I Dont Do Too Well On My Own

The First Chapter

I moved to Chicago as soon as I could. I was... 18. I was young and desperate to leave my parents house. I wasnt "young and stupid", I knew for a while I would leave.

Its not like Ive had a bad childhood. I had a great one. Lots of freedom and unlimited resources.

It would probably surprise you that I dont have a crazy good job or a hot husband and a kid right now. It seems like everyone raised like me is five steps ahead. It may surprise you that I dont have lots of money, that I dont live in a high rise flat.

It may surprise you that I escaped and left without a trace.

It escapes my mind every now and then, that Im still being searched for, almost 4 years later. Rich parents never stop looking. I left without a trace, as if I never existed. And, really, I didnt exist. Not in my current state.

I left and restarted my life. I changed how I looked. Im strategic.

Instead of the long brown plait swinging down my back I now have shoulder length green hair and a fringe. Instead of my flowery pink summer dress, I am adorned in black skinny jeans and a crop top. Instead of a clean baby face, I now have a piercing, right on my lip.

I told you I am strategic.

If my parents saw me now, other than being majorly pissed off, they wouldnt recognise me.

Instead of Jessica, Im now Jesse. Im reformed.

So, now, the present. Im hiding out in a cruddy flat in Chicago. Im working for a crappy boss at a small restaurant. I have no friend outside of work. My life is escaping, going from work to home to work to... You cant call it home. Its great, really.

I dont mind, Im still out of my old home. Its a bit lonely. Ive got a heart made from rubber because stone breaks too easily.

Dont I sound cheerful.

So, back to the actual present. Im standing, leaning on one leg, and waiting for the couple in front of me to decide on what to order. Reminds me of the time that I spilt a meal on a couple. That was a while ago...

"So, she will have the chicken, and... Ill have the beef." A peppered man in his 40s tells me.

His wife smiles at me, bright white like acrylic nails, and I write down their order, leaving them to themselves.

"Slow today. Barely anyone here." Jasmine leans against the front desk as I stop in front of her.

"Youre telling me." I chuckle sourly.

Jasmine, if I were to cut corners, could be described like a princess. She has the smoothest dark skin and a long chunky black plait, always hanging to the left or down her back. I only want to be like her, really. Shes the kind of girl that would get a navel piercing. We really do look like an oddly matched friendship.

"That couple come here every week. Id have thought that theyd found somewhere better than this by now." She says.

I look around the restaurant. Its not exactly... Classy. The red paint is peeling off the walls in the corners and the carpet is fading and frayed. Im not too sure how this place is still standing.

"But this is the best that it gets. This is Americas finest!" I say sarcastically, referencing to a sign on the door.

She laughs and its a beautiful laugh.

"I havent seen Josh in here for a while, where is he?" I ask.

"He went away for a while. He didnt say much..."

Theres a silence and I can hear her scraping one fake nail across another.

She chuckles, leaning over. "Loser is going to miss tonight."

I turn back to look at her. "Whats happening tonight?"

She puts her slender finger to her lip and collects some plates of food, leaving me at the corner.