Finding Hope Read online

  “So where should I start,” Joy thought to herself. “I need a plan. And I guess that plan begins with food.”

  Right outside the station Joy found a diner still open and serving food. She was ready to walk by, but a giant neon sign flashing “HOT FOOD” pulled her through the front doors. As she sat down she realized just how hungry she was. The diner looked like a throwback to the early sixties. An old, broken jukebox sat in the corner of the restaurant like a relic from happier days. There were several other customers sitting at chipped formica tables as they quietly ate their meals. The smell of exotic spices and meat filled the small diner as Joy’s mouth began to water.

  “Is that chili I smell,” Joy asked the waitress behind the counter.

  “Sure is, hon. Fresh from the can this morning,” the waitress said with a bleak smile. “We’ve also got some actual franks-n-beans if ‘ur interested.”

  Realizing the sarcasm in the waitress’ comment, Joy quietly said, “I guess I’ll just take a glass of water right now. Do you have a menu?”

  The waitress grabbed a glass of cool water and walked back over to Joy. “I’m sorry dear. I didn’t mean to come off so rough. We don’t have menus here. What you see on the board is what we got,” she said smiling kindly at Joy. “My name is Marge. When you’re ready just flag me down.”

  Joy ordered several things from the limited menu and ate till she had her fill.

  “Boy, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone take to hash from a can like that! You must’ve been starving girl. Look at you! You can’t be more that a buck twenty. Where’d ya put it all?” Marge exclaimed with a heavy southern accent. “Did you save room for pie?”

  Joy, feeling embarrassed by the attention, smiled and finished her glass of cool water. When she had finished the last scraps of the delicious processed food from her old cracked plate, Joy signaled to Marge that she was ready for the check.

  “Hey Marge, tell me a bit about St. Louis. How are things here? I just got off the train, and I’m looking for work. I’m thinking about staying at the hotel across the street, but work is what I really need. You guys hiring?” Joy asked trying to get a feel for her new home.

  “Well dear, you here alone?” Marge replied trying to remain aloof. “If you are, I’d sure be careful. There’s some bad stuff out there. Jobs are hard to come by, and there’s lots of strugglin’ people out and about. If you’re passing through that’s one thing, but I can’t imagine stayin’ – lots of scum wrecking it for us honest folks. Downtown’s fine, but out past the river… out there, I’d avoid that area like the plague.”

  Joy could tell that Marge was trying to downplay the dire state of affairs despite her casual response. “What about the suburbs west of here?” Joy asked digging for more information.

  “Like I said, downtown’s fine, and you can find a place to stay, but finding work? That’s another thing,” Marge replied to the fragile, innocent girl.

  As Joy stood at the register counting out a few small coins to pay her bill, she noticed a foul smelling man sitting at the counter only a few feet away. It wasn’t his blight that caught her attention but his actions that made her take notice. As he sat nursing a cold cup of coffee, he was mumbling and typing on a mobile device. She recognized the movements like some sort of lost language. He was tapping all across the miniature screen. Sliding his fingers and dictating his voice, he appeared to be using a network enabled cell phone. Joy’s soul leaped within her small body amazed at the awesome sight.

  “They have coverage here in St. Louis,” she thought to herself. Unable to focus on anything else, she leaned in to get a better view. To her despair, the screen remained black as the delusional man worked his obsolete and non-functional device. Her heart was shattered from the disappointment. After receiving her change, Joy turned to leave the small diner.

  “Let me give you some advice dear. If I was you, I’d get back on the train and never look back,” Marge said with conviction. “This city has nothing to offer a girl like you.”

  Joy left the diner and took the advice of her new friend. She walked back into the station and sat down to find direction. After several unsuccessful hours of brainstorming, Joy couldn’t figure out what to do next. She got up to go pee. She knew she had to come up with a plan but had no idea where to begin. As she walked along the now empty halls, she saw her fate hanging in the window of the St. Louis Travel Center. The poster beckoned her like an old, lost friend. In big yellow letters, superimposed over white wispy surf and soft salty sand, it read, “Beautiful Ocean City – Book Your Getaway Now.”

  Meanwhile, back in New Providence, the people who knew Joy noticed her disappearance immediately. Alec had planned on meeting her that very afternoon, and when she didn’t show up, he became concerned. He went to the mercantile hoping to find her there. The only person he found was Mr. Begich.

  “Good afternoon, Steve. Is Joy working today?” Alec asked acting as casual as possible.

  Mr. Begich stood up from his paperwork greeting Alec warmly. “Alec my boy! How’s life in the fast lane?” Mr. Begich asked not really hearing the question from Alec. “You’re looking good, son.”

  “Thanks, Steve. Say have you seen Joy today? I was supposed to meet her for lunch, but she never showed up,” Alec replied feeling uncomfortable checking on Joy.

  “No, haven’t seen her. I thought she must have taken the day off, and it slipped my mind. I was expecting her to open the store this morning,” Mr. Begich replied as the smile faded from his face.

  “Can I talk to Hope?” Alec asked knowing Joy’s best friend would know where she was.

  “Actually, she took the day off today. I’m not expecting her back at work until tomorrow afternoon,” replied Mr. Begich. Both men looked at each other, unsure how to interpret the information.

