Chapter Two
I trudged up the hill, wincing into the wind. The snow was blowing right into my face, my nose was running and my eyes were watering. I was wearing a pair of sweatpants underneath my jeans, three sweaters under my jacket, and two pairs of socks. The first thing I had learned since running away was the benefits of layers. Clothes piled on clothes was the only way to stay warm.
Night had fallen, but I didn’t feel scared. I could handle myself, plus this small Maine town was devoid of any sort of crime.
As I walked down the street I saw houses lit from within, soft yellow light bleeding out into the cold night air. Sometimes I could catch a glimpse of the people in the houses. Families sitting down to dinner, or gathered in front of the television looking warm and happy.
I turned off Main Street and down a small side street. If the quaint little town had a “bad” section, this would be it. But it was limited to this one small street. There were a crappy dive bar and a Chinese take-out joint and a few houses split into apartments.
I walked past the bar and the takeout joint and kept walking towards the empty building at the end of the alley. I had once been an office building, but it had been abandoned a long time ago.
Glancing behind me to make sure the way was clear I hopped over the fence and landed on the hard bare earth on the other side of the building. There was an old sign over the door, the decayed words reading, McPoyle, Reynolds, LLC. It had been a law firm, but the owners had skipped town a few years ago, leaving the building to ruin.
There was a loose window in the back and using my hands, I jimmied the window open and climbed through. I had discovered this place my first week in town. The window opened to a small office suite. There was a small room that had once been a reception area, a private bathroom and an office. The good news was this little suite was separate from the rest of the building, so I felt safe and secure once I locked the window behind me. I left the door to the rest of the building locked with a chair jammed underneath the doorknob as an extra precaution measure.
I had turned the office suite into a kind of home. Opening the door from reception I moved into the office, which was now my bedroom. There were candles everywhere. I lit one and then moved through and lit the rest illuminating the room in a soft yellow light.
There was a nest of blankets in the corner. These too I had pulled from a charity bin. I had a lot of them and they were actually quite comfortable. I had piled them on top of each other and into a makeshift bed.
The cold was the worst part. There was no electricity in the office, no heat, no power, no running water. I had worked out a sort of system. I had dragged a metal trash bin in from outside so I could use it to make a small fire. I put the fire near the window so when the window was cracked open most of the smoke was pulled outside.
I had grabbed some free newspapers on the way home and I crumpled them up and threw them in with the kindling, lighting a quick fire. I cracked open the window next to it as the flames consumed the kindling.
I couldn’t leave the fire going at night. I worried about breathing in too much smoke and dying on my pile of blankets. I would let the fire burn as long as it could to remove some of the cold from the office. When it was done there would be some burning embers, but mostly the blankets would keep me warm.
The fire caught quickly, a smoky smell filled the room. I walked to the bathroom where I kept a bucket of water. The electricity was off, but as long as I kept the tank full, I could use the toilet.
This was my life now. It wasn’t where I planned to be. I had gone to college at NYU and graduated with a 3.8 GPA. I wanted to be an elementary school teacher. I completed all the training and got the necessary certificates. Then my life fell apart. I had to run. I spent days on buses traveling across the country. I ran out of money in Williamstown, Maine.
I couldn’t get a job because to do that, I would have to give my social security number, date of birth and all of the other identifying information. I would be in the system. He would be able to find me. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to hide until I could figure something out.
This was what hiding looked like. Alone and cold, squatting in an abandoned office. The nights were the worst. During the day, I could walk through town or read in the bookstore, but at night, I had nowhere to be. I read until the fire was nothing more than a few hot coals at the bottom of the barrel. Once the smoke stopped, I closed the window and nestled into my blankets, praying I wouldn’t freeze to death during the night.
***
As I walked to work the next morning I saw the name Lev everywhere. I hadn’t noticed it before. The small park on the river was Lev park, given as a gift to the town by Nadezhda Lev in 1909. The library was a gift from Mikhail Lev in 1923.
The piece of paper with Anton Lev’s number was still sitting on the counter. I had placed the order for the books, but they wouldn’t arrive for another few days. The look he had given me the other day had me worried. Could he tell that something was off about me? Could he guess how I was living just from looking?
I was worried about constantly smelling like a fire so I made sure to shower at the YMCA every morning. I kept my clothes hanging from the shower curtain in my bathroom so they wouldn’t smell either. There was a Laundromat in town and I managed to get there once a week. I might currently be a squatter, but I had no intention of smelling like one.
It was twelve thirty when he came in. I was slowly sipping the last of my ramen, enjoying every last atom of it. He looked the same. Tall and handsome with his thick, but well-trimmed beard. He was wearing the same stylish overcoat, but a different scarf. I wondered how many scarves he had.
“Your books aren’t in yet,” I stammered as he approached the counter.
“I know,” he said. “I’m just browsing.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” I said again, aware that I said that to him the last time he had come in.
He nodded, but instead of heading up to the history section he lingered among the best sellers. He picked up the Stephen King and flipped through it absentmindedly before putting it back.
“How are you today, Kristen?” he called over. There was no one else in the store, just the two of us. I was surprised he had remembered my name.
“Fine, thank you,” I answered. He moved over to me, easily maneuvering past the piles of books. He leaned against my counter and looked at me. I tossed my empty ramen cup in the trash, praying I had nothing stuck in my teeth.
“Are you enjoying your stay in Williamstown?” He asked. His voice was smooth and even. And every time he opened his mouth he had my full attention.
“Yes,” I answered. Which was half-true. Other than the fact that I was living in squalor, I did quite like Williamstown. If I lived in an apartment somewhere I’m sure I would never want to leave.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but I wasn’t sure if I could take any more of his questions, so I cut him off.
“Are you related to the Lev family who donated the park and the library? I’ve been seeing that name everywhere since I met you.’
“Yes,” he answered with a nod. “The Lev family moved to this town in the early 1900s. We’ve been here ever since.”
“It’s a lovely town,” I said. He smelled fantastic and looked even better. I guessed he was in his late twenties, the beard made him look a little older. I wondered where he lived. Was it nice? Was it warm? Did it require a trash can fire?
“Maybe sometime I could show you around,” he said.
I sat back in my chair, stunned at the request.
“Ummm... that’s very nice of you. But I can’t do anything like that right now. I have a lot of...stuff going on.” What was I going to do, go straight from the shower at the Y to a date with this rich man? How would I explain to him that I was technically homeless and living in an abandoned office building? What would I say when it was time for me to run again?
His expression remained the same, he didn’t look hurt at my rejection. He just looked at me like he was trying to figure me out.
“Another time, then,” he said.