Never Be Alone Page 9

  “Well, me and Gia are fifteen. When you get to be our age and are still living on the streets, then you’ll know what being homeless is all about. Until then, just keep your trap shut.”

  Joon shoved her hands into her pockets and looked away, so the older girls didn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. She turned to Gia. “I have to go. Maybe I’ll see ya around.”

  “Sure thing, Joon. I’ll walk ya downstairs.”

  Once the two girls were outside, Gia looked at the girl seriously. “Hey, thanks again, Joon. Ya know Fipple doesn’t mean anything. She’s just bitter she ain’t got a house and parents like other kids our age. Sorry if she took it out on you.”

  Joon shrugged. “It’s fine. I know someone a lot meaner than Fipple.”

  “All right, cool,” Gia said, nodding. “I, ya know, owe you one.”

  As Joon traced her route back into Center City, she thought about Fipple and Gia. It was too bad they didn’t have someone like Ragtop to take care of them, but at least they had each other. When she got back to the motel room and opened the door, Ragtop was sitting on the bed, leaning up against the wall.

  “Where did you go?” she asked. “You’ve been gone awhile.”

  “I met a girl named Gia. Some boy was beating her up in the subway and I helped stop him,” Joon said proudly.

  “What?” Ragtop looked jarred. “Wait. Back up. You went down into the subway?”

  Joon heard the edge in Ragtop’s voice and nodded apprehensively.

  “I told you flat-out that you’re never to go into the subway without me,” she said.

  “I know. But I heard the girl crying and the boy yelling at her. You also told me never to be afraid, so I went down to help her.”

  “For the love of God, girl. I didn’t mean that you should walk straight into danger. I meant that fear doesn’t do jack shit for ya. It’s okay to be scared of real things, like someone being violent in front of you.”

  Joon’s forehead wrinkled and she tilted her head to the side, tears welling in her eyes.

  Ragtop softened. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she said. “Who was this girl?”

  “Her name is Gia and she lives a mile or two from the square,” she said. “I walked to a boarded-up house where she lives. There’s a bunch of other people living there too. Gia’s friend Fipple wasn’t very nice to me, but I didn’t let her see that she hurt my feelings.”

  Ragtop flew off the bed and stood next Joon, resting her hands gently on the child’s shoulders. “Now wait. You went off with a girl that ya just met to a house that you never been to before. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

  Joon’s eyes grew wide. “Gia is really nice. She was excited that I helped her with that boy.”

  Ragtop led Joon over to the bed, and they sat together. “Sugar, it don’t matter how nice somebody is to you. Don’t ever go off with people ya don’t know. What if Gia were working for one of the pimps?”

  Joon thought about it a moment and her eyes clouded with fear. “I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t need you to be sorry. I need you to think about what you’re doing when you’re alone. It’s okay this time, ’cause it worked out, but next time, you might not be so lucky. You pay close attention to me: don’t you ever go off with people you don’t know.”

  Ragtop stood in the bathroom doorway. “I’m gonna take a bath, and then we’re gonna watch the parade on TV together. After that, we’ll go out and get us a big turkey dinner.”

  Joon sat on the bed. “Okay,” she mumbled, and the woman walked to the bathroom. “Ragtop?”

  “Yeah, Joon?”

  “That girl, Fipple—she said that if I’m still on the streets when I’m fifteen, then I’ll know what being homeless is all about. Do you think I’ll still be homeless when I’m fifteen?”

  “I don’t know, Joon. Getting off the streets ain’t easy,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t matter how old you are. People see ya different than them.”

  “Like how?”

  “People who don’t live on the streets think that you wanna be homeless or that you made yourself homeless somehow. They don’t understand that, for a lot of us, we don’t have nowhere else to turn. Just like you. You didn’t have a soul in this world who could help you. After you’re homeless for a while, it gets hard to pick up your life again. You’re just a kid. You gotta have a future planned; otherwise, you’ll be on the streets for a long time. But I ain’t got the perfect answer—all I know is that you gotta keep learning and moving forward.”

