to keep at bay. She already knows me too well.
I raise a hand to stop her. “Wait, it gets better.” I sit up and cross my legs, earning another painful creak from the bedframe. “Another employee stopped on her way by and asked if I could help her bring a pizza to a birthday party she was hosting. Of course I grabbed the pizza and followed closely behind her, being sure to stay out of the way of any missiles—AKA kids. I was two steps away from the birthday table when I tripped on what at the time felt like Mount Everest. In reality, it was a teeny tiny baby shoe.” My rant is abruptly halted when Agnes bursts into a fit of laughter. “A baby shoe?” She slaps her palms on her knees. “You tripped on a baby shoe?”
I give her a mock glare of admonishment. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Anyway, I watched in horror as the greasy cheese pizza soared like a flying saucer and landed directly on top of the cake.”
With my head in my hands, I sigh. “I couldn’t tell who was more hysterical, the mom or the birthday girl. As I tried to help clean up the disaster only I could cause, my third and final strike occurred. I was elbow deep in pizza and cake, trying in vain to save even a semblance of the birthday celebration when a battering ram—okay, it was a kid—hit my legs causing them to give out. The pizza which had been draped over my arms, went airborne again. Only this time, the target was my face, and it hit a bullseye.”
But Oakley, that doesn’t sound any worse than what you’d already done. Yeah, that’s what I thought. “Apparently when I sat up and pulled the pizza pie from my face, the red sauce dripping down my mangled skin was a more than gruesome scene.”
Lips pursed shut, Agnes’ body shakes with the laughter she’s trying to hold in. “Agnes! One child had to be carried away by a parent because they were so terrified of “the monster”. After I gathered what little pride I had left, I finished cleaning my mess, rinsed off in the restroom, and left without another word.”
Agnes is almost having an asthmatic attack by the time I finish my story. “I’m glad my tales of woe amuse you so much.” I scowl.
A throat clearing puts a halt to all laughter as we turn to find Clarise standing next to our bay.
Dread settles into my stomach as she gives me a warm but hesitant smile. “Any luck today, Oakley?”
My returning smile falls flat. “No. Not today.”
She nods as if it was the answer she was expecting. “Sweetheart, I hate to have to remind you, but it’s policy that I do, so please be aware that your prepaid time will be up the day after tomorrow. At that time, if you are unable to pay the fee, we will have to ask that you relinquish your bed.”
I look around the homeless shelter and my heart hollows out. The shelter has been an absolute Godsend. Staying in a women only shelter gives me a sense of security I haven’t felt in years. Along with a caring staff, a night’s stay comes with access to a bed, showers, one meal, and a laundry room.
Things I used to take for granted quickly became things I realized were the hardest to find since being on the run. Sure, I miss binge watching Netflix and drive-thru food, but those things aren’t necessary to my survival.
I’ve never taken my time at Angel’s Cove for granted, and I’ll always be thankful that I had this place. It’s the longest I’ve been in one place since I left home, and it’s going to hurt to leave.
When I first came here, I used what little money I had to reserve as many nights as I could afford. At ten dollars per night, I knew my time would come to an end sooner rather than later. I just thought I was going to be able to find a job before then and be able to stay longer.
I look back to Clarise who is watching me with tearful eyes. She’s a mother hen to everyone who enters her doors, and it breaks her heart each time she has to ask someone to leave. Her heart is too soft for this type of work, but she insists it’s what she loves.
“Thank you for letting me know,” I whisper.
***
Waking