Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless (11 page)

Then I run down to the market and get some sodas to stock in the fridge. This will stretch my frugal budget a bit, but it'll be worth it. I want Jayden to think I live a somewhat normal life. And I can explain that my mom was too busy with her job and then the sickness to get our condo tricked out just how we wanted it. I think he'll understand. I can also tell him that we decided to wait to get real furniture until we get into a bigger house-in order to get things that fit it better. My make-believe life sounds almost believable to me.

It's about six thirty when the doorbell rings, and thinking Jayden's here early, I happily open the door. But to my surprise it's a man in an expensive-looking suit.

"Is Carlene here?"

I blink and try to figure out who this guy is. The expression on his face is serious. Is he an attorney? A well-dressed cop? Someone from Children's Services perhaps?

"I'm sorry." He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a business card. "I'm Mark Edmonds. I was Carlene's boss."

"Oh right. I'm her daughter, Adele."

Now he blinks in surprise. "Carlene has a daughter?"

I just nod.

"Oh ...?" He looks stumped.

"Anyway, she's gone right now."

"Well, I've been trying to reach her on her phone, but she must not be checking her voice mail."

I shrug. "I guess not."

"When do you expect her back?"

"I ... uh . . . I'm not sure." Now I feel hopeful. Is Mark here to offer Mom her job back? To say he's sorry? Maybe he wants to marry her.

"Because I really need to talk to her. It's urgent."

"Maybe if you tell me, I can get a message to her."

He seems uncertain. "Yes, I suppose that's a good idea. Here's the deal: I gave your mom an advance on her salary." He shakes his head like he can't believe what a fool he's been. "And I paid her rent for the first two months in the condo. But when your mom walked out on her job, I told her I expected to be recompensed for all the expenses. After all, we had an agreement and I trusted her, but she let me down."

That old feeling, like there's a brick in the pit of my stomach, returns as I stand there wishing I could say something to smooth this over. I even consider telling him that my mom has a really bad case of the flu, that she'll return to her job as soon as she gets well, but I have a feeling he won't buy that.

"So, anyway, the property manager called to tell me the rent was overdue on your condo. Naturally, I have no intention of paying it."

"Naturally."

"So unless your mom pays her rent, it looks like you'll be evicted."

"Evicted?"

He nods glumly. "I'm sorry. It doesn't seem fair to dump all this on you. But you look like you're old enough to handle the truth. Tell your mom that if she doesn't make some kind of an arrangement to pay me -rather the company- back, we'll be forced to hire an attorney."

"Right. . ."

"You'll let her know I came by then? Tell her that she needs to take responsibility for these things before it's too late?"

I just nod, knowing full well it's already too late.

"Thank you." He forces a smile. "Hopefully you'll learn from your mom's mistakes and never end up in a situation like this yourself."

"Hopefully." I match his forced smile with one of my own, then he tips his head and leaves. I close and lock the door, replaying his warning. "Never end up in a situation like this myself ... " Is this guy nuts? I'm already in a situation like this! It's my mom who ran away. And now I'm being evicted? What am I supposed to do?

aybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," Jayden says as he lays down the last of his cards, going out and winning his second game of rummy.

"Playing cards?" I toss my cards aside and frown at him. "After all, you're winning."

"No, I mean coming over here while your mom is so sick. I can tell you're pretty worried about her."

"Oh . . ." I nod. "I guess I have been a little distracted."

"Do you need to check on her or anything?"

I stand and look at my watch. "Yes, it's time for her medicine. And I should probably take her something to drink."

"And I should probably go." He stands, then pulls me into a hug. "Tell your mom I'm sorry I didn't get to meet her."

"I will."

He leans down to kiss me, and suddenly I want to hang on to him and I wish he wasn't leaving. And I'm mad at myself for not making this evening more fun. What if Jayden decides I'm boring or not worth it or just gets tired of hearing about my sick mom all the time? Or even worse, what if he figures out I've been lying to him? Why didn't I just tell him the truth in the beginning? Maybe he would've understood. Now it feels too late.

"I'll call you," he says as he leaves. I lock the door and lean my head against it. My life feels like it's unraveling ... and fast. What am I going to do? What?

