MELODY (Rewritten #1)

Silver Lining

I hid in a bathroom stall, hoping to fall apart in privacy.

While I sat on a toilet seat, my breath heaving as the silent sobs shook my body and tightened my chest, I pondered the situation.

It was unfair. I knew that. But when'd life ever been fair to me? Why did I expect it to be fair now? I'd always been a castaway. A foundling at four. A foster child till eighteen. And a homeless person afterwards. It wasn't like I deserved said fairness or anything. I knew how much I'd screwed up. My one-time, biggest screw-up was an unforgivable mistake. A mistake even I couldn't live with.

Wait. Maybe I was the mistake. Maybe I wasn't supposed to exist. Was that why nothing had ever gone right for me? Why nobody wanted me? Because my existence was going against fate? But how come I'd survived all those years if I'd been such an inconvenience to everyone, including my phantom parents who didn't want my company?

The thought of my parents brought a lump to my throat, but I swallowed it down. They didn't want me. And I didn't need them. I could survive without them. End of story.

I guess a part of me was still waiting for a break in the clouds. A silver lining. A tiny, little hope that things would eventually get better. And I'd, somehow, atone for my mistakes and earn a normal life.

But right now, all I could see was blank. I was afraid to imagine a future that didn't exist.

A light knock on the door made me jump out of my reverie.

"Are you okay, chica?" A quiet voice murmured outside the bathroom stall.

I exhaled in relief and wiped my damp eyes, then I pushed myself up and unlocked the door. I stepped out to meet the concerned expression of Lisa, the cleaning lady in Valente's restaurant. A hard-working immigrant, who had half a dozen kids waiting for her to bring food on the table.

"I'm sorry, I overheard," she held her hands over her heart. "So I came to check on you."

Her round face had this look of pity that haunted me all my life, but at least she meant well. It was maternal compassion. I appreciated that.

"I'm okay," I croaked and forced a weak smile for her sake. I knew she was genuinely concerned. Lisa had always been nice to me. Even though she didn't really know me that well. I guessed it was some kind of an unwritten code that survivors stuck together. Or was it her motherly instinct?

Lisa touched my shoulder gently. "I can talk to Mr. Valente. Maybe when he..."

"No, Lisa, don't!" I interrupted, shaking my head rapidly. "Don't get yourself in trouble for me."

"But... I'll miss you." Her plump face fell. "I wish you could stay."

"I'll miss you, too."

I really would. She was one of the few people who made me want to cling to that thin thread of hope. She'd given me a dose of strength to hold on.

Her kind brown eyes glistened. "What are you going to do?"

I shrugged, biting my lip. "Umm, start looking for a job? I don't think I have another option."

Lisa's forehead puckered.

She knew how hard it was to find a job in New York City, with only a high school diploma and almost no skills to begin with. I'd been lucky I got hired here, but now it was all history.

The shelter, well, 'The Transitional Living Program', had given us four clear rules:

Find a job. Keep the job. Stay out of trouble. Don't break curfew.