Lauren

Denver, Colorado 2004

 

 

“So, here we are yet again, Ms. McGuire. As much as I enjoy our weekly chats, I’m sure your teachers would prefer to see you in class every once in a while.” Mr. Santiago sat back in his desk chair, resting his arms behind his head. With his dark slicked back hair, he might’ve passed for attractive were it not for his obvious affinity for Budweiser.

I rolled my eyes. Mr. Santiago was the guidance counselor for Thomas Jefferson HS and probably the least intimidating person I’d ever met. If the school was hoping to scare me straight, they really should’ve reconsidered sending me here.

“Always a pleasure, Joshua,” I offered as I stared past him and focused on the motivational posters adorning the cinderblock wall behind him. It was like being inside a prison.

He shook his head in frustration. “It’s Mr. Santiago to you, Ms. McGuire. Are you just going to sit there and completely ignore the fact that you were caught slamming another student’s head into a gym locker?”

I pursed my lips as if I were debating it; earning me yet another glare from across the desk. “That doesn’t ring a bell. Get it? Ring a bell?”

He inhaled a sharp breath. “Lauren, I can’t protect you from the consequences of your actions any longer. The girl’s parents are considering pressing charges—at the very least, you’re going to be expelled. Can you give me anything, any reason that might convince the school to let you stay? You’re an excellent student, but your behavior makes you a liability.”

What could I say— that Becca Graves had caught on to the fact that I showered every morning in the girl’s locker room, so she and her posse of bitches decided to confront me over it?

Nope.

It would probably just make things worse for me. So, I turned my lips up into a smirk and replied icily, “I heard that she’s been talking about getting a nose job, so I saved her parents some money and took care of it myself.”

If I left now, I could be gone before they pressed charges.

The chair groaned loudly as he stood up. His belly bumped up against the side of the desk, sending papers flying, and I wondered how many times a day he knocked things over like this.

He finally made it around the desk and placed a light hand on my shoulder. “We tried calling your mother, but the number was disconnected. When we called the work number listed in our records, they said she hadn’t worked there in months. Can you tell me where we can find her?”

In a bar?

On a corner?

Take your pick, Joshua.

Instead, I repeated the lie I’d used countless times before. “My mother is out of state visiting her sister. No, I don’t know when she’ll be home. I don’t have a good phone number for her as she’s staying with several different relatives.”

While Mr. Santiago looked skeptical, he didn’t press for more details and released me to go back to class until the school could decide what to do with me.

I wasn’t waiting around for that and skipped out before the dust settled.

I made it back to the rundown duplex I called a home just as the sun drifted behind some clouds. It was probably going to rain. I found myself looking forward to it. I could pop open the window and let the cooler temperatures act as free air conditioning.

It was only April, and already it was unseasonably warm. I’d been prepared for a spring blizzard, not blistering heat. The girls at school had taken the weather as an opportunity to show off as much skin as possible, while still following dress code.

Then there was me, dressed in winter gear, regardless of the season. I’d tried cutting the sleeves off of a pale lavender sweater, but the whole thing unraveled in the process. From then on, I’d stuck with rolling the sleeves up.

There was a note taped to the door, the edges flapping wildly in the breeze. I pulled it free and despite the heat, my blood turned to ice in my veins.

EVICTION NOTICE!

Ms. Monica McGuire,

You are hereby being notified to vacate the premises named above due to non-payment. You are required to vacate on or before May 1st, 2004, being ten days from the issuance of this notice. Failure to vacate will result in civil proceedings against you for unlawful detainer.

Thank you for your prompt attention to this urgent matter,

Oaklawn Duplex Management

Ten days.

I had ten days until I was homeless.

I had no job. No license. No birth certificate. Monica wasn’t really the type of mother to cut the crusts off your sandwiches after staying up late to scrapbook your latest achievements. When I was fifteen, I’d wanted to take driver’s ed and had approached her for my birth certificate and social security card. She’d looked at me as if I’d grown two heads before going back to staring blankly at the television screen.

