If I'm Good For Anything - K.B.F. (popular e readers .txt) 📗

am here when I know I don’t belong. A guy on a bicycle approaches me, and asks if I have any money.
“No, I really don’t.”
The walk back to the apartment is almost pleasant. There is no baby on my hip, and my engagement ring is on the bar at home. I feel free.
There is something about a child that ties you down. It’s not so much that they make you want to be stable. It’s that they force you too. When Charlie was six months old I received an acceptance letter from New York University. I remember when I opened it. He was rolling around in the floor at my parents house, where we lived at the time. Honestly, I forgot that I had even applied.
Congratulations! The letter began.
I crumpled the thick paper, and tossed it in the bucket of dirty diapers. I tried not to think of that letter. I even wished I would have never received it. I felt guilty for wanting another life. I felt selfish for thinking I deserved more.
I don’t know exactly what triggered my next thought that day. I have attempted to recall the exact moment when my brain clicked, and prompted my next move. I remember the grocery store, the wind in my hair on the walk home. The thought of that letter, the aching in my soul. I cannot bring to mind packing my bag. Did I lock the door? Did he know to give him whole milk? I still wonder.
However, the many things that happened afterwards I have not forgotten. Hitching a ride to the bus station. Laughing at what a cliché I had become. Crying when I reached the state line. Running to catch the last bus of the night back to Georgia. Holding my little boy when I got home, and knowing that I would never leave him again.
As summer came to an end I knew it was time for me to go back to school. There was a war waging inside of me. I wanted to stay home with Charlie, but I needed to get a degree. We both deserved a better life, I had determined. I also needed a job. Money was tight. Nolan was working nights. Seventy-five hours a week to keep a roof over our head and food on the table, and sadly it barely did that.
With two weeks to go before fall semester began I found myself scraping for whatever money I had, and didn’t have, to pay for tuition. I cursed myself for losing my scholarship through out all of the early college year “adventures”.
Why is it that the things you most want in life, are usually the least attainable? Is it because it is in our nature to be ungrateful? We are wired to feel deserving of everything. I’m not sure if I’m asking the right questions. I’m sure that I don’t have the answers.
The day my two thousand dollar bill for classes arrived, Nolan wrecked his car. I only had twelve hundred dollars, and was three hours late when I arrived to the University’s office.
“I’m sorry.” She said with a painted on Southern Miss smile. I suspect that she wasn’t really. When I turned to leave, she shook her head in disapproval. She had been watching Charlie knock all the magazines off the table. Just for the record, not picking them up didn’t make me feel any better.


Chapter twelve
“Ma’am?”
“Charlie?” My heart beats fast.
“Who is Charlie? Are you ok?” The voice is louder.
I open my eyes to find a young man. He is handsome, and tan. He tells me he rents chairs out, and that he saw me here and ran over. He tells me he has called for help. He asks me who I am. I just stare at him. He is spoiling my plan.
When the paramedics arrive, I am non-compliant. I don’t answer any questions. In fact, I don’t say anything at all.
“She doesn’t know anything?”
“It’s really sad.” I hear one of them say.
“You think these people would have at least one relative.” The other answers as they shut the door.
I do have at least one. I am on my way to a hospital somewhere in North Carolina. I am barely conscious. I do not have on clean underwear like my grandmother would have advised. These are all things I know for sure.

It is the middle of the night, and I am awakened by a banging on the door. Charlie cries out. I lay in a cold sweat. I remember it is Nolan’s night off, and race through the apartment in an attempt to find him. I hear the knock again. I find Nolan.
“Ask who it is!” I hiss loudly in his ear as I shake him.
“What?” He mumbles.
“Someone at the door.” I whisper.
He calmly gets up from the couch, and grabs his gun from under the bed. By the time he arrives at the door I am holding Charlie, huddled in a corner.
“Who is it?” He bellows out.
“Police!” A man yells.
My first instinct would have been to open the door.
“How can I help you?” Nolan shouts back. I’m glad he’s here.
“We have a warrant! We are searching for Robby Dire!” The guy sounds agitated.
Nolan opens the door, and flips on the light. I forgot we were sitting in the dark, and I am embarrassed when I realize I’m in just a t-shirt, and underwear.
“Hold on.” He tells the Police officer. “She isn’t dressed.”
I can only think how bold Nolan is while I grab my robe.
I feel like I’m watching a movie as the men march in, and search every corner of our tiny apartment. I can’t stop asking the same question. Why would Robby be here? It isn’t long before the officer answers.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion.” He says this like he is reading a script. “There has obviously been some confusion.” He replies after I explain that I haven’t heard from Robby in a long while.
The officer continues to tell us a summery of how Robby must have spent his last two years. They have found him to be at the center of most the Cocaine sales in town. He has a warrant, and a woman pressing charges for rape against him.
“The two men we arrested linked to his drug sales said you were his sister.” The officer waits expectantly for my reply.
“It’s a long story,” I sigh. “But no, I am not his biological sister.”
“Well be on the lookout for him. If you hear anything give us a call.” He hands me his card. “He could be looking for you for help.” He begins to walk out the door. “Just know that hiding him here would be a crime.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye.
“You don’t have to worry about that.” I almost laugh, and realize that’s probably not the best idea.
I lay awake for the next four hours. As soon as the sun comes up, I call my mother. I tell her to lock the doors, and don’t answer them. I don’t tell her about the police, just that Robby is a wanted criminal. She jokes that she is tough, but I can tell by the sound of her voice she hardly finds the situation funny.
Six days later I come home to find Robby standing at my doorway, backpack in hand. He is bone thin, and reeks of alcohol. He has his back to me, but his stance, and olive skin tone give it away. Plus, I can see the Browning symbol tattooed on his left arm, not a typical Asian marking. I consider turning around, but for some un-Godly reason I don’t. Charlie is with my parents therefore my motherly instinct, otherwise known as common sense, is on hiatus.
“I have a Derringer in my purse J.R., and I will be on your ass faster than a bird dog in duck season if you make any sudden moves.” I felt an unexpected bout of courage as I reached for the imaginary gun in my bag. Robby whips around, hands in the air. The sight of his face wrenches my stomach, causing me to freeze momentarily. The first thing I see are the gaping sores, and scabs. His face is scarred from many healed wounds. His lip is busted, his eye is black. I can see dried blood under his nose. He must have read my expression.
“I don’t bring ‘em what they wantin’,” he paused. “They come after it.” Even his voice sounded injured.
“What is it that they want Robby?” I attempted to play up the sisterly bit. My heart jumped at the thought of being a hero. Images of me on the news flash through my head as Robby, and I stand like figurines in the hallway. I am the Cowboy, he is the Indian. I am finally letting him in on a game.
“Money.” His eyes met mine. “Ain’t that what everyone wants? Sis?”
“I guess so.” I subconsciously glance at my worn out jeans, and broken sandal. I am beginning to lose coolness. He takes a step towards me. My blood is rushing fast, I can feel my heart beating in my ears.
“You know since my folks died you’re the only family I got.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. I am scanning him up, and down like a hawk.
“I got in to some real bad trouble sis. I got to go away for a while.” I was surprised at this. The look in his eyes almost made me feel sorry for him. I shuddered at the closeness between us. I could see the spider web of veins in his blood shot eyes. I was half expecting the officers to come parading through the door at any moment. I suddenly felt the urge to end the conversation as soon as possible.
“What do you want me to do