Inescapable Read Free

phone, so I planned to pay that bill two months in advance. The phone was my lifeline to the outside world, and the thought of cutting it off made me feel insecure.
    After I paid all my bills, my biggest concern would be my car. The 1991 white Chevy Caprice had over one hundred and fifty thousand miles on it, and the engine light had been on for at least two months. Since I couldn’t afford to put it in the shop, I’d simply ignored the warning. Sylvia had sold it to me for five hundred dollars not long after I started at Harbor House and allowed me to make payments whenever I could. It took me a year and a half to pay it off, so now I owned it free and clear. Remembering Sylvia’s kindness made me weep. I missed her so much, but the staff had been told in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t be disturbed. Her health was at stake. As much as I wanted to call her and tell her what was going on, I couldn’t take the chance. Better for everyone that I just slip away.
    On the way home, big white flakes began to drift down from the sky, and by the time we were three blocks from our apartment, the wind had picked up, and blowing snow made it a little difficult to see. Something about the weather made me feel nostalgic for snowy days in Kingdom when Mother would make a big pot of soup. I didn’t have the ingredients for soup, but I suddenly wanted something special for dinner. Although I usually watched our money like a miser, a strange urge came over me. A feeling of reckless abandonment. What did it matter? Working hard and pinching pennies had gotten me nowhere. On a whim, I pulled into the drive-through of a local burger joint that made the best cheeseburgers in town. The last time I’d picked up any kind of fast food was last spring when I had the flu and couldn’t cook.
    â€œOh, Mama,” Charity said breathlessly when she realized we were having cheeseburgers for dinner, “this is the best day of my whole life.”
    I had to look away, pretending to read the menu. When Charity was little, too young to realize how tough life really is, she used to claim that almost every day was her favorite day. I hadn’t heard her speak those words in quite some time. Hearing them again made me happy and sad all at the same time. By the time we got home, she was chattering nonstop, full of little-girl excitement.
    In our apartment, we parked ourselves in front of the TV, scarfed down cheeseburgers, watched two different Dora DVDs, and then switched to Sleeping Beauty . I’d fallen in love with the story of the sleeping princess and sometimes played the animated movie at night after Charity went to bed. No one except Meghan knew I’d never seen a movie of any kind until after I left home at eighteen. And I’d only discovered Sleeping Beauty two years ago. For some reason, the tale of the beautiful princess Aurora, who slumbered as she waited to be rescued by her prince, touched something deep inside me. I never got tired of watching it.
    At the same yard sale where we’d found all our DVDs, Charity had discovered a Sleeping Beauty doll that was still in its box and priced at ten dollars. Ten dollars might as well have been a thousand back then, and it almost broke my daughter’s heart, as well as mine, when I had to say no. Charity had learned not to ask for things we couldn’t afford, and when she begged for the doll, I realized how important it was to her. The woman hosting the sale noticed her obvious distress and got up out of her lawn chair.
    â€œPlease,” she said, “I’d like to give her the doll as my gift.”
    When I objected, the woman explained that she’d purchased it as a surprise for her granddaughter’s birthday. But the child had gotten upset and thrown the doll on the floor because she’d wanted a Barbie doll.
    â€œThe look on your daughter’s face is the one I’d hoped to see on Stephanie’s,” she’d