How I Met Bethany, part two

The Drive Home

This experience began here.

So, I was driving this little stranger home because she had no place to stay. Not exactly the safest choice I have made in my life, but it turned out well, as you probably already know. We were in the car...

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked her. I knew women pretty well. They are talking creatures. They need to talk things out in order to make sense of them.

“I don’t know,” she answered hollowly. “I’m not sure how this all happened. I’m a mess.” She stared out the side window. “I came to college here because my dad lived in the state and I couldn’t stand to be with my mom anymore. But my dad’s wife got a job in D.C. and they moved away.”

When she paused, I said, “Did you live with him?”

She shook her head. “No. I really didn’t even know him that well. He left my mom when I was only three and visitation has been sporadic. He was here, so I could get in-state tuition; that’s why I came. I did eat dinner at his house every couple weeks.” She drew a shuddering breath.

“Why didn’t you ask him to help you when you couldn’t make rent?” I wanted to know. I said it gently because I did not want her to think I was advising her or judging her.

“I did,” she said. “The first two times. He told me to get a cheaper place or get roommates.”

“What about your mom?” I asked.

She shook her head. “She’s broke, too, but worse than that, she already told me that if I move near my dad I was his to deal with and she was out.”

“But if she knew you were in trouble…?” I was surprised that any parent would abandon their child to this kind of existence. Surely the woman didn’t know.

Bethany let out a sobbing breath. “She’d rescue me, but I’d spend my life paying for it,” she said. “I couldn’t do it. I just wanted to make it on my own.”

I needed to be gentle; I knew that, but I couldn’t let this opportunity pass without saying, “Bethany, Hon, I don’t think you can say you’re making it.” She began to cry into her hands again.

“I know,” she sobbed. “That’s just it. I’m not making it and I should just suck it up and let her come get me and drag me back to Iowa. But I can’t.” She looked up at me with sudden fire. “I promised myself when I moved out I would never move back home. I won’t do it! I don’t care if I do have to live on the streets.”

I shook my head. “You can’t live on the streets, Bethany. It’s not safe. And besides, in this state, the temperature drops pretty low and it snows in the winter. You have to have a roof over your head. Are you sure your landlord won’t give you and extension?”

Bethany shook her head. “He won’t. He says he practically already has it rented.”

“You have a job?” I asked. If the girl had a job, she might be able to get some kind of loan. I didn’t know much about loans, but it was certainly an option to look into.

The question brought fresh tears to her eyes. “No,” she whispered. She looked down at her hands on her lap and whispered again. “No ma’am.”

This was getting worse and worse. “What happened?” I asked, sensing by her sudden humility that she may have lost her job.

“I stole from the register,” she admitted in a whisper. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life.” More tears. “But if I didn’t have the money, I would lose my apartment.”

I was stunned. This girl, a criminal, was the person I had invited to stay in my house over night? It wasn’t that I had much of value there, but it did not take much to make a pawnshop give you a few dollars.

“They caught you?” I asked, grossly fascinated.

She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I couldn’t go through with it. Once I got to my car, I just felt sick and I hated myself. I took the money back inside and admitted to my boss what I had done. He was a really nice guy, but he had to fire me. I would have fired me.” I would have, too, I thought, but I was relieved she had returned the money. It spoke good things about her conscience.

I pulled into my apartment complex and parked in the garage. She carried her backpack, and I carried my computer, backpack, and purse, and led her up three flights of steps. I had a nice apartment. I had a roommate last year but when she moved out, I had decided to keep the place for my own. I was nearly thirty and wanted to live by myself. Living on the top floor ensured that I had vaulted ceilings and quiet. My kitchen was bigger than my mom’s, and she lived in a house. My bedroom, the master, was fully decked out in the bedroom furnishings my father had given me two years before. The spare bedroom only had a simple twin bed and a nightstand. I had purchased the bed for occasions when my brother or my best friend came to visit. They wouldn’t have to sleep on my couch.

I gave Bethany a brief tour of the house. She seemed fondly intrigued by the bookshelf in the living room, and the pictures of my family in the hall. I have a big family; lots of siblings who are married and having kids. I showed her the guest bathroom and set out some towels.

“I’m ordering pizza for dinner,” I told her. “You can shower in the meantime. I don’t have any clothes that will fit you, but…” I looked in the closet in the spare bedroom and retrieved a pair of my brother’s shorts and a t-shirt, left behind on a previous visit. “These might do until I get yours washed.”

She held the clothes to her chest, gave me a brief smile, and said, “Thanks.”

I'll finish this in the next post...