End of the Innocence(81)

I took a deep breath, lengthening my strides in an attempt to change the muscles worked. Twice I had to hide, headlights reflecting off nearby items, warning me in advance of approaching cars. I used that time to breathe, crouched into a tiny ball, comfortable in the darkness, my confidence increasing the farther I ran. The streets were changing, becoming more commercial in nature. I passed a few homeless men, their eyes watching me closely, one reaching out for me as I passed, his fingers grasping empty air, my steps moving me away from him. I cut over one street, avoiding the main road and taking a side street, the hum of traffic giving me a burst of confidence. My eyes examined the back of closed business, doctor’s offices, accounting firms, an auto parts store. I was moving closer to suburbia, the sidewalk less cracked, gravel transitioning to landscaped area. Everything closed. Then, ahead, I saw the glow of lights. A pharmacy, its bright red sign visible from the back road. I came to a stop, trying to make a decision.

It was the first place worth stopping at, the first commercial business I had come to, where the public moved freely in and out, where I could walk in and ask to use a phone. But wouldn’t that also make it the first place they would look for me? Maybe I should continue, put another mile between them and me. I exhaled deeply, my throat dry, starving again for liquid. The pharmacy would have something for my feet. Maybe even shoes, not that I had any money to pay for it. But they might cover me until Brad arrived.

I walked, studying the store as I approached from the back. My body yearned to burst inside, dramatically collapse on the floor, and have all matters of liquids, ointments, and comfort thrust upon me with helpful, eager hands. But something felt off, so I picked up the pace and continued running. Ahead I saw decorative lighting and prayed for a residential street.

Given the distance I had run, the odds were finally in my favor. A ten-minute jog past the pharmacy delivered me into suburbia. It was practically Wisteria Lane, minivans and manicured lawns on either side as I stood in the middle of a gravel-free road. I nearly wept, running forward and sinking to my knees on soft grass, the purr of a sprinkler treating me with a spray of cool water. I stumbled to my feet, running with the sprinkler’s movement, the glorious arch of liquid cooling my overheated body, water running down my face, my tongue outstretched. I slowed to a walk, the cushion of grass heaven to my abused feet, and then sank to the grass, lying on my back and waiting for the curtain of water to make its sweep over me once again.

Peace. Safety. A splash of cool water, the taste of it somewhat metallic. The tick of a sprinkler head as it moved on. A moment of glorious relaxation, the plush grass beneath me, the tickle of blades against my arms. The lull of sleep interrupted by a new blast of water, as the arc made its way back around.

The sprinkler was on its third sweep when the yard was flooded with light, painful fluorescent beams that caused my eyes to squeeze tight in an automatic reflex. I sat up, the sprinkler choosing that moment to hit me full force in the face, a pelt of water that had me momentarily blinded and coughing, the water catching me unprepared in my throat. I staggered to my feet, my hand wiping my face, my eyes blinking widely as my contacts attempted to find their place on my eyeballs. I held up my hands and froze when a commanding voice spoke from the directions of the lights.

“You’ve come to the wrong neighborhood if you want to get drunk and cause trouble. You’ve got sixty seconds to get off my lawn and out of this area, or I’m calling the cops.” It was a woman’s voice, strong and throaty, and I stepped forward, my contacts finally cooperating, my vision coming into focus. Steely blue eyes framed by a mess of red curls with a look that let me know my sixty seconds had begun.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please. I need to use a phone.” I sank to my knees before her, clasping my hands together and staring into her eyes, the dramatic pose entirely fitting, given the circumstances.

She surveyed me, her eyes traveling over my wet t-shirt, pajamas, and bare feet. She glanced out at the street, then back to me, studying my eyes intently. “You drunk?”

I shook my head. “No.”

She pointed to a swing on the front porch. “You can use my phone, but stay on the porch.” She started to head inside, and I stood, a smile crossing my face.

“Ma’am?” I called out, trying to catch her before the door swung behind her. She turned, eyeing me with a question in her glance.

“Do you mind turning the porch light off? I won’t do anything wrong, I swear.” I glanced over my shoulder, hating the bright lights that illuminated me on the dark street, a beacon to anyone on the hunt.