I’m afraid to get kicked out, but...
Imogene: Lesha, I have a question. Could you help me?
Lesha: Sure thing, Jelly Bean.
I love Lesha. If she were nearby, I’d say we were friends, but Father says friends are people who live near you, care about you, and want to be with you. Family can’t be friends because they’re stuck with you.
Imogene: If someone were only allowed to go to online courses, never allowed to leave the house, or make friends, or go places, would you say that is normal?
Lesha:...
Lesha:...
Lesha: Does the person want to go out? Find a job, date, do stuff outside?
Imogene: Yes, but she never has.
Lesha: It sounds like that person needs to leave a very dangerous situation. Abuse isn’t just hitting. It’s neglect, deprivation, and control. That person sounds like they are deprived of company, love, and the chance for happiness. It’s not good for someone’s mental health to always be alone. Why is this person in that situation?
Imogene: She’s got a birth defect. People would stare at her.
Lesha: Let them stare. What are they going to do, make her feel sad about the way she looks? She already sounds sad. She’ll find the people who aren’t dickheads. Hell, she’ll find you, and you wouldn’t care about that. You have a good heart, even if you won’t let us see your face.
Imogene: It’s an old computer. It has no camera.
Lesha: It can’t be that old if it has a microphone and can handle the classes online stream, Jelly Bean. Sounds like someone wants you to think it doesn’t havea camera. Hey. Is this woman we’ve been talking about my pal Imogene?
Imogene: I’m your pal?
Lesha: Hell yes. Girl, if this is your situation, get out of it.
I hold my breath before I type, listening. If Sarah or Father burst in right now, I don’t know what they’d do.
What could they do that’s any worse? I’m already in prison. My spine straightens up, and I type.
Imogene: I don’t know what I’d need to get out of it.
Lesha: Money and a bus ticket. Or in Alaska, a plane ticket.
Imogene: I don’t have either of those things.
Lesha: Shit.
“Imogene! Stop that typing! I can hear you, you rotten little selfish bitch! Hardworking people need to sleep, and you’re tapping on their walls all the time! Tomorrow morning, I’m going to go through your history and make sure you’re only on sites related to those classes!” Father suddenly roars, making me bite my lip. I type slowly, softly, letting one finger press down the key before it can lift up the next one, silent as snowfall.
Imogene: I have to go. I’ll figure something out.
Lesha: You don’t have a degree, right?
Imogene: No.
Lesha: Find some of these nanny sites that are like “no degree required, we’ll pay for your room, your food, and your travel.” There are other kinds of sites like that, too, so be careful. Don’t want to go from bad to worse. Make sure it’s a good site, a site rated by the Better Business Bureau, the kind with a phone number and real people who answer.
I don’t tell her I can’t use the phone. That I’ve never used a phone, never seen a baby... Never even seen my own baby pictures.
Lesha: It’ll get you out of there. Then you can always find a room, get another job. Set up a bank account. There are lots of jobs that don’t require degrees.
But they probably all require some kind of account to put money in, some identification...
