“You most certainly are not going to cancel, Anne,” Kate declared authoritatively. She had a pen tucked behind her ear alongside her short brown hair and an inventory clipboard in her hands.
I sighed. I had been hoping that Kate would actually be the one to talk me out of it, because I already knew how I felt. I wanted to go. “He’s a stranger, Kate.”
Kate shrugged, sitting her trim 45-year-old body down on an ancient wooden stool. “I was a stranger too, Anne. Look how well that turned out.”
“That’s different,” I argued weakly.
But it was different. I had met Kate at a small diner on the outskirts of Denver, rather close to the outlying bus station that Murphy and I had arrived at only two days prior. I’d managed to secure a “pay by the day” single bedroom at a run-down motel, giving us, at the very least, a roof over our heads. But it was a small victory, because the sheets were stained, the shower had only let out a trickle of lukewarm water (if it let out anything at all), and I’d killed a dozen cockroaches within the first hour that we’d “settled in”.
It wasn’t that I was too good for it – I hadn’t grown up in anything close to grandeur, and the room was actually quite reminiscent of one of the foster homes I’d been placed at after my grandparents were both dead. But I wanted better for Murphy. I didn’t want him to have the same memories that I did – the same sense of shame and basic self-loathing that followed me everywhere I went. Randall’s trailer hadn’t exactly been The Ritz, but it was quite a few steps up from the place that we found ourselves in.
The diner had been within walking distance – just a mile or so down the mostly abandoned highway. I’d carried Murphy there on the first day, not knowing anywhere else to get food and not wanting to ask anyone either. I had hoped to avoid any and all attention that I possibly could.
But apparently a 23-year-old with a toddler wasn’t a common sight for this particular area. Everyone – from the motel clerk to the waitress to the truckers sitting nearby, plates piled high with grease-laden food – had stared at us. Most of the stares were benign. Some seemed curious. Others were undoubtedly judgmental – disapproving. What exactly they were so disgusted by, I couldn’t really tell, but it only added to the fact that I didn’t belong anywhere – not even there, in a nearly non-existent diner and a run-down wayside motel.
I could deal with all of that, though. I was used to being considered “less than”. What I hadn’t learned about my own worthlessness in my teens – shifting from foster home to foster home – I'd more than realized in all of the years spent with Randall.
Trash. I was trash. Nobody appreciated the presence of garbage – that's what garbage cans were for. There were several points in my past where living in a trash bin – alone, unbothered – would have been an appealing upgrade, actually. So they could stare, they could judge – it was fine. Murphy was my only concern – keeping Murphy safe.
The second day that we trekked to the diner had seemed substantially worse than the first. Now we weren’t just sticking out, we were sticking out in the same place, and the attention was being drawn regardless of my attempts to disappear to Nowheresville, USA.
I also realized that some of the truckers who couldn’t seem to keep their eyes away from us had more than simple curiosity in their eyes. They looked hungry. They looked hungry in a wild, foreboding way that I recognized immediately. It was the same way Randall had looked before he did whatever the hell he wanted to me.
We hadn’t found a safe place at all.
Murphy was focused on the ice cream sundae I’d ordered him, and I was focused on staying alert – aware – while also racking my brain, trying to think of our next move. Trying to think of any move.
There hadn’t seemed to be one.
The circumstances that had brought Kate to that shitty roadside diner were almost as random as my own (albeit much less disturbing). Her mother lived in a nursing home located in the Colorado countryside. Kate said the scenery calmed her mother, who often forgot where she was or why she was where she was.
Kate was tired that day, as she told it to me later. She was dying for a cup of coffee – even cheap, crappy diner coffee – and had taken the exit that led to that wonderful little gem I found myself in. While walking from her truck to the entrance, Kate had overheard a small group of rather rough looking men discussing “the young little babe in there”. Apparently, they had some rather colorful plans for her – whomever “she” was.
Kate had spotted me almost immediately upon entering and bee-lined to our booth, alarming me so badly that I almost screamed.
“I’m so sorry,” she said in a rushed whisper, “but you need to get out of here. There are some gentlemen out there that seem to have taken an interest in you – the bad kind. Come with me – I'll walk you to your car and make sure you take off safe.”
I’d looked up at those serious, concerned brown eyes and felt the whole world caving in.
Nowhere. You belong nowhere. There isn’t a home for you – there will never be a safe place. You will never be able to protect Murphy from this world. This world doesn’t even want you in it.
I’d known that tears had sprung to my eyes, and I shook my head slightly. “I don’t have a car,” I’d whispered back.
Kate had seemed surprised, and then even more deeply determined. “Okay. Then I’ll drive you home. Get your little boy. Let’s leave out the back exit.”
I’d followed this woman, who could very well have been just as dangerous as any of my admirers out front, because I was genuinely out of options. I was desperate, and that desperation would either lead me to more harm, or save me – at least, temporarily.
Nothing can save you. You know that. He’s coming. He’ll find you.
Kate had rushed us into her truck, locking the doors and starting the engine with swift concentration. By the time anyone took notice of us, Kate was rapidly pulling out onto the highway and speeding down the road.
“Am I going the right way?” She had asked me then, checking her rearview mirror to ensure we didn’t have any tag-alongs.
“Yes,” I’d replied, seeing the motel sign in the distance growing closer by the second. “Right up there. On the left.”
When Kate realized where I was actually pointing to, her brow had furrowed deeply. She’d pulled to a stop in the motel’s cracked concrete parking lot and stared at me silently for a few moments. “Here? You’re staying here? With your little one? Here?”
I’d nodded, the tears welling up again. This wonderful woman was trying to help, and now she was realizing that I was beyond helping. I opened the truck door and jumped down, putting my hands out to Murphy, who had eyed Kate inquisitively ever since she’d appeared at our table in the diner.
“Thank you,” I’d said politely, hating myself for the fact that the tears were now spilling down my cheeks. I should have been tougher by then, but I had felt myself breaking.
“What’s your name?” Kate had demanded – not unkindly.
“Anne,” I lied, using my middle name just as I had planned.
“Why don’t you get your things and come stay with me for a bit? We’ll figure out... We’ll get you back on your feet. Please? Come with me?” She’d had an almost motherly quality to her voice, and the concern felt like a soft, warm blanket wrapping around my tired body.