The Shore

Finally, I reached McDonald's. Staggering through the door, my head hung low, soaking wet once again. Approaching the counter, the cashier looked at me as if I was going to eat and run.

"Cheeseburger happy meal with a coke please," I said and tossed the five on the counter. 

The cashier took my crumpled up five dollar bill and rang the meal through. I received a big fourteen cents in change. On a tray the cashier placed my food. Sitting down by the window, I quickly inhaled the food. Sipping my coke I began to fade.  Exhaustion came on so strong, not even my thumping arm could keep it at bay. My head dropped to the table.

Black...that's all I knew for I don't know how long.

"Mam?"

Someone was shaking my shoulder.

"Ma'am, we're closing soon.  I'm sorry, but I must ask you to leave."

Groggily, I opened my eyes and looked up at the Mcdonald's employee blinking several times.

"Ok, I'm out." I got to my feet, picked up my bag and walked out the door.

Shivering I looked left and right. I didn't know where to turn or what to do. A bus stop on the corner with a bench is where I decided to sit to try and figure out what to do. I didn't know what happened to Mrs. D and the kids. I didn't know if they were okay or if Mr. D was in jail where he belonged. There was no way I could remain there on the scene. The police would want to know who I am and seeing that I am still a bit under age, they would call social services and they would take me back to my grandmother who would ultimately send me back to them. I couldn't have that. Nor could I have what's been. 

So my grandmother was out of the question. I couldn't call her. There was certainly no calling any other of my relatives. They all knew what had happened and didn't lift a finger to help. There will be no calling any of them.

One of the few friends I did have tried to put me on the street. No calling her either.

I hadn't heard or seen from S and M for over a year and both of their phone numbers were out of service.

Despair welled up within me. I began to feel frantic not knowing which way to turn. Tears of frustration, sadness and fear rolled down my face in torrents.

Wait a minute...I do remember one phone number I could possibly call.  A very slim chance...a small tiny glimmer of hope.

My new friend P.  My air hockey playing, Bumpers patron, funny friend. I was ninety percent sure I could remember his number. Walking back to the phone booth, I repeated the number in my head. Reaching the phone booth, I dug my hand into my pocket then pulled out two dimes and four pennies. I took a dime and placed it in the slot. Getting a dial tone, I dialed the number.

"Hello?" A woman's voice asked.

"May I speak to P please?"

"I'm sorry, no one here by that name," she replied.

"Oh ah...ok thanks, sorry," then I hung up the phone.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" I exclaimed aloud. "What the hell! I thought for sure that was his number!"

I looked at the change remaining. Fourteen cents. Only enough for one more call. I wracked my brain trying figure out what the number was. Then it occurred to me. I might have transposed the number, but which numbers? I tried turning the last two numbers around. It occurred to me, as I rolled the number around my head, it could be the right twist. It could be the answer but, I didn't know for sure.

I had to try.

I put in my last dime and dialed the number. It rang and rang. 

Finally,

"Hello..."