A Life Inbetween

Behind the metal shelving, stacked nearly to the ceiling with enormous bags of potting soil and giant clay planters, I lay hidden until the store would close. My hidy-hole was discovered by accident when I spotted a small mouse family living in it back in ‘98. Seeing the benefit of it for my own use, I promptly evicted the mice nest with a thorough cleaning out and then re-stacked the stock to suit my purposes. After that task was completed I pointed out the problem of mice to Big Mike (my supervisor) and suggested we get a cat to keep the rodents in check. He agreed, and so I kept company with Minx, a handsome mouser with black and white tuxedo markings who was cuddled up to me, purring like an idling engine.

I had been working at the Home Needs store in Baylor, Mississippi for the past two years. Having run away from my abusive home at 14, I managed to find work by lying about my age. Now, at 16, I was officially old enough for a driver’s license. My dream of having a home of my own was becoming a reality. I would need to work at Home Needs for three years, saving as much money from my minimum wage salary as I could. I lived rough and needed only to spend on food (discount items from Winn Dixie or the Dollar Store) and the occasional item of clothing (from the Salvation Army Store). I had amassed a fortune of $5,000 (kept in a savings account at Farmer’s Savings and Loan) but knew that it was not enough to buy an RV- that would take $7,500. 

My current living conditions- the hidden space I had arranged in the Garden Center was only used to conceal me (after my shift ended at 6:00 PM) until the store closed at 9:00 PM. Minx and I would curl up in there and nap. Waking up to silence and darkness gave me a strangely pleasant feeling of being alone in a place that usually bustled with other employees and customers. Minx and I would crawl out of our lair and proceed to the employees lounge where I would open him a can of his favorite cat food and nuke myself a frozen dinner I kept in the employee fridge. I knew every inch of Home Needs and could have used the PA-Muzac system for my own listening enjoyment. It was a comforting thought I never dared to attempt, for fear of being discovered. It might have helped the space I secretly occupied to feel less lonely and isolated. It was a pipe-dream for a ghost who had to live in a silent and abandoned space (save for the security lights that allowed the cameras to see any intrusion). I had long ago learned to avoid being recorded or viewed on CCTV. There were only three cameras: One at the Entrance/Exit, one aimed at the two cashier's stalls and one that watched Isle 6 (the expensive power tools).

My favorite hang out at night was the patio lawn furniture section, with its framed hammocks, cushioned seating sets and cozy umbrella tables. Here I would bring my heated dinner to sit, eat slowly and dream about my future life to come. My first plan, after I got the RV, was to pick up Rt 66 in St Louis, cross the Chain of Rocks Bridge and continue westward to California. Minx would not be traveling with me - cats don’t like to move around much. I once had an orange cat that kept running back to our abandoned shack, even though there was no one there to care for it. I guess it survived on birds and toads. I stopped trying to get it to settle in our new dump-of-a home after the third escape. I could get a dog- they love to travel, as long as they can be with you, they are happy. So in the quiet, contemplative evenings, I would sit and plan my future of travel and adventure.

After finishing my dinner, I was careful to wipe down the table and dispose of the food packaging from my meal, then finished by washing up in the lounge. There was a feel of home in there when I got to occupy it alone at night.I had a hidden stash of snacks, a bar of soap, a towel, some shampoo and a toothbrush and paste. I wasn’t able to bathe, per se, but I thoroughly washed up from head to toe at the little utility sink. Standing naked and cool as the air touched my wet body felt wonderful at the end of a hard and sweaty work day. I had learned this form of hygiene when I lived on the streets for a few months, before discovering Home Needs. I would visit the bathrooms of local businesses, the library, or a gas station; being careful to not frequent one place too often, lest I was noticed and captured for being a runaway. I had to learn the remote life of all feral creatures as a means of survival. I was invisible until I wanted to be seen. I was free. I was wild. Why I wasn’t lonely I can't say, only that the lack of gentle treatment I had never received from those I should have been able to count on was never known. I felt peace and well-being when I was left alone, forgotten. Once noticed, the trouble and pain began. I never felt worthy, but I also never felt unworthy. I learned, by watching the gentle beings who lived their lives in secret places away from people, that I was meant to follow a similar path. I was safe and happy when hidden. A liminal existence granted me a power I never had in the anchored life of abuse I had experienced in my childhood.

As the days became weeks, the weeks turned into months and those many months lapsed into completing my agenda of escape. I flourished knowing that my time at Home Needs served a temporary purpose, a fleeting span of time that allowed me to dream and plan a future. I went to my secret stash and brought out of the canvas bag my map of US Highways. I would study and record routes some nights, until sleepiness overtook me and I returned to the patio hammock I favored.Time for another span of sleep. 

Tonight I played the game of picking a location to visit. Somewhere- anywhere my finger landed on after I closed my eyes and raised my hand high above my head to drop my pointer finger on any spot. Maybe Farmington, Ohio would be a place to explore? As I took notes of the location and highways that passed through it, I thought of what I could find out about it at the Arthur Berns Public Library on my next day off. I had nearly filled a college bound with over 300 cities and towns- possible destinations along my routes. It was still to be decided, after drifting on Rt 66, would I choose to become a true nomad with no destination other than the season and where the road led? Or, did I follow the path of my chance selections?

The mystery of life is often the most enticing when we examine our journey through it. Was I a gypsy? Or was I on a determined quest like the heroes of old? At that question of self-reflection the answer filled my heart with a satisfied answer- I was a gypsy.

As I lay in my gently swaying hammock with Minx curled up next to me, I gave thanks for my many blessings: I was clean, fed and warm. I was safe and sure that there was no better thing than to share these quiet moments with a companionable cat.