  Joon knew what it was like to be thought of as different. She’d never fit in at school and certainly not with Aron and her sons. “How do we make people stop looking at us like we’re different?”

  Ragtop rubbed her temples. “Well, I don’t know exactly, but what I’d say is, if you wanna change the way people think, you need to make a difference somehow. Ya know, do something that’s so special they can’t help but see you as a real person.”

  Joon thought about that for a few seconds. “Do you think someday I can do that? Something that’s real special?”

  Ragtop smiled at the girl. “I sure do, Joon. I think you can do whatever you set your mind to, and someday, somebody is gonna see how great you really are. Just don’t forget me when you’re all rich and famous,” she teased.

  “I’ll never forget you. That would be like forgetting my real mom. You’re my other mom.”

  Touched by Joon’s words, Ragtop teared up and turned away quickly. “I’m gonna get cleaned up.”

  Joon scooted onto the bed and leaned up against the wall. Someday, I’m gonna do something special and show all the people that just because you don’t have a home, it doesn’t mean you’re not the same as them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  By mid-December, Joon had noticed a change in Ragtop. The woman had been distant since Thanksgiving, and she slept whenever she wasn’t working, to the point where Joon felt as though she lived on her own. It was nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning when Ragtop entered the motel.

  “Where have you been?” Joon asked cautiously.

  “Working,” Ragtop snapped, throwing her purse on the floor.

  Joon recoiled and watched the woman to gauge how angry she was, but Ragtop wouldn’t make eye contact. “You used to come home when it was still dark outside. How come you don’t anymore?”

  Ragtop undressed quickly, refusing to look at Joon. “I got more clients, that’s how come. I don’t wanna talk. I need to sleep.”

  “You always sleep when you’re here. Then you wake up and go out again. It’s not like it used to be,” Joon complained.

  “Yeah, well, things change sometimes. When you get older, you’ll understand that.”

  Joon was quiet. Her angst at being alone again stifled her voice. She wondered if she would be less afraid when she got older. Joon’s years with Aron had instilled in her a sense of paranoia about trusting people, but she also had a fear of being alone, terrified she’d continue to be abandoned by those who loved her. While Joon acted pleasant outwardly, on the inside, she grappled with her insecurities—she had a hard time feeling like she deserved it when good things happened. Her past experience had taught her that good things eventually left and bad things hung around.

  Ragtop glanced over and saw the vacant look in Joon’s eyes. “Come on, now. Everything is gonna be fine,” she said before turning her back to Joon to finish undressing.

  Joon watched Ragtop and noted that there was a lack of emotion in her words. Maybe Ragtop is just tired from working every night, she thought, trying to convince herself. But then her paranoia took over and she asked, “Did I make you mad?”

  Ragtop threw her shirt on the end of the bed and shrugged. “Nah. You didn’t do nothing wrong. Look, I’m going through some shit. Ain’t everything about you all the time, okay?”

  “But it feels like you don’t ever wanna be around me anymore. We never have any fun together and we n
ever—”

  “Stop it!” The woman pushed her dreadlocks over her shoulder, turned with her hand on her hip, and stared at Joon. “I’m sick of you asking a million questions and actin’ like I don’t take care of you. You have a place to live and food to eat. Ain’t that enough? What more do you want from me?”

  Hurt to the core and feeling like her fears were coming true, Joon left the bedroom and went into the bathroom. When she was alone, she thought about how much Ragtop had helped her and she felt bad for how she’d spoken to the woman. After she collected herself, she sat on the floor next to the bed, where the woman was already sound asleep, and took comfort in the steady sound of Ragtop’s breathing.

