What Dreams May Come, Noreen Malarkey [free ebook novel .txt] 📗

I once wrote my life story on the back of a napkin, shortest biography ever written. It would never make the best sellers list as it read most like a list of cheap one liner jokes that usually get a Comic booed off stage at some sleazy night club. That being said,it was important to me. Ketchup smeared and grease stained,it would be my living legacy and ride shotgun with me for the rest of my days,that was my greasy spoon diner promise.

It never ceases to amaze me,those revelations that come to you as you sit alone in a Truck stop while waiting for your meal to come. Feeling lost and sorrow-ridden,drowning your thoughts in the bottom of Java sludge filled mug,so thick you could cut it with a knife,coffee drunk in a moment of caffeine induced clarity,those thoughts that trip into your mind about the wonders of your world. I figured that somewhere in the darkest recess of everyone's subconscious,lurks the forever dreaded "What if" catch clause of life. Whether,it seems,you are really aware of it or not. Haunting every waking moment,of each and every passing day. From the absurd,"What if I had not taken Highway 16,would I be sitting in this Restaurant now,or lost in the back forty somewhere?" to the more profound "What if I had finished school,where would I be now?" or "What if I had said I'm sorry?".

Perhaps,on some levels,maybe it is best that the "What if?" clause of the more profound be best left alone. As my Grandmother always used to say,"Don't live in the past dear,it never does anyone any good,regrets are the reward for the foolish". Yet,here I was,17 and a half years old,homeless,alone and outcast,there is something to be said for realising when you have come to a point in your life when nobody would miss you if you dropped off the face of the planet. Where you have let everyone down so often that they wipe their hands clean of you,they give up and walk away. It does not mean they love you any less,you hope,but the fact is,they don't have the heart for it anymore. Their 'emotional investment' of love and trust has been trampled one too many times. I suppose I deserve what life has dished out for me.

"Miss? Are you okay Miss?" A stout waitress with a pleasant smile etched across her well-seasoned face asked,she had a look of concern in her eyes as she proceeded to slip my meal in front of me.

"Huh? Oh, I'm - I'm fine,thanks" I had managed a weak reassuring smile and gave a small nod of appreciation. I had been feeling sorry for myself so much so lately that I felt like a ghost that walked amongst the people in quiet observation,that it always takes me back to reality with a subtle startle that I could still be seen,that though feeling alone did not constitute that I indeed was.

"Alright Miss?"

"Elizabeth,but everyone just calls me Lizzie."

"Miss Lizzie. If you need anything hun,just give me a holler okay?"

"Sure. Thanks." I stole a quick glance at the torn faded name patch on the threadbare orange and blue uniform "Holly,I will." The waitress gave an unspoken understanding of my wishing to be left alone,but with no cruelty intended and moved on to pouring coffees for the other patrons.

I tore into my food half heartedly,hungry but conflicted and in a turmoil of thoughts. At the current moment I was feeding my guilt,this would be my last meal for awhile, paid for with the last of the money I had stolen from my parents. Parents, though normally forgiving,I had finally really let them down. No matter how many times they asked me what was wrong,promised they would not be mad and said they would help and love me no matter what. It is like somehow I always needed to test the borders of their promises,I do not know why,but maybe on some level I did. Never happy at school,hated my teachers and was failing like it was a new trend. No friends to speak of,but many an enemy for having never done anything really,but keep to myself,a recluse in my own imagined world. On more than one occasion I had kids threatening to beat me,or kill me if I so much as looked at them sideways. Drugs and alcohol became my comfort zone,blurring the boundaries of my reality,stooping low enough to steal to cater to my bad habits never seemed to faze me anymore. My family was poor,I had no right stealing. We lived on the wrong side of the tracks and the worst neighbourhood possible,my Mom and Dad next to never home,working double shifts to try and scrape enough dough together to help our family escape our impoverished reality.

I used to be a "good kid",but two summers ago when my twin brother Kyle was killed in a drive by shooting, well I guess I have been spiralling ever since. I guess that really was it,the turning point, I never felt so alone. My parents were not home at the time,I had to chase my younger siblings inside,screaming at them to call 911,I had returned to Kyle,trying in vain to help,cradling him in my arms,weeping pitifully as he passed away. The shooter was never caught,the cops say it was random,unmotivated by reason,he was just in the wrong place in the wrong time. Most likely an unwilling participant in a gang member's initiation.

