Apparently, 'not enough money in the world' could bail my brother out. My mom still held a grudge against me for it, and on top of everything, she got fired from another job. As to be expected, she was extremely harsh on me the last few weeks.
Good news was, I finally had a place to escape to. I would sneak out to the coffee shop every night, where Josh would buy me coffee (after arguing with me over it for about a week). Once his shift was over at midnight, we would talk about nothing in particular for an hour or two.
It was a nice way to spend the first few weeks of summer. It was a good distraction, too. A great distraction. Only problem was not getting caught out of the house. When my mom found me gone, she lost it. She'd throw things, scream, break anything and everything, including me if need be. In short, it's the worst adult temper-tantrum you've ever seen.
I wouldn't stop leaving, though. A spared bruise wasn't worth staying with my mother all day. Actually, with the way she was, it might've been a bruise or two prevented. My brother knew that, too. He was convinced that if he stayed in that house for too long he'd become like the kids that come from abusive families and turn into monsters. If there's one thing my brother did have the determination to do, it was making sure our mom didn't turn him into someone he wouldn't turn into by himself.
Granted, my brother wasn't exactly the best example, but he had a point. So I started leaving the house more and more, for longer and longer. I would grab some things and walk through the city from ten pm until noon. Then until one. Then until two.
And here I am now. Standing in front of my apartment door at seven p.m. I rocked back and forth on my heels, a nervous habit of mine, as I stared at that dirty wooden door. The TV was blaring inside, so I knew my mom was home. She was going to be pissed, no, furious.
I took a deep breath and whispered, "It's going to be fine," before opening the door.
Practically as soon as I stepped in the door was slammed behind me and a hand yanked me by my hair. I screamed out, trying to pry the fingers off of my head.
"Where the hell were you?!" my mother screamed. I flinched at the sound of her voice. Oh god, she was really mad this time. She pulled me by my hair to bring my face to hers, before screaming again, "Answer me!" That's when I smelled it. Alcohol. Lots of it.
My mom was drunk, insanely drunk. She got even worse when she drank. How long had she been drinking? How much? "I was walking around," I winced out.
She finally let go of me, her green eyes landing firmly on mine. She pointed a not-so coordinated finger out at me, "Out? You were out all fucking day? Someone needs to teach little girls like you a lesson."
She flung the empty beer bottle in her hand at me, and, surprisingly, it hit target. I gasped as the glass hit my in the head, shattering around me.
I stumbled and my back hit the wall behind me. The world seemed blurry and slow as my mom screamed slurred words and hit whatever she could. This was so much worse than before. I had to get out of here and fast.
I ducked away from my mom's spastic motions and made a bolt for the fire escape. I unlocked the window and flung it open as my mom grabbed at my jacket. I let her pull it off of my shoulders and ran down the rusting fire escape. I struggled for breath and willed myself not to fall four stories down as I flew across stairs and ladders that cut at my callused hands. I was unbelievably dizzy.
My worn shoes finally hit concrete, and I bolted. My feet knew exactly where to go.
•••••••
When I finally got to the coffee shop, I had to brace myself on the doorframe of the place. I was dizzy, and everything hurt. Everything was on fire. I gasped in and out. Finally, words surfaced from the muddled buzzing registering in my ears. "Lynn? Lynn, holy crap, are you okay?"
I looked up to see Josh, of course. This was his shift. Panic registered in his kind eyes as he threw an arm around me to support me. He helped walk me over to my usual table in the back.
Once I sat down and caught my breath, I could see clearly. Everything still hurt, but it was a little better.
I finally looked up at Josh, his worried look causing one of my own, "Uh, sorry, I was just..." I trailed off. How was I supposed to explain this one?
"Lynn," he said seriously, his eyes staring intently into mine. "You need to tell me what's going on. You're coming in with new bruises and cuts every couple days. What's going on?"
I could've lied. I could've refused to tell him. But I didn't want to lie to him. He hadn't pried for weeks. He's given me a place to stay. I wanted to tell him. "My-" I stumbled. "My mom."
He was silent for a while before reaching over and hugging me. His arms pulled me protectively into a bear hug I didn't know I needed until now. I was so alone. Without my brother, I didn't have anyone left. I breathed into Josh's shoulder for a while before he finally let go of me. "You need to tell someone, Lynn," he said somberly.
"I can't," I protested, shaking my head. "I don't have any other family. I'll be a foster kid, and no one wants to adopt a thirteen year old."
Before Josh could answer, my phone started ringing. I looked down to see "Holley Hospital" written as the caller ID.
"I, um, this seems important?" I questioned looking up to Josh for permission to answer it.
He nodded, "Yeah, no problem." He looked at his feet a little, his hands behind his back. He seemed unsure of what to do, like I was a stray dog he had taken in and he was a cat person.
I slowly answered and put my phone to my ear, "Hello?"
"Yes, is this Lynn Writchen?" a sweet, young woman's voice replied through the phone.
My throat went dry, my eyes refused to focus, my heart started sinking and beating faster. "Yes-" I choked out, "Yes, that's me. What's wrong?"
"Your-" she paused, "I'm so sorry. Your mother. She passed."
The world seemed to tilt. The chairs and tables bent at the weight of this woman's words. I seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the ground as it spun and churned like my stomach. "She-" I paused for a long time. "How did she die?"
"Alcohol poisoning," she replied softly. "I'm so sorry, dear."
"It's- it's alright." I stammered out, my hands shaking so bad they threatened to drop my phone. "Have a good night." I hung up without waiting for a reply.
I looked up at Josh. He knew exactly what had happened. Why didn't I? My mother didn't seem dead. She was so alive when I saw her an hour ago. I felt numb. No, I didn't feel anything at all. I didn't realize Josh was hugging me until a few minutes later.
He said softly, "Are you going to be okay?"
I shook my head against his shoulder, "I don't have anywhere. I don't have anyone. I have nothing. My mom is dead. My mom. She's-" my throat cut me off. Josh stopped hugging me, looking down at me so I could talk to him. "Why am I not sad? Shouldn't I be crying, or screaming? My mom died and I'm... I don't know." I looked up at him. "I'm evil, aren't I?"
"No," he shook his head, genuinely. "No, you aren't evil at all." He paused for a long time, looking around as if the walls could tell him how to handle this situation. Finally his gaze trained back to me. "Listen, I'll take care of you until this settles out, okay? I don't know where we go to get the paperwork filed for something like that, but I'll figure it out," he paused, biting his lip nervously. "If it's okay with you, I mean."
I stared up at this man I met three weeks ago. This man who bought me free coffee and laughed and talked with me at midnight every day since then just to be nice. This man who, if all he did was work at a coffee shop, couldn't afford to take care of me. I was a liability, and he offered to take me on. I felt like crying happy tears, grateful tears. I stopped myself, somehow. "You can't. I can't let you do that," I objected, trying to be a good person. It was hard, I wanted it more than I ever realized. Especially not at the time. "I'll cost too much and I'll be a liability. I'll just be a foster somewhere. I'll be fine, really, it's okay..." I rambled.
He smiled and laughed a little, his eyes squinting at the edges. "This is like the coffee argument, Lynn. We both know how that went. Plus, this isn't my only job. Affording you isn't a problem. I want to help you if you want me to."
And that's when the happy tears brimmed on the edges of my eyes. I felt my throat close and a small flame of happiness build deep in my chest, rising to a burning fire. "Thank you," I managed to squeak out.