Last Olive Bistro ✓

Chapter 24: Home

I was finally able to move around my apartment without the aid of crutches, but was still at their mercy whenever I left, which I tried to keep at the bare minimum. Rory and Morgan wanted to take me out for drinks but I declined so that I wouldn't accidentally reinjure myself somehow before the trip to Connecticut.

The trip was tomorrow, so I began to pack— the easiest task I had to complete in the past several days. I sat on my bed and sorted through a pile of clothes. I picked a few extra ones to go with the new pieces I just purchased.

It lingered in my mind how Jacob told me he would take care of Angela. I was actually scared he would go and have it out with her at the restaurant, but at the same time, I was somewhat relieved that another person could deal with it rather than me. I admitted it was selfish, but you know what 'they' say about desperate times. Jacob was adamant about rectifying it and I tried to trust his judgement based on his prestigious history in the restaurant business. Maybe he would talk to her like one businessperson to another, in regards to an employee.

Why do I still have this? I haven't worn it in two years. It's ugly anyway.

I tossed a blue striped racerback tank into a separate pile of articles to donate. Some pieces were too worn out, so I pitched them in the trash, but most were in good shape to give away to people who needed them.

I came across some old t-shirts and a pair of worn out, gray cargo pants from the past I never talked about. My parents really didn't retire to Arizona—that was the story I told everyone. In reality, my single mother left me and went to Texas with a man she met online. I didn't know my father.

The bottom seams of the pants were frayed and stained with dirt from the miles I walked, and from the nights I slept on the sidewalks. The odor of not having showered for days no longer lingered—that I was thankful for.

I held up one of the t-shirts and examined it, thinking about the good times and the bad I experienced when I was briefly homeless. One would think, how could anyone have a good time being homeless? and they would have validity in their inquiry. The good times came in the form of the staffers at the one women's shelter that took me in. I heard nightmares about the shelters, but my mother left me just as the weather broke into winter and I didn't last a day outside before I became desperate for any kind of roof over my head.

In those times, Rory was in school earning his degree in Dance. He tried to persuade me countless times to join him—that I could major in anything I wanted—but I always made up an excuse that I was busy pursuing other dreams. I hid the truth from him for as long as I could; I was working an overnight shift cleaning offices and the pay wasn't enough for a room, let alone Brooklyn rent. I didn't know about affordable housing and government assistance—no one taught me that stuff before I found myself in a situation that needed it.

It could have been avoided had I just admitted what happened and then applied for university—but I didn't because of the immense shame I felt of being abandoned and left for someone else. But now that I was on my feet, I was no longer ashamed. I wasn't even ashamed of the rock bottom part of my life because I learned from it. I learned not only how to survive by myself, but I learned enormous empathy and humility for those who struggled with that.

There was no use in keeping the clothes, so I tossed them into the trash bag. It felt freeing in a way, like getting rid of a negative energy from the past, and I was ready to move on.

~ ~ ~

"Ready to get out of here?" Jacob asked as he shut the Bentley's trunk. I double-checked my tote to ensure I had the random belongings I needed during the road trip: phone charger, sunglasses, wallet, and a water bottle. He stepped over to me and loaded the crutches into the back seat. Although I told him I was fine, he of course wanted to be on the safe side.