Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless (6 page)

"Why are you so late tonight?" I ask as I come out of my room.

"It's not late." She looks at me like I don't have good sense.

"Well, you obviously went somewhere after work." I study her more closely, realizing she's wearing a grubby pair of jeans and a stained hooded sweatshirt. "You didn't go to work looking like that, did you?"

She rolls her eyes, then goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge. As I follow her, that old familiar fear rushes through me. "Did you even go to work today, Mom?" The pitch in my voice gets higher.

"Why isn't there anything to eat in here?" she growls.

"Mom? Did you go to work today?"

She turns and scowls at me. "Where are you going tonight? Off to play with your new friends again?"

I'm not fooled by her stall tactic. "You didn't go to work, did you?"

"Who died and made you my mother?"

"Mom. . ." I'm trying to keep my voice calm now. "What's going on? Do you still have your job?"

She laughs, but I can tell by her cynical tone what the answer is. She has blown it. My mom has lost her job. We are going down.

Just then the doorbell rings. "That's Jayden." I hurry to grab my coat and bag. "We're going to the movies. I left a message on your cell." I rush out the door, nearly running Jayden down.

"Whoa, what's your hurry?"

"I'm sorry." I pause and take in a deep breath.

"Are you okay?"

I force a smile. "Sure. I'm fine."

"I was hoping I could meet your mom."

"That's not possible." I struggle to come up with a believable excuse. "That's just the problem. You see, my mom's got the flu, and I was trying to get out quickly so you don't get exposed."

"Oh ... is she okay?"

"She just needs to rest. She'll appreciate having a quiet evening to herself." And, yes, I'm lying, but what else can I do? As we get into his car, which is not as flashy or new as our other friends' cars but still nice, I dig deeper into my lie. I ramble on about how bad it was when my mom and I both got the swine flu and nearly died and how we take the flu very seriously now.

Finally sick of my lies, I change the subject and make small talk with Jayden as he drives us to the theater. But underneath my nervous chatter, I can't help but be impressed by two things. First of all, he actually wanted to meet my mom. And second, he seemed to genuinely care about her health. Unfortunately, I don't think he'd understand that my mom's health problems are mental not physical.

We meet up with the others inside the foyer of the theater, where Jayden gets sodas and a big bucket of popcorn-my second meal of the day. All the while I try to keep a cheerful expression and act normal, burying all my fears and worries deep inside ... wishing I were someone else. Why wasn't I born into a family like one of my new friends? Their biggest worries seem to be whether they'll get into the most elite college, not whether there'll be anything to eat for breakfast tomorrow.

While the movie plays, I'm totally distracted. All I can think about is that I need to figure out an escape plan-for when my mom's ship goes down. Somehow, as impossible as it seems, I have to preserve this nice little life I've been building for myself. Finally, as the credits are rolling, I realize I missed the entire movie. One of my friends will be eager to discuss this intellectual film afterward, and I will be sitting there like a dummy. But I also know what I've got to do to rescue myself and my mom. Tomorrow I will get a part-time job. Somehow I will try to keep our lives from totally unraveling. And then I'll pressure my mom to do her part. She can go beg for her job back, since I know she's lost it. Or she can flip burgers somewhere. I don't really care. But she can't just slip into another deep, dark depression.

"You seem kind of quiet tonight," Jayden says as we go out to his car. "Are you concerned about your mom?"

"I actually am pretty worried." At least that's not a lie.

"Do you want to call to see how she's doing?"

I consider this. "You know . . . I should probably just go home." The plan was to meet the others at Porky's, this oldfashioned diner that kids from our school hang at sometimes. But my stomach, which should be hungry, feels like there's a chunk of cement sitting in the bottom of it. And I'm not sure how much longer I can keep up this cheerful act. Obviously it's slipping already since Jayden has noticed.

"I understand," he tells me as he starts the car. "And I think it's cool that you care about your mom like that."

"Thanks."

"Hey, should we pick her up some chicken soup or something?"

I force a smile. "That's really sweet, but I think she has what she needs at home. I should probably just be there to help, you know."