I cannot ignore Mark Edmonds' warning about getting evicted. I remember the time Mom and I got evicted a few years ago. I came home from school to find an eviction notice taped to the front door and all the locks had been changed. Everything we owned, which wasn't much, was still inside, but we weren't even allowed to get it. We spent the night at my mom's boyfriend's house. I can't even remember his name now, but he called the landlord and talked him into letting us have our stuff back. The next morning we went over to our house to find all our belongings strewn across the front yard. I remember feeling so humiliated as I gathered up my things with neighbors watching. One lady even stopped by to ask if we were having a garage sale.

Think . . . think . . . I pace back and forth in the living room. Then I notice the van keys on the counter and remember I haven't moved Ben's van since Wednesday night. I almost didn't move it at all except I didn't want to give that creep any excuse to park himself at our condo when (or maybe if) he and my mom came home. But now I'm thinking that van might be my only hope of holding on to my stuff, because if I come home from work tomorrow to find this place locked up ... well, I'm not sure what I'd do. Probably end up in a foster home wearing somebody's hand-me-downs to school next week.

I pocket Ben's keys and head straight for my room, gathering up clothes and shoes and packing them in my duffel bag. I realize it's going to take a few trips. I also remember how smelly that van was, and I can only imagine what kind of junk might be in the back of it. So leaving my duffel bag in the house, I arm myself with cleaning products and garbage bags and go down to work over that van. I bag up a bunch of what I assume are Ben's clothes and personal items and drag these back upstairs, dumping them in my mom's room. Let her deal with them.

Next I park the van by a dumpster and throw the rest of the junk away. Then I move the van, which I have named Darth Vader, over on the side of the street beneath a streetlight. And now I sweep and scrub and eventually decide old Darth Vader might not be so hopeless after all. It's after eleven by the time I park Darth in my mom's parking space close to our unit. Although I'm exhausted, I spend the next hour hauling everything I want to keep down to the van. I even put the TV and some other items that might be worth money down there. All my efforts might be futile if my mom and Ben show up, but it's a chance I'm willing to take. For all I know, I could be living in that van before long.

With that in mind, I go back upstairs and launder my mom's bedding, which I plan to confiscate and carry to the van just in case. I'll remain in the condo for as long as I can, sleeping in my own bed. But if I get locked out, I'll have everything I need in the van. It seems crazy to go to these extremes. And I know I'll have some explaining to do if my mom shows up tomorrow. But she'll have some explaining to do as well!

Finally, I fall into bed exhausted. Thankfully, I don't have to go to work until eleven so, unless I'm evicted first thing in the morning, I will sleep in.

The next morning, I take a few more things down to the van. If I end up having to live in it for a while, it'll be like camping. It might even be fun in a twisted sort of way. Then I walk around the condo, looking at it long and hard, knowing full well this might be the last time I see it, and I drive the van to work.

My job, I've decided, is a great distraction. The work keeps me so busy I don't even have time to think or obsess. And when I do have a free moment, I usually end up visiting with one of the residents. When my shift is over, I actually start to walk home before I remember Darth Vader back in the employee parking lot.

Tonight I park the van in the visitor lot. I think it's probably better if the manager doesn't figure out that the van has any connection to our condo. I get my old backpack, which I've stuffed with everything I need for the night, then glance around to see if anyone is watching me before I quietly sneak up the stairs, fully expecting to see an eviction notice on the door. But there is no letter and my key works in the lock. So I get to sleep in my own bed again.

On Sunday morning, I can almost make myself believe that my fear of being kicked out of this place is all in my head. Even so, I don't leave anything I want behind. And after another busy day at work, I come home and sneak up the stairs with my backpack only to find there actually is an eviction letter posted on the door. And a lockbox prevents me from using my key. I scan the letter, and my mom has been instructed to contact management immediately. Like that's going to happen.

But just in case, I will leave one more message on her cell phone. I've already left a bunch, even informing her of Mark's visit and the warning about the eviction. But when I turn on my phone, I discover that it's out of service, which I'm guessing means that my mom hasn't paid that bill either.

I'm tempted to just chuck my phone as far as I can throw it, but that's not too prudent. Instead I return to the van and have a good long cry. This is so wrong. Life is so unfair. I work so hard ... I try to make the best of a really messed-up situation, and I end up living in an old van. Wrong, wrong, wrong-

Now I realize that I haven't even done my homework. But to do it in the van means I'll have to use a light to see, and I know that could run down the battery. I consider driving somewhere, like a coffee shop, where I can sit and study, but there's only a quarter of a tank of gas. I can't afford to waste a drop. Think ... think ...