If- Nina G. Jones Page 0,1

live on ramen. I loved Jordan, but he had already helped me out so much, and I didn’t want him to shell out another thirty-five bucks on me.

Jordan was right to be concerned. Our apartment building was located near the border of Skid Row and the more developed part of Downtown LA. Our building provided access to free parking, but that was in a detached garage several blocks away.

Getting back to the building meant walking through Skid Row, a place that lived up to its infamy. Homeless people slept under tarps, the stench of urine was pervasive, garbage lined the streets. I thought myself brave and cosmopolitan, like that hipster who moves to the crime-riddled area, thinking that because they weren’t on the streets, they somehow hovered above its dangers. If I just minded my business, no one would bother me, I told myself. But the truth was I almost always had Jordan, all 6’4” of his statuesque dancer build, right by my side.

I guess that was one of my flaws—I didn’t like to admit when I was scared.

Besides, it wasn’t that late, only seven-thirty or so. I would be fine. I knew if I told Jordan I was busing, he would force me to take money, so I just saved myself the embarrassment and him the fight.

“You sure?”

“Yup. I’ve got it handled, my love,” I said to him, as I tugged on his sparkly short-shorts. “I wish I could fill these out like you.”

“Honey, you got a booty too,” he kissed my temple and glanced back towards the club. “I have to go. Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

“You got it.”

The bus ride home was so much longer than a cab ride, but you get what you paid for. Unfortunately, by the time I stepped out of the bus the sun had long set, and I had a much darker walk home than I had anticipated.

As I stepped off the bus, I considered Jordan’s voice nagging me to find a cab. I did a quick mental calculation, and it just wasn’t worth the hassle and money when I could just walk for five minutes and be in the safety of my apartment building. I looked around, and took a deep breath to fortify myself for the short walk.

If I just minded my own business, no one would mess with me. That was usually how it worked out here.

ASH

I bet in a million years, no one who knew me a few years ago would have thought I’d have ended up on Skid. I know I wouldn’t have. But it was exactly where I needed to be. Hidden. Somewhere I could be forgotten and where I could forget; the people I’d hurt, the opportunities I’d destroyed.

I had lost it all—some things I had no choice but to lose, and others I surrendered.

At one time, I had something valuable, something that gave me so much promise—my ability to paint the world in a way that could only be seen uniquely through my eyes. But I couldn’t do that anymore, because it triggered something ugly in me. The only solution to that ugliness was to turn it all off.

I had no purpose anymore. No job to go to. No friends to visit. Each day I wandered. I might spend weeks at Skid and then move elsewhere for a while, maybe stop and visit my brother, the only person from my old life who I was still connected to. But it was all the same: a monotonous blur of cars, trees, buildings, and people on their cell phones.

People went on about their lives around me, and I was a living ghost, walking the streets of LA.

It’s strange though, how amidst the grayness of depression and destitution, a light can shine through the cracks.

There was this girl. Whenever I was on Skid, she walked by at differing hours of the day. I usually spent my days inside of my head, disengaged from the world, but when I saw her laughter or her voice, I had no choice but to pay attention. I don’t want to use the word excited, but I’d be lying if I said that knowing she was about to pass by didn’t make me just that.

She was usually with a guy, tall and muscular, but if I had to wager a guess, he wasn’t batting for her team. I don’t know why it made me happy that they were likely not involved, but it did.

I had a