“Charles Gibbons. I’m pretty sure he sent this message to me. I’d like to petition to be put into protective custody.” I rushed out, handing my phone to Officer Grant.
He tutted, then gave it back and made another note.
“Okay. I’m going to go back to the precinct and make some calls about this Mr. Charles Gibbons. I’ll see if I can get a judge to sign off on your request.”
Officer Grant tore off a piece of paper that had my name, file number, and the date of the incident on it before he gave me a brief nod and turned towards the door.
His exit was loud. The silence that replaced him was deafening.
Opening my phone, I read the message again.
[Unknown]: You have 48 hours to leave New York.
My bare feet moved back and forth across the cold, hard floor, pacing as I tried to make sense of my predicament.
I had no house and no money. A few months ago, I’d had to sell Cellie’s car to pay for the mortgage on the house, and now it was all gone. Where was I supposed to go?
There was no time to stop and fill out forms or file claims. The worst part of it all was that I didn’t have a single person to call because I’d pushed everyone away.
My phone lit up as a call came through from my neighbor, Vanessa. She lived a couple of houses down from us and had probably seen everything from her lawn. I had a couple of classes with her boyfriend, Romero, and he basically lived with her, so they’d come for dinner sometimes when we studied for an exam. I sat on the bed and contemplated answering or not. I didn’t have it in me to explain what happened again, but I answered anyway.
“Hey Vanessa, this is kind of a bad time.”
“Holy shit, Evelyn, are you okay?” she shrieked, causing me to pull the phone from my ears to keep my hearing intact.
“I’m not hurt, just homeless,” I said, biting back a groan. “The hospital wants to keep me here another night, but I can’t stay here. I need to see if there's anything left for me at the house.”
I’d stashed away a small piece of hope that there was something salvageable for me, a tiny piece of my past, of happier days to hold onto.
“Do you want us to come get you? Romero and I can come scoop you.”
“I don’t want you to go out of your way for me. I’ll figure it out,” I replied with as much faux bravado as I could muster.
“You’ll stay with us tonight, and then you can figure it out.” Vanessa smacked her gum on the other end of the line.
One night.
I would stay with Vanessa and Romero for one night, then I’d leave New York behind.
“Okay, I’ll stay. I’m at Johnson Medical—I’ll start working on getting discharged. Thank you so much, Vanessa.”
“That’s what neighbors are supposed to do. See you in an hour.”
After she hung up, I picked up the hospital phone to request to be discharged. A nurse was kind and brought me a pair of canvas shoes to leave in. Dr. Singh returned a few moments later and reminded me that I was leaving against medical instructions. I nodded along, mentally cataloging symptoms he said I should look out for, and signed the papers for my release.
Vanessa and Romero were parked outside by the time I made it through the hospital’s revolving doors. I can’t help but scan the parking lot for any signs of Charles as I jogged to the waiting car.
Once I was seated in the backseat we drove off, the hospital fading in the rearview mirror. It took twenty minutes for us to be on our block and in front of their house.
Walking into their house felt like walking into the past. I saw Celeste and Vanessa adding more tequila than the recipe called for on Margarita night, the four of us gathered around the kitchen island, studying for our exams during finals week.
“When we heard the sirens and saw the truck at your place, we tried calling you,” Romero said, setting his keys and phone on the kitchen island. “But then we saw them taking you in the ambulance.”
“I wanted to try calling you last night, but Romero convinced me not to, girl,” Vanessa continued as she pulled out a few glasses from the cabinet.
“Thank you, guys, for checking in with me. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.” My choices were limited, and if they hadn’t offered me a place to stay tonight, I’d probably be sleeping on a park bench.
“It’s all good.” Romero smiled as he pulled out a chair at the island and gestured for me to sit.