  Over the next week, Ragtop made more of an effort to acknowledge Joon. She didn’t want the kid to feel bad, but she had needs too. Her own needs had become her priority after she’d taken that first hit of crack a few days after Thanksgiving. She had blown through the money she’d saved—nothing, not even Joon, was more important than getting high now. She’d been clean for a long, long time. Once Ragtop was making money to stay in the motel, all the cash in hand drew her to the dope pushers on the streets. At first, she thought she could handle it. Just one hit was all she was looking for to get relief from the pressure she’d placed on herself. She hated prostituting, and being high made it a lot easier. A week before Christmas, she pledged to stop getting high.

  I quit this shit before and I can do it again, Ragtop told herself.

  Chapter Nineteen

  On the morning of Christmas Eve, Joon woke early and turned on the television. She watched all the happy holiday commercials with a heavy heart. People getting ready for Christmas were depressing. Toys, food, Santa, clothes—the ads were nonstop. Everyone looked so content, and it put her at odds with her ability to be grateful for what she had and made her want more of what the people on TV had. Joon couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to have just a few of the things she saw on TV. The young girl walked over to the dresser and grabbed the last breakfast bar. She settled back down and flipped through the channels until she came to a movie: A Christmas Story. She was captivated by Ralphie and his parents. Joon imagined herself in Ralphie’s life, with a mother and father and brother. What seemed so burdensome to Ralphie would have made all the difference for Joon. Ralphie made her angry, and she wondered why he couldn’t see how good his life was with his family.

  When the movie ended, it was close to ten thirty in the morning. Ragtop still hadn’t come back from the previous night, so Joon took a bath and dressed, expecting to see the older woman asleep in the bed when she emerged from the bathroom. But when she was ready, Ragtop still hadn’t returned. Just before noon, there was a knock at the motel door.

  “Who is it?” Joon asked.

  “Motel manager,” a gruff voice responded.

  Joon eased the door open and looked into the man’s face.

  “I need to talk to that woman who stays here.”

  “She’s not here right now, but she’ll be back soon.”

  “Well, I don’t give a damn when she’s coming back. She didn’t pay for the room today, so you gotta leave.”

  “I…I can’t leave. I have to wait for her,” Joon stammered.

  “You can leave and you will leave. I’ll stand here and you can get your things together,” he said as he pushed the door wide open.

  “Go on. Get your stuff or you’re leaving with nothing.” He glared at Joon. “Your choice.”

  Joon hurried around the room, placing their few belongings into a large bag and filling a smaller bag with the little food that was left. When she was finished, she looked at the man, her eyes wide and her bottom lip trembling.

  “How will Ragtop find me if I leave? Please let me wait for her.”

  “Listen, kid, I ain’t in the charity business. What goes on between you and that lady is your business. I have people who are willing to pay for this room, given that it’s Christmas Eve.”

  The motel manager gave her a forced smile that made Joon want to spit on him. She grabbed her bags and walked to the front of the motel. She prayed that Ragtop would walk in and clear everything up, but her prayers went unanswered. When she stepped outside, the icy wind cut through her thin clothing, and she dropped her bags and hugged her body. After waiting several minutes to see if Ragtop would appear, Joon walked away from the motel to look for shelter.

  After about five blocks, she stopped and looked down an alley, her eyes finding a Dumpster. Her winter coat wasn’t enough for the below-freezing temperature. She looked around her on the streets, to make sure that no one was watching, darted into the alley, and squatted next to the large container of trash. She could smell the waste inside the steel box, but instead of being repulsed by the smell of rot, she focused on the small relief she got from the cold wind biting at her flesh. She stayed beside the Dumpster for over an hour, until she ventured back to the motel to look for Ragtop. Not finding her, Joon went into the motel.

  The motel manager threw his magazine aside and propped himself up on his elbows as she walked in. “What’s your problem, kid? Didn’t you hear me? You’re not welcome here.”

  Joon pushed her windblown hair away from her eyes. “I just wanted to know if she came back looking for me.”

  “Ha!” the man grunted. “Get lost, kid. That woman ain’t coming back for you. The party’s over.”

