Rock and a Hard Place (22 page)

Peter offered nothing.

“
Come on, dude, what’s
going on? What was that phone call about? Is it Libby?”

“
Yeah, it was about Libby.”
Peter stood, with his hands deep in his pockets, his voice heavy
with emotion.

Their mother entered the kitchen, and rushed
over. “What happened?”

“
She’s gone,” he
whispered.

“
Peter, everything is going
to be okay.” His mother tried to soothe him.

“
No, it’s not okay. It’s
never going to be okay. Don’t you get it? She’s gone. She ran away.
No one can find her. Libby’s hiding and the authorities don’t care.
She’s already become a statistic.” Garrett, Adam and his mother
looked at each other, obviously unsure what to say or
do.

“
She’s out there alone and
she has nothing!” He screamed, fisting his hands in the air,
silencing everyone. “I was all she had. Just me. I was it.” He
spoke to no one in particular, his body tense, a sheen of
perspiration on his brow. “Everyone in her life has let her down
and now you can add my name to this list.”

“
They’ll find her, Pete.
Just give it time,” Garrett said.

“
Don’t be an idiot, It’s
been ten days, everyone she’s ever trusted has let her down. She’s
gone!” The restaurant staff watched his uncomfortable
tirade

Peter slumped forward, his hands gripped the
metal counter meant for food service. “Mom, I promised her. I
promised I’d get her out of there. We had a plan.” I was going to
save her.”

“
I’m so sorry. We should
have done something to help her. I just didn’t realize how
difficult her situation is.”

“
Of course, it’s difficult.
Her life was ripped out from under her. She used to be just like
us. She lived in suburbia with a happy family and a dog in the
backyard. Life happened to her and sucked everything away. Damn
you. All of you!” He looked from one family member to the next.
“All you did was judge her and get in our way.

He gazed down at his Armani suit and
designer shoes. “Look at us, standing around like royalty with more
than we ever imagined; while she is homeless and alone in the
middle of January. She has nothing left. Nothing.” He pounded on
the food prep table. “Where can she go? How will she live?”

“
She’ll find her way. It’ll
work out. Give her credit,” Adam said.

Peter shoved Adam against the wall, knocking
stacks of metal pans to the floor, creating a deafening clatter.
“Yeah, I’m sure most sixteen-year-old girls alone on the streets do
really well. Images of rapists and kidnappers filled his mind. He
tried to shake the thoughts away.

He released Adam, his hands trembling. Shock
shown on Adam’s face. It isn’t like she’ll go back to Rockville. I
sure wouldn’t. I know her better than that. They screwed her
over.”

“
Maybe she’ll find you.
Maybe she’ll be at a show one day.” His mother offered.

“
Right, she’ll just stand
up in her seat and call my name to let me know she’s there. Or
maybe she’ll just walk up to the bus and knock on the door. Explain
to me how this is going to work.” He faced his mother; sadness
filled his eyes.

Cheers sounded from the next room. Their
manager popped in. “You got it! You got nominated for album of the
year! Can you believe it?! Get in here!”

They looked each other, the contrast of
their lives and Libby’s glaringly obvious.

# # #

Libby walked alone, her muscles sore from
sitting on a bus too many hours. She liked the bus though. Once
onboard, she disappeared in the back unseen. By the time she got
off, several states later, a new driver sat up front.

This town was ‘middle of nowhere Georgia’,
as Peter would say. More than anything she longed to talk to him,
but knew those days were long gone.

As she wandered the streets of the small,
town of Pebble Creek, she wished for an easy solution to her
problems. But it was far too late for easy. Her mother used to say,
‘life can be an uphill battle, so you better keep your head down
and keep climbing.’ Who knew how true those words would prove to
be. She thought about her mom a lot on the bus and the drastic
changes in her life the past two years. It started as a happy,
normal family then fell into tragedy -- a broken family and
delinquent runaway. She realized she’d accepted her mother and
sister’s death. The months of debilitating grief were past. Now the
loss had become a part of who she was, it no longer defined her. In
fact, she believed they watched her from the heavens with love.