My parents were beside themselves,the little ones were confused and I was alone. Not able to afford therapy,us kids had to go to school counsellors. I was the only one of us kids that was in junior high school,I thought Mr. Tyson was a great counsellor at first,he really seemed to listen to my problems,but then he started to try and feel me up. I would have nothing of it,I told him I would tell on him,but by this point I had such a bad track record as a rebel that he said nobody would believe me.He was right. I told everyone I could,nobody believed me,I was accused of lying,suspended from school and even my own Mom and Dad were not sure what to make of it. They wanted to believe me(I could see it in their eyes),to come to my help,but I had taken to lying so often,that they were no longer sure when I was telling the truth,even though my usual lies were petty things,not something like this.

By the following morning,I was gone,packed some meagre possessions,stole some money,left a note goodbye and was gone. A small backpack with some clothes,food,money and a couple of family pictures,this would be my lifeline. If the saying is true,about how the biggest journey begins with a single step, then I think I took it right out of the home of my childhood and out into the dead of night.

The life of a hobo is a long and lonely journey,time loses it's perspective in the grand scheme of things. No longer answerable to any authority,no demands on being a slave to the commands of a dismissal bell,I felt a sense of freedom, but a freedom at what cost?

I had hitch hiked my way out west,no particular destination in mind,just wandering aimlessly. Sometimes I walked for miles with no aid,other times I made great distance with the kindness of a stranger. I am amazed at times by the human spirit and how it can be moved to help a complete stranger,a kindness I usually abused when I felt like it and now I felt the regret,should have known better. I am in continuous awe of how people seem to have an unspoken oath with the universe,a 'don't ask,don't tell' policy,they never really ask me any questions,just talk about where I was headed and what the weather was like.

I slept in ditches usually,close enough to the highway that I would not get disorientated and far enough away from the forests that I was less likely to be eaten by a pack of coyotes. I ate only once a day. I tried to save as much as I could. on occasion,without asking,people would give me money or food taking pity on the poor runaway youth. Twice I ended up hiding in warehouses to avoid cops that had become suspicious of the young stranger that was trekking through their peaceful little towns.

Lost in thought I stared off into the distance and was snapped back to reality when a gruff,cruel sounding voice boomed just ahead of me. I blinked hard and refocused my awareness "I'm - I'm sorry,were you talking to me?"

"Are you deaf or something? I asked you if you thought I was hot or something. You keep starring at me,not that I'm complaining". A dirty,scruffy,old man wearing oil stained overalls and a plaid shirt,faced me from a table just ahead,said as he grunted his approval. Leaning back in his seat,he looked me over as though he were undressing me with his eyes and fantasizing as to what he would like to do to me should he find me alone somewhere. He ran a large hand through his dirty,matted,dishevelled,gray hair and tousled it a bit. I didn't dare wonder about what his other hand was it was nowhere to be seen on the table. His unwatched meal attracting vagrant Flies that had probably followed him in here in the first place,his pets of sorts.

"No,I'm sorry,I was just lost in thought." I said and hastily looked back at my food and resumed eating my semi neglected meal with relish in the distraction. I shuddered,who did this man think he was,God's gift to women? More like a creepy pedophile with an agenda.

"You're loss." he harrumphed "fucking tease." he roared in laughter at his own comment and went back to gnawing on his Fly riddled steak.

I scarffed through my meal as fast as humanly possible,I could still feel the man's stare,it was unnerving. He never said anything further at least so I could eat my meal in relative silence. I must have been quite the sight as the waitress,Holly,checked on me a couple of times,once to tell me not to rush - that I might choke and again later when she asked me if the meal was okay,when I knew she was really just fishing for to the "why rushing?" answer.
Suddenly a clean cut man clad in a black hoodie,jeans and sneakers,with slicked jet black hair and wearing Ray-Ban shades, had walked up and sat down in front of me at my table,right as I was chewing on the last bite. I had damn near choked,my eyes large in surprise,what the hell was it with the men at this truck stop? This one sure had some set of balls on him being so brazen to just sit down and not even ask if he could.

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat,"Um excuse me, but can I help you?"

He gave a sly smile and tilted his head thoughtfully to the side,"I was thinking that perhaps I could help you,my dear."

"By that you mean what,exactly?" I pretended I had no suspicions as to his answer as I dabbed a napkin at my mouth.

He nodded towards my back pack I had on the table,leaning