In Between

CHAPTER TWELVE

SOFT RAYS OFlate-afternoon sunshine sliced across my bedroom. I must have cried myself to sleep this morning. My body ached from the position I had fallen asleep in, and my eyes felt as if I had rubbed them raw. Every breath was accompanied by a pounding in my head. For a very brief second, everything was fine. But then, the memories and the pain of what had happened today hit me like a freight train. But I didn’t cry again; I was empty. I refused to cry anymore, not for these people that hurt me and not for myself. I would figure something out.

I walked downstairs to get a drink of water, the apartment seeming eerily empty now that all of Leah’s stuff was gone. This was the time of day where she would normally be cooking dinner or studying in the living room. I double checked that the door was locked then headed back up to my room. My phone screen flashed from my pillow, and I picked it up to see what notifications I had gotten in the past few hours. Damien had called me twice and texted me four times.

Please call me back.

I don’t know what’s going on, but we need to talk about it.

Seriously, why did you leave?

Did I do something wrong?

Fuck him. It was one thing to be an asshole, but it was another to play dumb about it. I threw the phone back down onto the bed.

I needed to go for a walk, I decided. Walking with no real purpose always helped me clear my mind, and I had at least a couple hours of daylight left. So I tossed on some leggings and a hoodie, grabbed my keys, and left.

Having the college campus so close to the apartment was one thing I loved. Even if it could get annoying with all of the other college kids who liked to party every night in the apartment complex, it was a great location. I crossed the street that separated my place from one of the school’s parking lots, then set off on one of the paths that wound through campus. All of the sidewalks seemed to twist around the buildings and connect to others in an odd sort of grid, but I enjoyed the unconventional layout. Now that March was a few days away, the snow and ice from winter had finally melted, and the fresh smell of spring was slowly starting to blow in and take the place of the stark, frigid Midwest winter. Soon, the grass would be green and flowers would be blooming.

I wandered the sidewalks, hands in my hoodie pocket, and thought about how I would only be seeing this place for another couple of months. It was a bittersweet feeling; I loved the feel of the university campus, being a small part of a larger crowd of people, like the collective group of us was the living, breathing part of the school. I loved learning, and I honestly wished there was some way for me to just attend college forever to soak up as much knowledge as I could. But I knew that there were bigger and better things out there for me. That was why I had decided to apply and accept the offer to go to California in the first place; I needed a change, something to pull me out of my comfort zone after living in rural Midwestern towns most of my life. And I couldn’t think of a better way to do that than to move across the country to a state I had never been to.

My brain slowly shifted into planning mode: no emotion, just logistics. I had set aside just enough money to pay for gas, hotels, and a security deposit for traveling and an apartment in California. Rent was due in two weeks, and I had enough extra money saved up to cover that as well. Everything else—groceries, food, other necessities—would be cutting it close. And now I would have to work twice as much just to keep a roof over my head . . .

I had already been working close to 40 hours a week with my writing. There was no way I could double that while also finishing school.

God damn it. What was I going to do?

The pond at the edge of campus came into view, and I decided I could walk the circle around it then head back. I didn’t want to be out here in the dark, and it was getting chilly. The trees, still bare from the recent brutal winter, formed stark outlines against the pink-tinged sky.

People were scattered through the grassy areas aside the pond, some curled up in hammocks with blankets, others in small huddles in the grass surrounded by notebooks and textbooks, and some with fishing poles hanging lazily in the water. Today was one of the first non-frigid days of the year, and everyone was taking advantage of it. So many different people gathered here in this spot every day to appreciate what it had to offer. It was beautiful, even when the grass was still yellow before spring came, with the soft sounds of the water and the trees scattered around the perimeter of the pond. People’s muted voices carried across the area, their soft laughter mingling with the chirps of birds and crickets.

Despite the desperation of my current situation, I felt a pang in my heart at the beauty of everything around me. It made me feel small, but in a good way, like I was just a tiny blip in such a large world. What would it really matter in a year, five years, fifty, that I struggled for a couple of months financially or that a few people screwed me over?

I began my walk home with resolve. I would get through this, money be damned. I didn’t need anyone else’s help.

When I got back to the apartment, the sky had morphed into a vivid splash of oranges, yellows, and purples as the sun set. Locking my door behind me, I walked to my bookshelf, pulled out an empty notebook, and began to do the math of how to survive the next three months. With homework and finals, I could maybe push myself to working 60 hours a week.

I worked with fervor, scribbling numbers across the lines, labeling, multiplying, subtracting. I changed other numbers, convincing myself I could live off ramen and rice for a month or two, or maybe I could walk more places to cut down on gas money.

Nothing worked. No matter how much I tried to make the numbers fit, they wouldn’t. Even cutting into the California fund, I couldn’t do it.

What if I sold my furniture my last month here?I thought. That would make me some extra money. Books and clothes, too. It wouldn’t be much, but it would help. Hell, I thought, I could live in my car for the last month if I really needed to. I had slept in worse places before. And I could use the school’s gym to shower . . .

There. It was decided. I would try to make whatever money I could, and if I couldn’t cover last month’s rent, I could handle living in my car for a month.

I would do whatever I had to do to get where I needed to go.

FOR THE NEXTweek, I threw myself into my work, taking up extra writing gigs online wherever I could. School was getting more arduous since it was halfway through the semester, so homework was picking up pace as well. I spent close to 8 hours typing away on my laptop every day. No TV, no social media, nothing. All of the words blurred into each other, one piece of writing into the next, my body glued to the armchair in the living room except to go to class.

Damien had tried to text and call me a few more times, but after receiving no answers from me, he must have gotten the hint. The last one read I’m worried about you, and I had scoffed when I saw it. Yeah, right.

By the end of the week, I had a perpetual headache, and my wrists and fingers ached from the constant typing. I pushed through on Friday night, staying up late since I didn’t have class the next morning. I slept in for a couple of hours on Saturday, took some aspirin, and got back to work.

By the time 7 p.m. came, I couldn’t manage to stare at my laptop for another second. I closed it after finishing the article I was writing and stared at the wall. What should I do? Staring at the TV sounded unappealing, since I had been staring at a screen all day, every day for the entire week. Similarly, I didn’t want to read a book or scroll through my phone, which both involved staring at more tiny words and pictures.

Well, I thought, it is Saturday night. But I couldn’t afford to waste even a penny right now. The voice inside of me, the one that always seemed to get me into trouble, coaxed, You could go to the bar. There’s no cover charge, and you can flirt long enough to get some free drinks.

Fuck it. I needed to get out and clear my mind. Well, maybe not clear it, but muddle it enough to make me stop thinking. I deserved it. And if I could do it while spending no money, that was even better.

The bathroom counter had so much space now that all of Leah’s items were gone, so I spread my makeup out and began the delicate task of putting it on. I didn’t skimp this time; I needed to feel sexy after the long week I had just had. I contoured my cheekbones, blended out a winged smoky eye, and put on some dark red lipstick. My hair didn’t take much work to look good, thankfully, and I picked out a tight, short, dark blue dress to wear.

When I had finished getting everything into place, I looked into the mirror. And damn, I looked good. I would definitely get some free drinks tonight. I reminded myself to keep my eyes and hands on them at all times, though. The last thing I needed was a repeat of the Luke situation.