier to reason with in the morning.
“Where’d ya get that?” asked the woman sitting beside me. Her bony hand reached out to touch the edge of the book.
“Oh, um…someone lent it to me.”
“Lucky. The ones they have here are already picked through, and if I go to the library, I can’t check anything out.”
I nodded in sympathy, almost telling her I’d ask if she could borrow it next. Not a good idea. Foster didn’t know her, and the book didn’t belong to him. It was the reason I needed to be extra careful with it. Not that the other users had, given that the front corner was already bent and creased.
Just as I finished the first page, Tessa approached and asked me to come to her office when I was done. I was too curious to continue reading, so I stored the book in my cart, cleaned up my tray, and walked down the hallway to her open doorway.
“There’s a recent job posting I thought might be of interest to you.”
I sat in the seat across from her. “What is it?”
“Shampoo assistant at a downtown salon. It’s entry-level stuff, like keeping the stations supplied and sweeping after cuts.”
“I remember all too well.” I winced. “What happens when they find out I was a top stylist at a fancy salon?” Until I was let go for my erratic behavior and multiple absences. When she shrugged, I asked, “Won’t they wonder why I’ve been living on the streets?”
“Hey.” She leaned forward, empathy in her gaze. “You’ve got to start somewhere.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
She pulled out a form from her desk drawer. “Just fill this out and head over there with the application in hand. The manager already knows to expect you.”
“What about an address for the application?” If my driver’s license wasn’t expired, I might’ve gotten away with using my last known address. But Akron is nearly an hour away from Cleveland, so it would only raise more questions.
“The manager is aware that you’re using the shelter’s address for now.”
I tugged on my beard, feeling out of sorts. Did I want this? Was I ready to enter that world again? It didn’t feel like me anymore. But maybe it would after a few weeks.
“All right.” I forced a smile. “Thank you for vouching for me.”
“Of course.” She slid a pen to me. “You’re free to shower and use our employment-resources room. There’s bound to be something that fits you.”
Well, that was an offer I couldn’t refuse. I carefully filled out the form, hoping my shaky handwriting wasn’t a strike against me. Then Tessa led me to a room I recognized from their job-training program. There was a rack of donated clothing where I found pants and a shirt in my size.
Then I was off to the restroom facilities I’d once used as a resident. You were only allowed a three-day stay unless your case qualified for longer. I was familiar with the shower room, so I knew where to retrieve the shampoo, soap, and a fresh towel.
I could’ve trimmed my beard, but it kept me warm. Same for my hair, which had grown to near shoulder-length. It would look better after a proper shampoo. I could even use a comb and hair gel to make myself more presentable.
It would be better than the soap-and-bottled-water bath I gave myself every few days—though the latter at least helped me feel human and refreshed. I slipped out of my sneakers, remembering how Foster had noticed my keeping them clean. The other layers of clothing followed, and I carefully arranged them on a nearby folding chair.
And God, I could’ve stayed under the spigot with the warm water running down my skin for hours. I washed my body twice and even used conditioner on my hair.
I reluctantly twisted the water dial, dried myself off, and changed into the secondhand clothes that felt new without all the street grime.
Tessa smiled when I walked into her office. “You look good.”
After she gave me the address, she wished me luck.
“Thanks,” I muttered, feeling anxious all over again.
I rolled my cart back over the bridge and to West 6th Street, where lots of the trendy bars and restaurants were located. The wind was wicked today, so I pulled my coat closed, wishing I’d dressed in more layers. But that would’ve ruined the whole vibe.
