Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Going South: In the City


A ride sounds great. I am so tempted to accept. But my gut tells me not to. Damn Bosley for putting me in this situation!
“No, thanks, Henry. I’d rather walk.” Walking away will put an end to this conversation.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” He drives alongside me. “But why didn’t you just go to Loco-mat? It’s practically on your block.”
My heart races as I come to a standstill. … “I told you I want the exercise,” I say, injecting cheeriness.
He looks doubtful as we both watch each other, waiting for the next move.
“Is everything okay at home, Ana?”
All I have to do is walk away. Say yes and walk away. But confession kicks up inside me, whirling about, flipping my stomach, stealing my breath. He seems so sincere. Maybe he can take me away from here. Maybe he can save me.
The pause goes on too long, only confirming his suspicion, I’m sure. I mean to tell him everything but instead I say, “Everything’s fine,” and then wonder why my instinct is working so hard against accepting help from him. “I’m gonna get going now, Henry. Thanks so much for stopping to offer a ride.” This time I walk away more briskly, with purpose, with a goal. When I’ve walked a few steps, he rides off, shouting a goodbye out the open window, holding one hand up in a motionless wave.
I wonder as he disappears around a corner whether it was crazy of me to pass him up. He could have been my only chance at survival. He could’ve been my death.
The strange heat of the mid-April sun steals my attention. A breeze blows, giving me relief for a moment. As I wander in search of a bus stop, sidewalks lead me in and out of thin Spring shade. My feet hurt. My neck is one big knot.
At last! I spot a bus stop – a measly little sign indicating a bus may stop here at some time today. I’ll wait all day if I must. It’s my only way out of here. Thankful to ditch the bags, I take a seat on the curb and shade my face with my hand.
An hour and a half later, I’m melting, parched and losing hope. I check my phone for the time. Almost noon. Surely a bus will come around soon. After tossing my phone back into my purse, I decide to check my wallet for cash, suddenly afraid he’s taken that too.
When I see a twenty, I let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps he didn’t think I’d get this far. Maybe he thought I’d have no need for cash - or credit cards - if I couldn’t leave the house. Twenty isn’t much but at least it’ll get me out of here so I can figure out what to do.
The hum of the bus engine grows louder as it approaches. In a moment, I’m on my feet, the duffle and laptop bags strung across my chest and over my shoulder. It slows to a stop, the doors pop open and I step in, what-if’s clouding my thoughts.
The air inside is cool, almost cold, sending a shiver through me. The doors close briskly behind me and I struggle to find my balance as the bus moves on. Two other riders sit silently, staring out opposite windows, ignoring each other. I fumble for my cash, eyeing the strange machine while trying to stay on my feet.
“How much?” I say. Then without waiting for an answer, “Where are we going?”
The driver gives me a look, then points to the machine. “Two fifty. Downtown.”
Not my first choice but how many do I have really? I feed my only twenty to the machine and wait for it to spit out my change.
Still trying to make sense of things, I gaze out the front window, the world outside a blur. Details seem lost as I try to remember the events that led me here, in denial that Bosley could do all the things he’s done. Did he do it alone? Or did Damian help him? Is it the first time Bosley’s done something like this or just the first time I discovered it?
Twenty minutes later, I and the other two passengers are dumped downtown. An ATM is the first thing to catch my eye, drawing me to it like a magnet. Get all the cash you can, I tell myself, before he discovers you’re gone. What is the limit? How much can I get? I close my eyes in a silent prayer before inserting my card. I try $1000, anxious about carrying that much cash in the city but worried it’s all I’ll have for …who knows how long.
A receipt delivers my rejection. I push the card back in and try $500, holding my breath while I wait for the verdict. Inside, I hear it beating out the twenties and my heart races, thankful to be getting something.
I grab the wad of bills and shove them into my purse, clutching it tightly under my arm until I can hide them better. In the stall in a restroom at the back of a convenience store, I split the wad up into smaller chunks, shove a few in my pocket, split some more between duffle bag pockets, slip three into my bra, put several in my wallet until the entire amount is all split up and concealed.
Sitting at a greasy table in fast food joint crammed between two skyscrapers, I contemplate my next move. Am I safe here in Boston? Will he find me? Will he come after me? I could get a hotel for the night. But could he trace my card? Damn, if he can, then he can trace my withdrawal. Should I move on? Get further away? I can’t go far with only $500. Can’t even afford to stay in a hotel. I just know I must get further away. I feel the city closing in on me, eyes on every corner and in every window, watching me.
A taxi delivers me to the nearest bus station where I discover I can get to Hartford for only $15 but will have to wait three days until Friday when it runs next. I’ll be caught and killed before then. Back at the curb, I hale another taxi.
“What is the fare to Hartford?” I ask.
The woman looks at me over her shoulder as if to confirm I really just asked a taxi driver to take me to Hartford. “Hartford, CT?”
“Yes. Hartford, CT.
She pulls out a spiral bound book from the console arm rest and flips through. “$300.”
Crud. That’s way too much. My options are dwindling and with each failure my pulse picks up speed and my stomach tightens a notch. What can I do? Where will I go?
“Where to ma’am?” the taxi driver calls, apparently not her first attempt to get my attention.
“Sorry,” I say and get out. Alone on the street of a massive city with loads of people, transportation and lodging, I am lost. I just want to hide, want to curl up in a safe place until it’s all over. I begin to pace slowly down the sidewalk, passing store fronts, busy people rushing in and out through glass doors, car horns honking, walk signs buzzing, sun shining, heart racing, mind numb.
My body twists abruptly as someone bumps my shoulder, calling out an apology as he retreats. My fingers automatically tighten around the straps of my bags and I scowl. Has he pick-pocketed me? I can’t check now, out in the open. A woman emerges from a plain white door and smiles at me on her way by. The smile is unexpected and soothes me for a moment.
Then I notice the sign over the door – Shelter. I glance quickly down the street where the woman was headed to get another look at her. She looked much like me. Does she stay here or does she work here? Could I go in there? Could I stay for the night? Would they let me? If not as a guest, then maybe as a worker.
~~ Should Ana stay at the shelter? ~~
<a href="http://www.buzzdash.com/polls/should-ana-stay-at-the-shelter-198642/">Should Ana stay at the shelter?</a> | <a href="http://www.buzzdash.com">BuzzDash polls</a>