After we arrive at my condo, Jayden walks me across the parking lot and up the stairs, holding my hand all the way.

"I'd invite you in, but my mom looked pretty contagious."

"That's okay." He leans toward me ... and I think I know what's coming. The good-night kiss! I lean forward, holding my breath, and then he gently kisses me on the lips-and I think I see stars!

"I'll call you tomorrow." He releases my hand and abruptly turns, hurrying down the stairs.

With my head still spinning, I stand there in front of my door. I replay the moment, remember the tender kiss-and desperately hope it won't be the last time. Because when I go inside the condo, everything will change. Bittersweet? Yes. But I will focus on the sweet for now.

Bracing myself for the conversation to pick up where we left off, I go inside the condo but am surprised the lights are off. I look around and realize that my mom's not home. After I get over being angry, I decide to search for something to eat. I can either have canned soup or macaroni and cheese (from the box). I go for the mac and cheese, and while the pasta is cooking, I run downstairs to the recycling area and pull out a recent paper from the newspaper box, extract the Classifieds, and run back up.

Then as I hungrily shovel in my food, I search through the Help Wanted ads, circling anything with potential. But it's almost like our other town-besides the full-time positions, which are very specific and require degrees, the jobs are for fastfood chains, convenience stores, and, of course, exotic dancers. While pole dancing or whatever they do is among the last jobs on earth I would want, I'm guessing the pay is much more lucrative than clerking at 7-Eleven. Even so, I'm so not going there.

The two jobs that interest me most are for a twenty-fourhour restaurant (the kind my friends would never be caught dead in) and a nursing home. The upside of the restaurant is I could probably eat there. But the nursing home's not far from our condo. And it looks like there are a couple of positions that need filling, which makes me think my mom could work there too. Of course, that's ridiculous on my part to think she'd lower herself to take care of elderly people.

I shove the newspaper aside and take my bowl to the sink, rinsing it and the pan and putting all evidence of my meal in the dishwasher. Where is my mom anyway? It's nearly eleven now and she's still not home. If we were in our old town, I'd assume she was out with friends, but as far as I know, the only friends she has here are work related. And this actually gives me some hope.

"I think Mark Edmonds is crushing on me," my mom confessed to me the first week at her new job.

"Is that why he went to so much trouble to move us here?"

She just gave me a sly little smile. But the message was plain. And to be honest, the idea of my mom getting seriously involved with a successful entrepreneur-type businessman like Mark Edmonds was quite appealing. For that reason and for stability's sake, I encouraged my mom to look her best, to put her best foot forward. And for a while I even entertained thoughts of my mom having someone dependable to take care of her next year, someone to keep her out of trouble after I went away to college. It was a nice little dream. Even when she told me about the little spats she and Mark had been having at work, I had imagined they were just lovers' quarrels or power struggles, rough spots that could be smoothed over in time. Perhaps they still can.

I try my mom's cell phone again, but I'm guessing she forgot to charge it. Even so I leave a message, then hang up. She is with Mark right now. She's probably made up with him, too. And maybe they're discussing the whole work thing ... making a plan for her to return to her job ... or maybe he's proposing and they are planning a trip to Vegas. That might upset some daughters, but it would be perfectly fine with me. If I were a praying person, I would beg God to make something like this happen. As it is, I'm not too sure about God. On a good day, I could take or leave him. On a really bad day, I think I don't even believe in God. And why should I since he obviously doesn't believe in me?

Imagining that everything with my mom is getting squared away and I'll have no need for a job, I toss the Classifieds into the trash and go to bed. Really, I was probably just letting my imagination run away with me again. I'm sure that by morning, life will return to normal-well, our recent new-and-improved normal anyway- and all my worries and fears will be a thing of the past.

But morning comes and my mom is still out. I have a can of soup for breakfast and keep myself busy doing homework and laundry. I still can't get over the fact that we have our own laundry room, which is actually a laundry closet-and yet it's so much better than a public laundry facility where you never know what's been in the washing machine before you. I've pulled out some disgusting things.

