So now I was homeless, carless, and no doubt, soon to be jobless if I couldn’t figure out my living situation.
It all felt like too much. I didn’t know where to go, what to do.
I wandered back down to the street.
Shelters were out, since they did a lockdown at night. I’d volunteered at one back in high school in Ohio. It’d done wonders for my résumé. Though not my state of mind now. I was well aware of the trauma ahead of me.
Hunger.
Abuse.
Drug dependency when reality got to be too much.
I didn’t even know I was crying until the tears fell onto my arm.
Nothing to see here. Just a nineteen-year-old girl walking aimlessly around downtown Sac at 3AM. I tried to laugh, but it just came out as a sob.
What was I going to do?
I didn’t think life could get any harder. More painful. More fucking tragic.
Somehow my feet took me back to where I’d started tonight as I found myself walking up the alley toward Badass Builds and the paint shed I’d been decorating only an hour ago.
I half expected my art to already been painted over, but it wasn’t.
Somehow the painting I’d started was now complete.
The mountain of poor cats had been filled in with cats of different shapes and colors. The stream of piss coming from the fat cat arced high into the air before raining down on the mountain of poor cats and then pooling into a murky river streaming away to the side of the frame.
But it was the image of the fat cat on top that had me spellbound. I’d only given him a vague outline and a cliché monocle. But some unknown artist had put a Badass Builds leather jacket on him and morphed the monocle into a pair of dark sunglasses.
It was my vision but better.
The scent of wet paint hung heavily in the alley. And I knew if I reached out, I’d find the wall still wet and tacky.
“I didn’t think you’d come back.”
I jumped and spun around to find someone standing in the doorway of the shed just off the alley. Close but not within arm’s reach.
And yet, I took a few steps back and away from him.
He lifted his palms. “I’m not pissed. As I think you can see.” He nodded toward the mural. “I hope you don’t mind. I took a few liberties with your vision. But I kinda like how it came out.”
“Why?” My voice came out as a croak. But I couldn’t make sense of this. Why would he want to deface his own building with a painting of them being assholes? It didn’t make sense.
“I liked the message.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame. “But I’m more interested in what’s going on with you. What’s your story? And why did you come back?”
“I didn’t mean to.” I laughed and shook my head. “I mean, clearly I meant to do that, though my version wouldn’t have had so many details. I didn’t want to spend too much time since I didn’t want to get caught.”
His eyebrows arched, and I shook my head.
“Yeah, clearly it wasn’t the best of plans. Not that anything has gone to plan here lately.” I gave a pitiful laugh and scrubbed my face with my palms.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He tipped his head and gave me a long look. “You want to talk about it over a cup of coffee? I’m buying.”
My eyes widened. “What? No. I can’t—I don’t…”
“There’s an all-night diner around the corner. We can go sit. Talk. Or not talk. Maybe order some pancakes. I know I like to down some carbs when I’ve been up all night creating. What do you say?”