Her stomach grumbled and interrupted her
thoughts. With money running low, she needed to settle for a bit.
She scanned each store front in hopes of finding a “help wanted”
sign. At this point, she’d be willing to do just about anything to
make some money. Anything, but go back to Rockville or the group
home.

By the time she reached the edge of town,
disappointment weighed on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. The
last building before the road turned into the countryside was a
battered motel called The Twilight. A vacancy sign blinked on and
off, except for the broken last three letters. Scraggly weeds beat
down the grass in sporadic patches around the perimeter. The motel
could lead the list of tacky places to stay, but a real bed and a
shower tempted her enough to approach.

The screen door squeaked as she entered a
rundown office, a television blared cartoons from a backroom.

Libby stood in the middle of the small
lobby, afraid to be noticed, but desperate to know if she could
afford one night. A woman’s voice yelled in the background.
“Damien, stop poking your brother.” The woman walked past the open
doorway, looking up in time to see Libby.

“
Hang on, hun, I’ll be
right with ya,” her voice sounded harried.

The woman returned with a baby on her hip.
“Okay, can I help you?” She eyed Libby. “Well?”

“
I’m sorry, I was just
wondering how much for a room?”

“
Single or
double?”

“
Um, just a
single.”

“
Forty-five bucks. Cash or
credit card, no checks.”

Libby mentally recounted her money. The
toddler started to smell.

“
I ain’t got all day. Do
you want it or not?”

“
Yeah, I do.” She stepped
up to the scratched counter and dug in her pocket for
cash.

“
Sign in here.” The woman
pushed a small card at her requesting her name and
address.

Libby stared at the card, then, trying not
to look nervous, grabbed the pen and signed the name Jill Munroe.
It was the first name that popped into her head. Her mother always
loved the television show Charlie’s Angels. Jill Munroe was her
favorite character, a beautiful, confident cop. Why she thought of
that now she couldn’t guess. Libby made up an address, scribbled
the signature and pushed the card back toward the woman.

“
That’s forty-nine
eighty-two with tax.” She shifted the child to her other hip and
peeked into the backroom. “Damien, get down from that cupboard
right now or I’ll tan your little hide. No more
cookies!”

Libby counted out fifty dollars and placed
it carefully on top of the card.

“
That child will be the
death of me yet, the rotten little bugger, just like his
father.”

Libby smiled weakly and hoped the woman
would remain distracted and not question why a teenager was renting
a room at two o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon.

“
Here you go, room eight.”
She handed her the key and her change. “I’ve gotta get this one
changed before I have a bigger mess on my hands.” The woman scooped
the cash and card behind the counter then vanished into the chaos
of the back room.

Libby picked up the key and then paused to
be sure the clerk wouldn’t return. When the coast was clear she
took a huge handful of candies from a dish on the counter. She
walked with a skip in her step as she went to find her room. A
clean bed, a warm shower and hard candy to enjoy, life was looking
up.

The room turned out to be little more than a
closet. The walls were thin and the fuzzy old television barely
worked. The shower walls were marred by rusty water stains, but the
faucet provided hot water. Between the tiny soap for shampoo and
the touch of water, butter soft as it rolled over her, she hadn’t
felt this good in weeks. Libby spent more time under the spray
washing out her panties and socks. Finally, exhaustion and wrinkled
finger tips coaxed her to turn off the shower. After drying with a
thin towel and hanging her undergarments over the shower rod, she
fell into bed, asleep almost as soon as her head hit the
pillow.

The next morning Libby woke slowly. She’d
slept straight through the evening to the next day. She sat up in
bed and noticed her groggy reflection in the dresser’s chipped
mirror. Her hair was a mess of blond, split-ends; she couldn’t
remember the last time she’d trimmed it. The tangled strands fell
to her waist. Dark circles shadowed below her eyes. She really
needed mascara. Her adrenaline had been churning for so long from
her fear of being caught, that she’d let her looks go.

