And because of that, I came to New York, the city of lights; well that's what I'd heard. I never even knew what New York City was. I lived in a bubble full of darkness, and that darkness was my home until I was finally able to leave.
It wasn’t easy getting here by hitchhiking. Sometimes I would walk then sleep on a park bench then walk some more. But the day I finally got here, I regretted it.
There were too many people, too many eyes looking at me. And wherever I looked there would be men, so I would look the other way only to see more men. I had nowhere to look but down at my old beat up trainers; one of which had a big hole on the top of it, but I didn’t care, the only thing I cared about at the time was getting out of New York.
I had no money, nowhere to go. I walked around Central Park just because there were fewer people around. I found a small tunnel and spent my nights there, until a woman approached me, said that I looked lost and she could help. She told me about this place where I could make a little money if I cleaned a room. She gave me the address, and I left. The moment I stood outside I knew what it was before I even walked in.
A pimp’s house.
I stood outside of there for a long time. It was the last place I wanted to be, but I needed the money so I walked in thinking that I could do this. The moment I stepped through the door I knew something was going to happen; I knew that something was wrong, but I also knew that there was nothing I could do now. The pimp stood in front of me and from the way he looked at me, the way his eyes moved over my body, I knew I was in deep trouble.
I could feel his fingers around my neck as he pushed me onto the bed and held me down. I had learned long before then that there is no point fighting. I had lost the power to fight a long time ago andthatnight was no different for me.
When he was finished with me, he threw some money at me and said he never wanted to see me again. He told me that if I were to come back into the house he would just rape me again, so I took the money and left. I spent a few weeks on the street before I had enough money to find somewhere to live. There were times I thought it would never happen, but walking around the park at night, I often found money. One night I found close to a hundred dollars. Sometimes kind people would give me money when they walked past me. Every penny helped me, and from there I started looking for a job.
My illness got worse living on the street, but I had no choice. I had to live with it until I got more money and if I died, I was okay with that too. I didn't have anything to lose.
Death didn’t scare me.
Death might even have saved me.
* * *
I know the cracks on the footpath better than I know the buildings on the way to work. I know where each crack is before I even see it. It takes me forty-five minutes to walk, and one day in that time I made ten bucks picking up quarters off the path that people dropped, that was a good day for me as I got myself a cheap jacket from the thrift store.
The weather’s getting cold now, it’s only a matter of time until the first snow falls. It’s the worst time of the year for me as I have to walk to work in the snow and it sucks.
I arrive at work and hang up my coat as Joe, the manager shouts, “The fucking tables aren’t going to clean themselves, Hope.”
“Sorry,” I reply quietly and put on my apron. Picking up my tub I walk out to the front of the restaurant and start cleaning up the tables. I work the morning and evening shifts; it’s the only way I can afford to stay where I am. All I do is pick up the empty plates and glasses ready for the other staff to set it up for the next customer. It might not be the best job in the world, but for me it’s perfect. I don’t have to talk to anyone. I don’t have to look at anyone. I clean, take the dirty stuff to the kitchen and repeat.
This is a nice restaurant. It’s a traditional American style diner that serves different burgers and fries, oh and pancakes in the morning. I have no idea what the food tastes like as I could never afford anything in this place. The other thing I can’t ever understand is how this place is so busy. Yes, it’s in all the papers, five stars across the city, but Joe, if he’s not happy with you, he’ll shout at you in front of any customer in here. He doesn’t care, but surely that must be bad for business? I try my best to stay on his good side; I mean there’s no way I would even want to get onhalfof his bad side. I looked at his face once, when he gave me this job. He has a hard expression, maybe he never smiles, but I’ve never looked at him again. I know the rules.
Walking over to the first table, again I know the tiles to the restaurant better than I know the décor. I can tell you that it’s very bright in here, the glow of the blue and red lights fill the whole room and the sixties vibe music echoes in my ears.
I kneel to pick up some of the paper napkins on the floor and brush my black hair out of my face. My hair comes down to my waist now, and I always hear people around me saying that my hair is beautiful and shiny. Then there are times I hear customers talking about how I look funny and this restaurant isn't a place someone like me should be working. At first, I thought it was just people being rude, but then one of the other staff members said it’s because I keep to myself, my head down and so my attitude seems rude, even though I had never spoken to them.
I overheard one customer speaking to Joe about me and he simply told them that I do my job, make no trouble, and I don't say anything to anyone. He told them there was nothing wrong with me. It was the first time someone had stuck up for me, someone fought for me, and that day I was happy to work any hours he wanted me to.
One of the staff, Dan, walks past me. “Hope, when you’re finished, table six is done,” he says as he goes behind the bar. I give him a nod and walk over to table six. I place the tub on the table as I begin to clean up.
I feel eyes on me and bring my arm up as the hairs stand to attention. I pause and stand up straight. My heart starts pumping faster in my chest as the cold chill works its way through my body. I want to look around. I want to see if I can see him, but I’m scared. If I lock eyes withhimagain, I know my life is over.
As quick as they stood up the hairs go down again, and I stop feeling the eyes on me. Taking in a deep breath, I continue with my table, as I mutter to myself, "There is hope, where there is no vision there is hope.”The only words I need to know that I’m safe and I can stay safe.
* * *
It’s one in the morning when my shift finishes, and then I’m back here at eight for the breakfast shift. I grab my coat and make my way home. I look straight ahead knowing at this time of night no one will be around. It took me a few months to finally be able to walk home like this, scared that I would do something wrong, but tonight I look up at the night sky as a chill creeps into the air. It’s not the bite of the blustery winter yet, but nippy enough to let me know that the season is about to change. The trees don’t have the beautiful colors anymore; they surround me, naked with only a few leaves left on them, the sidewalks are grey. Wrapping my coat tighter around me I watch as a leaf tumbles from the branch, spinning and rocking as it falls to the ground.
Pulling my hood up on my coat, I look down and quickly walk past a group of men standing outside the nearby bar. I hear one of them trying to talk to me, but I ignore him and continue to walk. Men are the evil in this world; men with money are the most evil, they think they can treat a person horribly like they mean nothing.
Eventually, I walk into my apartment building. I live on the top floor which you would think would be the most expensive, but it's the cheapest in the building. Why? You have to take the stairs for a start all five hundred of them; then there is the fact that this place is a dump, that the windows are broken, and in the winter it's freezing. Although, like I said before, the cold is what I'm used to, so for me this place is fine.
Throwing my coat on the floor, I lie down to sleep, as I have to be up early to make my way back to work. "There is hope, where there is no vision there is hope," I repeat to myself as I slowly fall asleep.
CHAPTER2
LEO