I wash my mom's sheets, then after they're dried, I remake her bed, all nice and fresh. I imagine that Mom and Mark will come home announcing that they did, indeed, slip off to Vegas last night to tie the knot. Of course, that means we'll have to move, but I know Mark's house is really swanky, and although I'll miss the condo, I'll live closer to my friends' neighborhood.

Finally it's four o'clock and I still haven't heard from my mom. When my phone eventually does ring, it's after five and it's Jayden.

"How's your mom doing?" he asks.

"Uh ... she's about the same."

"So, you probably don't want to leave her home alone ...?"

I consider this. "Actually, I don't think she'd really miss me."

"Cool. I thought we could grab a bite to eat and go to the library. I need to find a book for my AP history class before Monday."

"And I've still got homework to do anyway, so I'll just bring it along."

"Great. This will be a study date."

As soon as I hang up, my stomach growls and I can't believe I'm going to have a real meal tonight. I should be more excited about seeing Jayden than eating, but I can't help myself. I'm starving! And although I'm a bit worried that I'll eat like a hog in front of him, I'm not even sure I care. And if I don't hear from my mom by tonight, I think I'll go apply for the restaurant job tomorrow morning. The possibility of having a job that involves both food and tips has suddenly become hugely appealing.

"Wow, you must've been really hungry." Jayden looks at my empty burger basket. I ordered a deluxe double cheeseburger, curly fries, and a chocolate shake (the old-fashioned kind where they bring it in the big metal cup), and I ate every bite.

I smile sheepishly. "I know it's not cool for girls to eat like that-"

"No, I think it's very cool, Adele. I hate it when girls try to eat like an anorexic hummingbird just to impress a guy. Honestly, why is that supposed to be impressive anyway?"

I just shrug, then wipe my mouth with a napkin.

"Seriously, I like a girl who's not afraid to eat."

Now I'm feeling self-conscious. I glance around, then look back at Jayden's basket. He's still got food left. "So, did I really make a pig of myself?"

He chuckles. "No. You have a healthy appetite, that's all. And I like that you're comfortable enough with me to show it."

"Okay . . ." But as we leave I'm wondering if my "healthy appetite" is more off-putting than he's showing. Soon we're in the library, and while he's searching for his book, I settle down to do homework. And I'm surprised that the library is actually quite nice and comfortable, with oversized leather club chairs. The atmosphere in this old building is rather friendly ... and inviting.

After a while, I need to use the ladies' room, but I'm barely through the restroom door when I'm shocked to find a girl half dressed in there. I try not to stare as I hurry into a stall, then take my time. I'll give her a chance to get her shirt back on. But when I emerge, she's still topless and appears to be using the sink as her makeshift bathtub. I avert my eyes and quickly wash my hands, but when I'm finished, the half-naked girl is blocking the towel dispenser.

"Don't look at me like that," she snaps at me.

"I-I'm not," I stammer as I stand there with my hands dripping. "I just wanted a towel."

"Oh." She glances over her shoulder to see the paper towels, then moves.

I snatch a towel and hurry to dry my hands.

"But I know what you're thinking." She pulls a T-shirt over her head.

I stare at her now. "How can you possibly know what I'm thinking?"

"I know you're judging me, thinking I'm a pathetic loser."

I frown. "Why would I think that?"

She rolls her eyes, then reaches for a backpack that's stuffed to the max. "No reason," she mumbles.

But now I'm curious. "Seriously, why did you think I was like that?"

"Oh, I've seen you and your other rich friends at school, and I know-"

"We go to the same school?"

She frowns. "Not that someone like you would notice. You're too into your own little world to care about anyone else."

I'm about to argue this, but she's actually right. I am too into my own little world to notice. Still, I'm not sure what her point is.

"Anyway, who cares what you think?" She pulls on her jacket, scowling at me like I'm personally responsible for whatever her misfortune is. Or maybe she's just mad at me for finding her half naked in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." I make my way to the door ahead of her.

"Yeah, I'll bet you are."