kept on walking, accidentally colliding with Burt as she raced up the front steps. “Whoa there, missy!” he said. “Where’s the fire?” He stank of alcohol and cigarettes; his white T-shirt had a brown stain on the sleeve. “Rent’s due Monday. Want some company?” He leered at her, and Kelli had to hold back the bile in her throat. She heard her father’s voice: Whore.
That was it. She needed to leave San Francisco. She couldn’t stay there a minute longer. Her past was nipping at her heels. She pushed past Burt and ran down the hall. “Hey!” he said. “Where you goin’?”
“I’m leaving,” she called out over her shoulder. “Moving out.” She was on a week-to-week lease; she didn’t need to give him notice.
“Wait a minute! You still owe me for this week. At the full rate!”
Kelli grabbed her suitcase from the closet and opened the lining where she kept her cash. Burt appeared in her doorway. “You hear me?” he bellowed, and she practically threw a stack of bills at him.
“There,” she said, her voice breaking. “Now, please, just leave me alone.” She slammed the door in his face and began to pack her bag. She would start again. She’d create the best version of herself, only showing people the bright, happy side of who she was. She’d work hard, fall in love, and maybe even have a family of her own.
When the taxi she called arrived, she strode out to the street, keeping her eyes on the ground, not answering when Jenna and Macy asked her where she was going. She climbed in the backseat of the yellow cab and told the driver where to take her.
Twenty minutes later, she was at the bus station and she stood in front of a bulletin board, wondering where she should go. A brochure caught her eye, a picture of the Space Needle and a snowcapped mountain against a dazzlingly blue sky. Seattle. All Kelli knew about the city was how wet it was always supposed to be, and so she closed her eyes and imagined the clouds, the lush green grass, wondering whether if she lived there long enough, all that rain might finally wash her sins away.
Grace
December was generally a dark month in Seattle, and along with everything else that was happening, I couldn’t help but think it was contributing to my foul mood. It was the Monday morning after Victor and I fought over Ava’s stealing, and I’d arrived at the office early to catch up on some of the work that was piling up. I had client files to review, grant requests to compose, but instead of accomplishing any of that, I sat at my desk, staring out the window at the cloud-laden sky.
“Okay,” Tanya said when she entered my office to bring me a stack of checks to sign. She gave me a stern look and tucked her thick mane of curls behind her ears. “What’s up with you?”
I averted my eyes from her and forced a short laugh. “Nothing. Just feeling a little overwhelmed by the workload.”
“I don’t think so.” She peered at me. “Something going on with Victor and the kids?”
I kept my eyes on my computer screen and my fingers poised on the keyboard, thinking about how easily I’d been frustrated by Ava’s poor behavior, how a better, more loving woman wouldn’t have been. “I just don’t think I’m very good at this mothering thing,” I said. Tears pricked my eyes as I spoke those words. It was hard to admit, even to myself, but over the years I did question whether there was something fundamentally wrong with me because of my decision to not have kids. I talked a good game—blaming the years I spent taking care of my brother, citing my drive to have a career and the insecurity around whether I could be a good mother—but deep in my belly there was a seed of doubt that any of this was true. Maybe the consensus about women who weren’t naturally maternal was true—I was heartless. Or, at the very least, the heart I did have wasn’t built for the kind of selfless existence motherhood demands. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out to share my life. Maybe I’d be better off on my own.
Tanya gave her head a quick shake, and her springy black curls bounced. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” She smiled at me thoughtfully. “Do you remember when we first met at the thrift shop? I’d been living