ESCAPE
Chapter Twenty
Their night was spent at a friendly little
poor house in desperate need of sponsoring. The walls were peeling and creaked
mercilessly. The cots were no thicker than a folded sheet of paper, yet it felt
warm and safe. The couple who kept it running didn’t have much money themselves
but, as they told Rose, "If you have a little, share it with a friend, and
you’ll have plenty more."
Morning came with stifling hot temperatures.
Rose dressed herself, Jayvelin, and Jacob in their best clothes. She brushed
and buffed without showing any mercy. Finally, she tentatively peered at her
family in the only mirror that the couple owned.
The material that Jacob’s outfit was made of
wasn’t very good, and he scratched at it and pouted. Other than that, he was
still the same Jacob that Rose had always known.
Jayvelin’s dress looked a bit too small for
the growing child. Her face, though cheerful, was thin and pale, so Rose had
brushed her hair until it absolutely shone. With hair like that, no one could
even begin to comprehend that she was anything short of perfect.
Then, she convinced herself to look at her
own reflection. Her chin and nose showed her stubbornness and her eyes reflected
the pride she felt. She was thin, yet her curves had stayed. Her hair hung in
gleaming strands that would turn any head. She smiled, delighted that she
didn’t look as frightful as she had anticipated. Her biggest relief was that
the horrid yellow dye had washed out of the front strands of hair she had
purposefully let peek out of her scarf so no one might mistake her for her
cherry-haired self.
*****
She stood in the street, purse over her
shoulder and both children walking beside her, surveying the battered newspaper
that Alice had shown her so long ago.
It didn’t take long for her to get directions
to the neighborhood, and hardly any more time to walk along the pleasant paths
there.
As she’d suspected, blocking the premises was
a strong metal gate. The gate was between her and Jack.
"Can I help you, miss?" the
watchman asked her.
"Uh…yes. I’m a friend of Mr. Dawson’s.
Would it be possible for me to see him?"
"I’d have to check with him first. Your
name?"
"I-I’m...never mind." She clutched
her children’s hands and rapidly walked away, ignoring the watchman as he
shouted at her in confusion. Without breaking her pace, she made it back to the
poorhouse they had spent the night at. The owners were out, and she leaned
against the cool wall.
I caught a glimpse of those houses.
They’re all absolutely gorgeous. How can I go back? I haven’t made each day
count. I’ve made a mess of myself and my family. I can’t go back now. I have to
wait. Yes. That’s it. I’ll get a job, and when I can stand on my own two feet
I’ll go home. Home to Jack.