Canvas

7| The Dream

Faye had been wrong about the possibility of warm food, Alice thought as she rushed through the thinning crowds of the afternoon streets. The people stepping out of the doors of small restaurants and automats were leaving empty-handed. Even the garbage cans in the alleyways were all but empty of food. Alice would have to skip dinner tonight, again.

“Happy birthday, old girl,” she sighed to herself.

In the dying light of the watery sun, she paused by a large painted window of a pharmacy and watched a couple of teenagers sipping thick frosted shakes through red straws. A cold wind bit through the fabric of her coat and she pulled it in close to herself. Why would anyone want ice cream on a day as cold as this? Even just thinking about it sent a shiver to her bones.

The soda jerk in the clean, white apron came and knocked his fist loudly on the window, shooing her away. She turned and took off, keeping her head down as sky fell entirely into night. She was already around the corner, heading into a stretch of blocks lined with apartment buildings, when she heard the tinkering bell of the door and the angry shouts of a low voice that reached out to her on the wind.

Alice was in a wealthy neighborhood. Every globed streetlight glowed brightly, throwing the line of cars that parked along the street into daylight. It was strange for her to see a street so bright when she had begun to grow used to the broken and flickering lights by the bank. The streetlights there were almost never lit. The streets were so dirty and poor that it was best to leave them in the dark; the night hid the grime better. 

On the block she walked were five towering apartment building. She studied the scrolling signs that denoted the different names of the buildings as she made her way down the street. They were all stately, strong, and very American. She could practically feel the stiff, starched, important people pressing down on her from stories above, giving her a sense of claustrophobia, but she didn’t feel like returning to Hooverville for the night. 

Whatever had Everett in a knot was sure to make the air in the bank thick and uncomfortable. His mood swings were unbearable, and she quickly learned it was best to stay away when he got like this. Instead of returning to the bank, she would take her chances on the streets and sleep on a fire escape like she used to before she found the others. She’d celebrate her birthday the way she had last year—alone.

Fire escapes and rooftops had been her bedroom for months before Hooverville. They gave her a sprawling view of the city, and on the nice days of fall and spring, the roofs were a sunny and warm place to wake up on. It was often too hot in the summer, and much too cold in the winter, on the roof, but the fire escapes were tolerable. If she was lucky, the building would block the worst of the piercing wind in winter, or the baking sun in summer. 

She preferred the high perch of a towering apartment over the damp, dark alleys and sleeping on the pavement. She had to choose her fire escapes carefully, though. Some people would call the cops if they saw her sleeping outside of their windows. But overtime, she had figured out the trick: the wealthy blocks of apartments were the safest places to sleep. No one opened their windows and rarely anyone pulled back their thick drapes. They had enough splendor in their homes to look at, so the bleak streets of D.C. held little allure.

Tonight, Alice picked a tall, brick apartment building with high arching windows. The fire escape was facing a small sweets store that appeared to only open during the day, so she didn’t have to worry about anyone spotting her from across the street. The roof, from where she stood, seemed to be flat and wide, but the dark clouds of the evening looked to be threatening rain. If the sky opened up in the middle of the night and soaked her coat with heavy rain, she would surely catch a cold, at best. At worst, it could kill her, soak her through the bone so thoroughly she’d never fully dry out.