5. I’m homeless
FIVE
I’M HOMELESS
Lake
The sadist, his wife, and the guard at the door depart within an hour of arriving, leaving me with a broken nose and swollen eyes, terrified of what’ll happen to me and the family I left behind in Kentucky.
I’ve already lost my parents. I can’t lose my aunt and uncle, as well as my baby brother. And he can’t lose me either. After my parents died, I took care of my little brother, but I was living with my ex at the time, and his drinking made it difficult for my brother and me to thrive around him.
My uncle and aunt, though separated and going through their own problems, helped me get through college. When I left Landon, my ex, I went to my uncle, who provided my brother with a more stable home. My aunt is now the primary caregiver for my brother, since she lives in a nice neighborhood with a good school.
My family needs to stay safe.
I want to tear the paper résumé the sadist left me with. Instead, I drop it on the desk and lift the blinds. A carriage disappears down the street, and the view of the endless sea soothes me, helps me think. What will I say to Alessio when I see him again? I’m supposed to be on a flight to the US, never to revisit. Instead, I’m about to show up at his house and ask him for a job.
There are no guarantees that his sister will hire me, even if the sadist sounds optimistic. If Valerina doesn’t hire me as a governess for Alessio’s nephew (the son of his dead sister, the woman who got hit by a car and prompted Alessio to buy an island where he can prohibit cars), and I don’t deliver information about the man who executed over two dozen people, the sadist will kill my little brother.
But wait, there’s more!
Valerina is hiring for a nine-to-five governess position, but I have nowhere to live, which means that if she offers me a position, I’ll have to beg her to accept me as a live-in governess, which also means I’ll spy on my employer, the man who’ll put a roof over my head.
All this misfortune makes me think about luck. I’ve never been lucky. Like, never. The most recent example is last night, when I tried my luck with a hot, rich stranger I met at the bar. What happened? I ended up forced into a suicide mission.
My checkout time is one o’clock, and I’ve tried to extend it, but the next guest arrives earlier than expected, and they really need the room. Again, luck.
I stay in the room until housekeeping walks in. Shock registers on their faces when they see my beat-up one, but nobody asks what happened to me. I think they know what a beating looks like.
I step outside and shield my eyes from the sun. The humidity feels like seven hundred percent. People pass me on the sidewalk, while I stand there with my giant suitcase and my carry-on, along with my empty laptop bag that I’m struggling to keep on my shoulder. The sadist took all my electronics, including my phone. Just keep walking, right? Shit happens, right?
Yeah, okay, but I wish I were constipated.
The sadist gave me the location of Alessio’s house, so I walk in that direction. He said I should keep going until I get to a gated home with a fountain at the top of the driveway. Said I can’t miss it.
I’m dragging the suitcases while strategizing my pitch to Valerina when I remember that it’s the weekend. Nobody does hiring on the weekends, and my face looks terrible. Valerina won’t even let me through the gates. I look homeless, which is basically what I am now since the sadist confiscated my credit cards and my cash.
He left me with a paper résumé. He said I need to tell Valerina that I printed it at the hotel. Oh, and my Kentucky driver’s license. You know, for all the cars I’ll be driving on an island that’s banned motor vehicles!
Gah! I stomp onward.
After walking for a mile or more, I arrive at the tall, obsidian-iron gate. It’s wide open, and I wonder if I should walk in and talk to Valerina now, even though it’s the weekend, even though my face is swollen from when the sadist’s wife punched me, even though I don’t want to do any of this or be here at all.
I want to be sitting in my economy seat of a plane back to the US. I want to be anywhere besides here. But then I remember my little brother, his crooked milk teeth, and the way his nose scrunches up like a bunny’s when he pushes up his thick glasses. The image of him alive and breathing makes me walk across the street and to the beach.
There, I spend my weekend, plus the next three days, during which time my nose heals up somewhat well. I scavenge for food and water.
This Wednesday is the lowest point of my life.
For sure, it can’t get worse, can it?
(Spoiler alert! It can.)