She needed to regroup and figure out what to
do next. Her money would only pay for another night or two and then
she’d be out on her own again. While in Chicago, waiting overnight
for the next bus south, she slept on the streets and spent most of
the night terrified, freezing and heartbroken.

She pushed the thoughts away. A pity party
wouldn’t solve any thing. She got up and slipped into her dirty
jeans and pulled on a cami and a long-sleeved shirt. Her socks were
still damp, so she set them on the heat register and slipped into
her tennis shoes sans socks. She pushed her cash deep into the
front pocket of her jeans. Her life savings. It was meager, but
enough to survive on for a few more days. After sliding the room
key in her back pocket she grabbed her coat and braced the cool
December air.

The squeaky door of the office announced her
arrival. The familiar drone of a kid’s show seeped in from the next
room. The frazzled voice of the desk clerk sounded as she popped
her head around the doorway to see who interrupted. She held a
phone to her ear. “Just a minute,” She said and disappeared behind
the wall.

Libby examined the tourist pamphlets
displayed in a rack while she waited for the conversation to
end.

“
No, I don’t know when I’ll
be able to bring the kids again. I’m trying to keep this place
afloat by myself and Jimmy, Jr.’s asthma is flaring up again.
Jimmy, I’m not blaming you. I’m doing the best I can is all. I
gotta go, I’ve got a customer.”

Libby heard the phone clunk back onto the
cradle and pretended to read a brochure about underground
caves.

“
Men.” The woman said,
coming back around the corner. “You certainly can’t live with ‘em
and it’s near impossible to live without ‘em.” She pushed her
bleached hair out of her flushed face. “You checking
out?”

“
Uh, no. Do I have to yet?”
Libby didn’t realize she’d have to check out so soon.

“
No, checkout’s at eleven,
but I can give you till twelve if you need it, not like I’m gonna
get to cleaning your room anytime soon.”

“
Actually, I was thinking
of one more night.”

“
Whatever suits you.
Anything else?” She clicked her polished fingertips on the
counter.

“
Yes, I was wondering if
you have a scissors I could borrow.”

“
Let’s see. There should be
one around here somewhere.” She rifled through drawers and shuffled
papers. “Whatcha need it for?”

Libby’s face warmed, she wanted to lie, but
couldn’t think fast enough. “For my hair.”

The woman examined Libby closely. “I see.
Needing a new look are you?”

Libby nodded.

“
Well who am I to
interfere? It’s your business. Here you go.” She handed over a pair
of scissors. “Be sure to return them.”

“
I will, I promise.” Libby
took them and quickly went to her room.

Less than thirty minutes later, Libby
returned the scissors. The woman stood behind the counter, adding
numbers on a small desk calculator. She looked up as Libby
entered.

“
Well, let’s see your
handiwork.”

Libby turned around revealing her shortened
tresses. She meant for her hair to reach below her shoulders, but
the length was crooked and each time she tried to fix it, the other
side became uneven.

“
Oh honey, that’s the worse
haircut I’ve ever seen.”

Libby’s heart fell. She knew it wasn’t
great, but she didn’t realize it was so bad.

“
Come around back here and
I’ll fix it up if you like.”

Libby hesitated, not sure if she should.

“
Come on, I won’t bite your
head off. I’m pretty handy with a scissors. I cut all my boys’
hair, saves a heap a money. I cut Jimmy’s hair too, up until he got
arrested and sent off to prison. That man is a fool if ever I saw
one.”

“
Well, if you’re
sure.”

“
Course I am. I was all
signed up for cosmetology school when I got pregnant with Jimmy,
Jr. Shattered my dreams until I saw the little bugger. Cutest thing
you ever did see.”

“
By the way, I’m
DarLynn.”

“
I’m Jill.” She offered her
hand along with the fake name. It would be a long time before she
trusted someone with the truth.