Vote by the poll. The official tally will be taken from the poll which closes midnight Thursday (your local time).
In addition, leave comments below if you’d like to expand on your vote. Click on the word ‘comments’ below to open the comments form. Watch next Tuesday for the following episode based on your votes.
Note: Don’t vote according to what you think I want for the story. Vote as if you were Ana or Ana were your friend. What would you do?
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At 50 readers, I'll give away a free copy of Livid.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow how much does a hotel cost over there? She has 500 bucks and considers a shelter? No way that cash would be gone before she woke up! She may just as well try her hand at poker! lol.

Greta Stone said...

Well if she only has $500 and is assuming he'll freeze the account within hours, she won't want to use up even $80 on a hotel, never mind the average $150 or higher for a Boston hotel. If you thought you only had $500 to live on for who knows how long, what would you spend it on? Or would you try to conserve every penny? Offer some suggestions for Ana and I just might use it in the next episode. :-)

Modo B said...

That's just was I was thinkin', Greta! She needs to hoard that money. So Yes. She should stay.

Modo B said...

Oh! And one big discrepancy. She pulls out her PHONE to check the time then drops her PHONE back into her bag! Last installment, it's established he took her phone.

Anonymous said...

Hi Greta
It seems to me that given her state of mind a shelter is the last place she should go. If I were in her shoes (I would look silly!) I would catch a train out of there. Surely her meagre budget could push to a train ride. She gets to rest up and gather her thoughts. The additional benefit would be that if she did something random like that and Bosley tried to find her, his chances would be slim. If she doesn't know where she is going ...how could he? Also, a shelter or hotel would be a pretty obvious place for him to look. Question why doesnt she try to get more cash? She tried 1000 dollars then got 500. Maybe there is another couple of hundred available.

Alain Miles said...

I think the shelter will give her anonymity. Too late to vote, like a lot of people in the UK today.

Sybil Nelson said...

Wow! 50-50 split. This was an exciting chapter. I think she should stay at the shelter. Why not? A free night's stay and Bosley would never think to look there.

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