That was two years ago and I was still no closer to finding my birth documents. Other kids my age were applying to colleges and preparing to take the SAT, while I was going nowhere. It didn’t help that this was the longest Monica had been gone either. She’d taken off in February, promising that she had a job lined up that was gonna get us back on our feet. I’d given her my last twenty dollars so she could take a cab.

Stupidly, I’d believed her…for a week or two. Then I knew that she’d fallen back into one of her three vices: men, booze, or meth. Once the realization hit, I’d been forced to resort to stealing again just to stay alive.

I never took more than I needed—a couple of dollars from several unlocked gym lockers would hold me over for a couple of days. It was also unlikely that someone would miss it enough to start searching for a thief.

I’d learned early on how to stretch my money and make it last. Dollar Tree carried everything from body wash to canned soup. I even managed to save enough to buy a couple of plates and cups, just in case I ever had company. I never did, but it was nice to know that I was prepared if the opportunity ever presented itself.

Now, it might’ve all been for nothing. I’d been able to survive with no water or electricity, but out on the streets, I’d never make it.

At least the management office would find that, while I couldn’t pay the rent, I’d at least kept the place nice and tidy.

I couldn’t worry about that now. I’d worry about it later.

I tugged my arms out of the sleeves of my sweater and chucked it across the back of the metal springs posing as a couch and sat down to do my homework by flashlight. I just needed another month; another month to graduate and then figure out what the hell to do next.

I had almost all of it completed by the time the sky began to rumble and fat drops of rain fell angrily against the window. I stood up and stretched my back before opening a can of chicken noodle soup. It wouldn’t fill me up, but it would get rid of the hunger pangs that caused my stomach to cramp up.

I sipped the cold soup slowly, trying to trick my brain into thinking I was eating a much larger meal. I’d done it as long as I could remember. There were a couple of times when I was younger where CPS had put me in foster care. I remember both families being astonished by how much I could eat.

Inevitably, Monica would get her shit together just long enough to be granted custody again and I would miss the way my stomach had felt so full that I thought it might burst.

I finished my soup and slipped out of my jeans before lying down on the couch, trying to align my body on the parts of the couch that still held cushion. I was exhausted from both the lack of food and the fight from this morning.

I closed my eyes, still hearing Becca’s taunts.

“What’s the matter, White Trash? Don’t they have showers in the trailer park?”

She’d yanked my damp hair and continued when I’d remained silent, “I’d just bet that with hair that red, your mom fucked a leprechaun. That true, White Trash? You got a pot of gold we should know about?”

I didn’t know what was different about today, but for whatever reason, I just didn’t feel like taking the abuse anymore. I waited for her to pause long enough to take a breath and then I grabbed her by the throat and walked her backward toward the lockers, nothing but adrenaline coursing through my body. Her posse’s laughter ended, but not one of them made a move to help their leader.

No, they’d all run screaming from the locker room as Becca’s head connected against the metal with a dull thud. I could still hear the sound in my head.

The storm died down outside and I realized that I could still hear the low thud. A floorboard creaked in the back bedroom and I knew that I hadn’t imagined it. Someone was in the duplex with me.

My eyes flew open, but I remained frozen on the couch. If they were looking for anything valuable, they’d realize soon enough that they’d picked the wrong unit.

The footsteps grew louder, as if the intruder was making no attempt to hide his or her presence. I briefly tried to remember if I’d left the bedroom window open, for all the good it did me at this point.

Maybe they’d find whatever it was they seemed to be looking for and leave. There was movement in the small den and I realized belatedly that there was more than one person inside with me.

I willed my body to remain still, hoping that they might not see me in the dark.

“See, what’d I tell ya? Home alone.” I recognized the man’s voice as the neighbor two doors down. The smell of cigarette smoke only confirmed his identity.

Just as I realized their true intentions and decided to run, hands were on me, pinning me back down to the couch.

“She’s feisty, I’ll give her that. Shhhh…calm down, girly. We just wanna have some fun with ya.” The other man spoke softly in my ear, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

I raked my fingernails down the side of his face in response and began kicking wildly. My neighbor’s hand came down across my cheekbone, stunning me.

That was when I began screaming.

