Legacy of a Dreamer Read Free Page A

“slumlord” came to her mind, but she dismissed it quickly. She may have to live like a pauper now, but she was on the right track to make a better life for her. Besides, she was used to living in less-than-comfortable conditions.
    “Okay,” Chantal said, rocking back on her heels a couple of times in an impatient gesture. “If that’s it, Mr. Cannon, I don’t want to keep you from your work.”
    “Y-yes. Of course not. Good day, miss.”
    “Good day.”
    The man shuffled slowly through the open door, and she stared in his direction long after he’d closed the door behind him before finally turning to face her new life. The vacant expanse of her new living quarters was a sharp reminder of how alone she truly was.
    She’d come by herself since Regina didn’t find it necessary to see her safely to New York City. She hadn’t even seen her to the door. Sitting on the large recliner she had planted in front of the flat screen, Regina had held her hand up in a small salute of good riddance, yelling ‘have a good life!’
    “Have a good life,” Chantal whispered to herself, tracking her meager surroundings. This was a humble beginning, but it was something she could build upon and make her own. After all, she’d seen the lowest this world had to offer and survived. Here, she could make her life whatever she wanted it to be.
    Sighing, she entered her small, enclosed bathroom with her bag of toiletries and placed it on the counter before pulling her hairbrush from its depths. Catching her reflection in the mirror, Chantal stared. She had dark circles under her eyes, almost matching the jet-black color of her hair which hung long and unkempt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cut it.
    She met her gaze in the mirror, the color of her eyes almost violet in the iridescent lighting. The deep set of them made her seem older than her eighteen years. It didn’t help they’d seen unimaginable things that kept her up at night. She had her mother’s eyes; it had been the one thing she’d received countless compliments on.  
    Chantal ran a hand over her face, turning away from her reflection. Thoughts of her mother always made her feel a little sad, especially when she thought of how unalike she was to her, except her eyes, of course. Regina made it a point to make her feel like her eyes were strange or unusual, spouting crass comments anytime someone would try to give her a compliment for their rare color.
    Regina.
    Chantal hoped it would be the last time she would think of that woman. She’d help Chantal survive a life without her parents, and she guessed she owed Regina some thanks for that, but she was glad to be rid of her. Despite the fact that she was scared and alone, anything was better than living with someone who despised you.
    She unpacked what little she brought with her, organizing her clothing and shoes multiple times until she found which way she liked them best situated. Then, sometime in the afternoon, she made her way out to get some groceries.
    Passing the door to apartment 13B, she heard raised voices and an infant screaming. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, she scurried by.
    She returned an hour later, her arms filled with two paper bags loaded with the essentials. On her way back up the stairs, she’d passed by apartment 13B again, but this time the tenants were silent. She hoped the fighting wasn’t a common occurrence, but she knew that was most likely wishful thinking. Still, she felt bad. No child should have to live in that kind of hostile environment.
    Chantal knew firsthand the kind of unease that churned in a young person when they listened to their parents screaming at each other. She remembered her own parents fighting late at night while lying in her bed with the covers pulled up to her chin in a vain attempt to get comfort and muffle the noise. Chantal would listen to her mother’s cries as her father shouted in frustration. Her sense of security had been rocked, and