  The man’s words felt like a punch to the gut. Joon turned slowly and walked out onto the streets again. She quickly made her way into the heart of the city, hoping that she’d find one of Ragtop’s friends. The only people out were the last-minute shoppers. Joon sat outside a designer clothing store, and as women entered and exited, she looked up at them, her blue eyes revealing the pain buried deep within her soul. Some women gave her money, but others just shook their heads in disgust.

  Joon had hoped to make enough money to have a meal and get out of the cold, but she hadn’t realized that everything, even most fast-food restaurants, were closed early on Christmas Eve. So she wandered the streets, ducking into doorways to catch her breath when the cold was too much for her to take. Her mind whirled like a tornado, thoughts of how to survive coming and leaving in flashes. She kept walking until she was standing in front of a major department store. People were flowing in and out of the doors, and she fixed her hair neatly under the bandana and entered the store behind a family, pretending to be part of the group.

  The heat inside rushed at her and her skin prickled. Although grateful to be out of the cold, the sensation was unpleasant, almost painful. She kept close to groups of people as she roamed around the three-story building. It was three thirty in the afternoon when an announcement came over the speakers telling shoppers the store would close in thirty minutes. Joon had been inside just under an hour. She slumped as she realized she would have to go back out into the cold. As she sat on the floor off in a corner, camouflaged by racks of clothing, she pulled out a bag of half-eaten pretzels and dipped them in the last of the peanut butter.

  Just before the store closed, Joon made her way out onto the street. She looked left, then right. There were very few people out. Two young women passed Joon, and she heard one say to the other that they were only a ten-minute walk from their destination. Not knowing what to do, she followed the two older women, and ten minutes later, they turned down a residential street. Christmas lights canopied the street for the entire block, creating a warm glow and giving her a kind of joy that Joon hadn’t experienced before.

  Joon kept her distance as she watched the women disappear into one of the row homes. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment before she noticed a narrow alley between the houses. She snuck around the side and, as she did, a window covered with sheer fabric gave her a view inside.

  She listened to the laughter and the steady hum of the voices in the house. She closed her eyes and imagined herself inside with the partygoers, enjoying the food and warmth on this cold Christmas Eve. She slumped against the brick wall
just under the window. Then she pulled the clothes from the bag she was carrying and laid them on top of her.

  She was lonely, and as her unknown, new reality began to take root in the pit of her stomach, she worried about what she’d do next. She was scared that something bad had happened to Ragtop. Joon envisioned Ragtop lying dead somewhere in the city—she was sure that death was the only thing that would have prevented Ragtop from coming back for her. Joon let out a heavy sigh, fearful of the uncertainty she faced, and cried. As her chest heaved with uncontrollable sobs, she remembered what Ragtop had told her: Fear is just our imagination playing tricks on us.

  She gave all of her attention to the statement and slowly regained control over her emotions. When she did, she was again aware of how cold it was outside.

  Joon sat for a while longer listening to the murmur of people inside, and she didn’t feel so alone anymore. Her fear of where to go next slinked away as she focused on the frozen breath coming from her mouth and escaping into the darkness of night until she lulled herself into a frigid sleep.

  When she awoke, her body was stiff. There were still people inside the row home, and as she stood and peered in the window, she saw the crowd had thinned. After shoving her clothes back into the bag, she walked—Ragtop had taught her that in the bitter cold, you can rest, but moving is the only way to avoid death.

  Joon had been walking for fifteen minutes when she saw a group of people walking together. She paused for a moment and then followed the crowd.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was almost eleven thirty that night when Joon entered Saint Monica Roman Catholic Church. The pews were already filling with parishioners for midnight mass. She slid into a pew midway down the side aisle, shoved her bags under the pew in front of her, and sat quietly, hands folded in her lap.

  Joon had never been to a mass before and she felt peaceful as people kneeled, hands together and eyes closed as they prayed. She wanted to pray too but didn’t know how. She watched everyone around her. Praying seemed so simple to other people. Maybe God only teaches good people to pray and doesn’t let the rest of us know how to do it, she thought.