Alone

The woman named Jolene brought out two bins on a cart that also had several clothes hanging form racks.

“There’s a complete bathroom down the hall,” she said. Let’s take this down.”
“Okay,” I replied with a little timidness to my voice. It was almost like my words were swallowed up by my throat. I didn’t know if they were still going to call my parents or a squad of cops. I mean, he obviously knew what happened at school—how I barricaded myself in one office. What was to stop me from doing that here?

Jolene rolled the cart into what looked like a small locker room, or at least a rather large bathroom. She quietly closed the door and left me in the room by myself. I walked back to the door and locked it.

I hesitated removing my dirty, mud-strained below the knees and elbows clothes. They were all I had to my name. They were hand-me-downs and they were my brother’s at one time but they were mine.
“No, no you want to get rid of them. Maybe ask for a match.” I whispered as I got undressed and turned on the water.
It wasn’t hot or cold but more like in that mythical moment of temperature tranquility. If my hair was longer I would have run my hands through it as the water cascaded down.
I kept my eyes closed as I cleaned myself off. Maybe the water could change me. It was church, right? Holy water would wipe out the diseased, the unclean and the unwanted. I could be reborn with a new body and a repaired mind. My soul? I wasn’t sure if had already been sold or I had simply lost it and didn’t notice until then.
My brain went through memories, dreams and nightmares. Other girls sang in the shower or thought out their problems in the steam. They would churn out solutions and would proclaim “eureka” before the water turned cold. My mind, of course, gave me one good scenario: finding my sister; and then the rest were simply doom and gloom.
I had to wonder if there was a window or a door nearby that I could dart out before someone saw me. I could always thank them later, right?

I sorted through all of the clothes on the rack—wondering how many I could layer as they looked better than anything my sister owned. I had to wonder who had given them up to begin with? I chose a basic dress and top. I still assumed that I could just run out of the building and just go…but…it was cold and I would freeze in the dress.

“Unless you stay here and try to make that phone call,” I whispered as I glanced at the door and at dirty clothes on the floor.

I opened the door and walked back in the direction of the office. Jolene stepped out and motioned to me.
“That looks pretty on you.”
“Thank you,” I replied with almost a smile on my face.
“ Randy, she’s out now.”
“Great, I have sone news.”
His tone was chippy, like a happy song. I wondered if he spoke like that at funerals.

We walked into the office with a phone turned to a chair next to the desk.
I sat in the chair and stared at the phone until Mr. Cox handed over a piece of paper.

“We found your sister.”
I looked up at him with surprise. Had he really? Was the number in my hand the magical code to remove me from my prison of life?
“We do need to talk about something before you make this call.” Mr. Cox said as he sat down at the desk.
“Okay,” I replied.
“I don’t know everything that’s been going on in your life, but, there is a chance that your sister-“
“That my sister will what?”
“She may have her own issues.”
“Yes, she does have her own issues. Thanks to the rest of our family.”
“I just want to tell you that no matter what she says, you haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I wish I could believe that,” I said with a deep swallow. “Can I call her now?”
He nodded as he got up from the desk and walked into the hall with Jolene.

I stared at the phone and the number and played through how the call could go:
She wouldn’t answer at all.
She would say “hey, yeah, that sucks, but I can’t help you because I’ve moved on with my life. I’m changing the number now.”
Or she would drop the phone, drive across town, and pick me up in front of the church. We would then leave town and never talk to our former family again.

I picked the handset up and heard the buzzing dial tone.
I stood up and dialed the number.

There was a click on the line and a male voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s…It’s Micheala. Is Leslie there?”
“Who is this?” The question was more like he wondered if he was actually talking to someone, not a confirmation of who I was.
“Mich- I mean, Taylor,” I felt like stabbing myself at the thought of having to say that name.
“Taylor?”
“Her…her brother.”
“Oh, okay, hang on.”
I sat down in the chair, closed my eyes and tried to hear her in the background.
“Who is it?”
“Your brother?”
“My brother, why would he be calling? Hello?”
I sprung up from the chair. “Leslie?”
“Taylor?”
“Michaela. Hey, how are you?”
“I’m pretty good. I mean, it’s a dream to be away from everything. You know?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of why I’m calling.”
“Did you know that we’re getting ready to move?”
“Where?”
“Bill’s got a building job in Colorado. Actual snow, you know?”
“Yeah. Can I go with you?”
“Go with me?”
“With the both of you. You said you’d come back for me. That I would have to wait but I can’t wait any longer.”
The line was quiet for a moment and I must have bit my tongue as I felt blood in my mouth along with the feeling that I was about to explode in a torrent of tears and blubbering.
“Have you talked with mom and dad?”
“What’s to talk about? They practically want me out of the house.”
“Where are you?”
“In town.”
“You’re not in school?”
“You’re not either,” I replied.
“Heh, yeah, you’re right. You should be though. Education’s important.”
“Leslie.”
“So mom and dad don’t know where you’re at?”
“They don’t care.”
“Where are you?”
“So you can come and get me, right?”
“No, so we can let mom know.”
“Mom doesn’t want me! Dad doesn’t care if I live or die. Leslie, what about what you said? Help me!”
“You’re fine. You’re strong!”
“I need help,” I sobbed into the phone.
“I can’t give you the help you need. I’m kind of drifting along now.”
I didn’t reply.
“Taylor?”
I kind of wanted to scream into the phone but I was too crestfallen.
“Taylor? Hello?”
“My name’s Michaela. Remember?”
“Really? I thought that was all over.”
“Wha-?” My throat swallowed up everything else I tried to say. I could feel my eyes dilating from the pain my heart and mind. The person who I looked up to. The one who made me feel like I could tell her everything—was shunning me.
“I’m sorry for you feel like this.”
“Don’t apologize. Don’t talk to me. Don’t. Ever. Talk. To. Me. Again!” I screamed as I slammed the phone down.

I stood up and screamed in a voice so shrill one would assume I had been murdered.
And it felt that way.

I sank to my knees, ripping the dress in the process but not caring. I just wanted to die.

The final person I thought would care for me was gone.

I felt alone.