When I was a kid, I read a short story about a very resourceful homeless woman. She washed herself in gas station bathrooms and collected free make-up and perfume samples from department stores. She walked through the grocery store filling her cart with items she didn't intend to buy while eating a banana and grapes, looking like a leisurely shopper. Then she would suddenly realize she ‘forgot' something in her car or have an emergency and would have to abandon her cart-without paying for what she'd already eaten.
For the past three days, that's basically what I'd been doing. I hadn't actually stolen anything yet, but I needed to make it across the country while spending as little as possible.
While getting to California was the ultimate goal, being homeless was not. From what I'd heard, living expenses weren't cheap.
After emptying my savings account, I had roughly $1,700. My short stint as a waitress and all those summers of dog-walking and pet-sitting were finally paying off.
The first night on my own was spent on a bus, which took me from Portland, Maine to Philadelphia. The twelve-hour ride was long, but I slept for a good part of it.
The next night I found a cheap motel where the guy working the desk didn't care that I wasn't eighteen. He barely glanced up at me from the newspaper he was reading as I handed him cash and he tossed me a room key, no questions asked. It was a seedy motel and I was sure questionable things went on there, things I didn't want to know anything about. I knew I was spending my money faster than I should, but I'd desperately wanted a bed and a hot shower.
After taking another bus to Columbus, Ohio, I toyed with the idea of hitchhiking. It was the most obvious solution if I wanted to save my dwindling funds.
Letting out a sigh, I stopped walking along the busy street to take an old postcard out of my back pocket. It was one of my most prized possessions.
Vehicles whizzed by as I studied the tattered piece of paper. The edges were worn and the corners curled from the thousands of times I'd looked at it. It was from the San Diego Zoo and it had a picture of otters on the front.
There was no message on the back. No well wishes or words of love. Only my mom's name was written there in faded ink-Deeana.
I shoved it back into my pocket as I resumed walking while contemplating my next step.
As I approached a Holiday Inn, my nerves set in because of what I was about to do. I wasn't good at lying. In fact, I was just about the worst liar ever. Always had been.
I tried to mentally psyche myself up. I just had to walk in and pretend like I belonged there. My growling stomach reminded me of why I had to do this. I hadn't had much food in the last few days. Granola bars only went so far.
Walking through the automatic sliding doors, I tried my best to seem nonchalant. The desk clerk was on the phone and didn't even notice me as I made my way straight to the elevator. I went up to the second floor and searched for a room with a ‘Do Not Disturb' sign on the door.
Ah, room 221.
Next I took a peek around the corner to find the maid making her rounds with the cleaning cart.
Bingo.
"Excuse me." I approached the woman. "My parents and I are in room 221 and they want to sleep in, but wanted me to see if I could get some more shampoo and stuff?"
"Sure, honey. What do you need?" she asked in a thick accent. Her curly brown hair, streaked with gray, was pulled into a neat bun at the back of her head. She was probably in her fifties and she had kind, brown eyes.
I felt bad for lying to her. When she looked at me, she probably saw an innocent girl, not a sneaky, lying thief.
"Um, three of everything?"
She gathered the shampoo, conditioner, soap, and lotion, and handed them to me with a bright smile. "There you go."
"Thank you so much," I said with a relieved sigh.
The amount she gave me would get me through the next couple of weeks.
Going back to the elevator, I took it down to the lobby where the smell of the continental breakfast made my mouth water.
I looked like any other hotel guest coming down for a late breakfast. I reassured myself no one had any reason to suspect me of deceit, but that didn't stop me from being paranoid about it.
Keeping my head down, I went straight for the bagels. After piling on some bacon, scrambled eggs, and a banana, I sat down to enjoy my meal.
As I looked around, I noticed I was the only person sitting alone. The table next to me was a family of four, and the two children were bickering over who got to have the last mini cereal box of Apple Jacks. Being an only child definitely had its perks, but when I was a kid I would've given my right arm for a sibling.
Too afraid someone might realize I wasn't a hotel guest, I finished my food quickly. Before leaving, I grabbed a couple more bagels and an apple and stuffed them in my backpack.
I walked away from the hotel with a sour feeling in my stomach, and I recognized it for what it was-guilt.
I had lied. I took something that wasn't mine and I felt bad about it. I'd never stolen anything before, at least, not on purpose. One time, I forgot to tell the cashier at Walmart about the case of water on the bottom of my cart, so technically, I stole that.
But this was different. What I did at the hotel felt wrong.
It solidified my resolve to hitchhike. If I wasn't spending money on bus fare, I could afford a little food here and there. Forcing the guilt to the back of my mind, I thought about my next step-find somewhere to wash up.
I saw several options as I walked down the street, away from the hotel. There were some fast food restaurants and a large convenience store but I knew the bathrooms would most likely have several stalls and a lot of people going in and out. Not the best idea since I was going to be washing my hair in the sink.
Grimacing, I ran my fingers through my hair, which was wild from sleeping on a bus all night. The long blonde strands were also getting oily. I wasn't one of those people who could skip a shower and get away with it. With quick work of my fingers, I put it in a braid to tame it down.
I'd been walking for at least an hour when I saw a truck stop. It was so generic-looking. There wasn't even a name-the faded yellow overhead sign just simply said ‘Truck Stop'. The store was small and I could see it had the kind of bathrooms around the back where you needed a key to get in.
Perfect.
While I was in the store, I decided to splurge on a protein bar and a bottle of water. I was going to need the energy with all this walking.
The cashier was a man, probably in his thirties. His curly brown hair was grown out to his shoulders and with the tie-dye shirt stretched out over his large stomach, he totally had the hippie vibe going on.
He looked incredibly bored as he rang up my items and told me the total. I couldn't help wondering if I would end up in a job like this when I made it to California. With only a high school education, it's not like I'd have many choices.
After I paid and got the bathroom key, I went around to the back of the building. I was ready for my shower. I just hoped they had one of those automatic hand dryers.
*
It didn't have a dryer.
The sink was tiny. Soap got in my eyes. The floor got soaked. I slipped and almost fell on my ass. I ran out of paper towels.
As I did my best to wring the excess water out of my hair, I felt like maybe my naivety was catching up with me. Honestly, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.
I realized now I didn't really put much planning into the plan. I didn't have much real-world experience. I'd never even been camping before.
And now I thought I could just travel across the country spending little to no money? Did I really think I could pull this off? Claire would have said I was ‘winging it' or ‘Flying by the seat of my pants'.
Not exactly the best motto for success.
Panic clawed at me when I considered the possibility that I'd made a big mistake. A mistake so big I wouldn't be able to dig myself out of the mess I'd created. A mistake that left me feeling even more lost than I did right now.
The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as I gazed at the forlorn expression reflecting back at me in the small, square mirror.
Taking a deep breath, I shook the negative thoughts from my mind. I refused to let the fear and doubt creep in.
Besides, it was too late to turn back now.
TRAVIS
The sound of ‘On the Road Again' by Willie Nelson started blaring from my phone just as I got into the driver's seat of the semi.
"What's up, Hank?" I answered without even needing to look at the caller ID.
"Travis, what's your twenty?"
I chuckled because he'd really taken a liking to trucker lingo. "Just filled up outside of Columbus. Made the delivery. I'm taking a lunch break, then I'll be back on the road."