The second man’s hand covered my mouth and my neighbor rocked back on his heels, laughing. “Scream all you want. No one’s gonna come running in here to save you.”

I bit down on his accomplice’s hand and tried to run for the door, but my neighbor caught me, pushing me face first into the dirty carpet. He held something sharp against my throat briefly before using it to cut through my sweater and bra.

He flipped me over onto my back and I saw the lust in both of their eyes. I knew what they were planning to do to me—I also knew they weren’t going to let me go after.

I raced through my available options. Even if I made it outside, my chances weren’t much better. I didn’t exactly live on Sesame Street.

There was a loud knock at the door and the second man crept over to look through the peephole, while my neighbor held the knife against my throat again.

“Don’t even think about screaming,” he hissed.

That was it. I knew I could either die after being raped and tortured or I could get it over with immediately. I inhaled and screamed loudly. My neighbor must’ve been expecting me to remain quiet because in his shock, he dropped the knife and I rolled away from him.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. The door imploded, with shards of wood going everywhere, and I dove behind the sofa for cover. I had no idea if the person at the door was my savior or just another junkie with a penchant for teenage girls.

“Lauren!” The voice called out and I froze. It was Mr. Santiago.

Why the hell was he here?

I slowly poked my head over the sofa, using the worn fabric to cover my exposed parts. His shoulders relaxed once he saw me. The room was empty with the storm raging outside and lightning illuminated our faces every few seconds. My attackers must’ve booked it once he kicked in the door.  “Hey there, Mr. Santiago. Didn’t know you made house calls.”

He surveyed the small room before his eyes came back to mine. “Jesus, Mija. You’ve been living here?”

I nodded and he gestured toward me. “Why are you behind the sofa? Come out.”

I nodded again, this time a little more shakily, as I began to realize what I’d just escaped. “Um, I don’t have anything…” I trailed off, hoping he’d catch my meaning.

His eyes widened and then immediately narrowed in anger. “Did they rape you?”

I shook my head and responded, “No, you uh—you got here just in time, Mr. Santiago.”

He found a blanket lying near the couch and tossed it over to me. “Joshua, Lauren. Call me Joshua. We’re beyond formalities at this point.”

I wrapped the blanket around me and headed toward the small bedroom near the back of duplex to find something to wear. Joshua stood silently outside the door, waiting for me to change, before instructing me to grab anything I needed.

The night air was warm and slightly sticky from the recent storm, yet I shivered uncontrollably in the passenger seat of his Ford Taurus. I pulled the blanket from the floorboard and wrapped it around my shoulders as we pulled into a fast food parking lot. The smell of greasy, fried food wafted in through the vents and my stomach grumbled painfully.

Joshua didn’t ask questions; he just pulled through the drive-through and ordered three separate meals and watched me devour two of them like an animal.

I ate until my stomach felt as if it would explode before making eye contact with him again. His lips were pursed together as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. “How long has it been like this, Lauren?”

I swallowed a sip of Dr. Pepper before answering, “It’s always been like this. Monica’s a little neglectful, I guess.”

His eyes almost bugged out of his head. “A little neglectful? Mija, you were living in miseria absoluta and you call that a little neglectful? Jesus—what if I hadn’t shown up, huh? Those men—they would’ve raped you…or worse. Ay Dios mío!”

He was so worked up that he kept switching between the two languages, while I struggled to follow along. I closed my eyes and leaned against the window as he continued his tirade. Apparently, he’d shown up to visit with my mom about my behavior. He hadn’t been able to reach her by phone and didn’t trust me to give her the letter the school sent home.

I cracked one eye open and looked over when he paused to take a breath. “Can you take me back home now?”

He put the car in reverse. “No, I’m not taking you back to that hellhole. You’ve been going without electricity or running water—that’s unacceptable. No, you’re coming home with me until we figure out something else. I’ll keep you safe, Mija—you have my word.”

I was too exhausted to argue, so I settled for a small nod and went back to staring out the passenger window. It wouldn’t last. Monica would get her shit together long enough to get me back and I’d be right back where I started.

It didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted though.