  News spread around the tight knit community that one of their own was missing. Fearful, Mika hurried home to check on his wife. “Hope… honey, are you home?” Mika shouted.

  From one of the back bedrooms, she emerged sullen and quiet. “I’m here,” Hope said softly.

  Mika could tell by Hope’s body language that she was still angry about what had happened. He had apologized so many times and didn’t know what else to do. What he had done was an awful thing, and he knew it, but according to the Law, he had these rights as the man of the house. He struggled to reconcile his feelings of shame and what was allowed under the Law.

  “Hey hon, have you seen Joy today? She didn’t make it into work and nobody knows where she is,” Mika asked.

  Hope replied in a disconnected tone, “No, haven’t seen her.”

  Hope was growing to hate Mika. With each passing day, Hope grew angrier at her husband. As far as she was concerned, Mika had raped her regardless what the Law said. She was trapped with nowhere to go and nobody to love. Hope was again alone.

  It took almost two full days for Joy to travel across country. Along the way, Joy watched the landscape pass in front of her eyes. Many cities stood strong, the people alive with courage and conviction, working together to rebuild. Others sat abandoned and forgotten. These cities were hollow and scarred, just a reminder to the failure of modern man. Millions of automobiles speckled the landscape the entire journey, like monuments of better times. Most of them burned and scavenged for parts, were now skeletons waiting to be reclaimed by the earth.

  When Joy finally reached her destination, she knew she was home. Stepping out of the train station, the warm sunlight greeted her with a kiss. Her face tightened in the midday air which was rich and dense from the smell of the sea. Holding her small suitcase in hand, she walked directly east until she reached the ocean. She fell to her knees grabbing the sand with both hands. As she looked out to the horizon, she felt the planet smile back at her in delight.

  Hope continued on despite the events that shook her to the core. She felt like a zombie, living day after day in a fog. With no one to confide in, she kept the dark secrets hidden. Over the next sever
al weeks, her job began to suffer as her quality fell. No longer smiling, people avoided her completely. The bright and pleasant Hope had been replaced by the stranger she’d become. She was drinking now, trying to forget. She tried to erase what Mika had done, Thomas and Julian, and the pain that she had felt when young. Clouds rolled into New Providence darkening her life.

  “I’m sorry I’m late Steve,” Hope said to Mr. Begich. “I over slept.”

  “Seems like I need to get you another alarm clock,” Mr. Begich replied trying to appear understanding. “Did you have a chance to complete those two orders last night? They need to go out today.”

  Hope fidgeted uncomfortably as she replied, “I got most of the seams stitched but still need to complete the lining. I’ve been so busy lately. I’ll have them ready to go by tomorrow.”

  Mr. Begich was clearly annoyed with the situation. “Hope, you knew those had to get done. East Field said they were going to cancel the order unless they shipped today,” Mr. Begich said forcefully. “What are we going to do now? That was custom work. We’re going to lose the business, and the material can’t be re-used. What is going on with you Hope?”

  “I’m sorry Steve. I haven’t been myself. It’s just that…,” Hope said as she was interrupted by Mr. Begich.

  “That’s what you were saying last week. There’s always some reason. I’m getting tired of cleaning up after you and sick of the excuses,” he said angrily. “Pull it together or I’m going to have to find somebody else. Take the day off! Just go.”

  Hope left the mercantile in shame. She knew her job had been slipping for some time, but she’d never seen Mr. Begich so upset. She was distraught and needed a drink. She slowly walked along the gravel road out of town as the fresh snow spun around her feet. It was late October, and Hope felt the cold air on her face as it drove deep into her soul. As she reached the property line of her broken home, she noticed the late afternoon sun hanging in the sky. It was pale and distant like a promise not kept, providing no warmth to her empty body. She felt like falling down and disappearing into the frozen brown leaves. Reaching her house, Hope gathered up something to drink and a warm blanket to sit by the fireplace. She quickly fell asleep.

  Sometime late in the evening, Hope was awoken by Mika. “Hey honey, I went out with the guys after work. It was a last minute thing. I hope you weren’t waiting up for me,” Mika said trying to be sweet and gentle.

  Hope could smell the alcohol on his breath even though she was quite drunk as well. “That’s fine. I wasn’t waiting. I’m just tired, and I’m going to bed,” Hope replied trying to remain cordial to the man who had done her so wrong.

  “Hey wait a minute. I’ve missed you. You know that I love you, right? How long ya gonna keep pushing me away?” Mika asked while trying to put his hand on her shoulder. “We are married you know.”

  Hope continued to walk to the back bedroom without saying a word. Mika became angry as he slurred, “This is ridiculous! At some point you need to get over this. It’s been weeks since that happened. I said I’m sorry. According to the Law, I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Hope turned and looked at the man towering over her shaking with anger. “I’m the man of the house, and you’re my wife. We do as I say we do,” Mika spat out. “I could take you right now if I wish, that’s the Law. The reason I don’t is because I love you so much.”

  Knowing the situation could escalate at any moment Hope carefully walked into the bedroom locking the door behind her. As she sat on the bed she knew her situation was bleak. There was no longer any way of living in the home she’d built for herself. Mika would continue to loom over her, and she had to either acquiesce or leave. She made up her mind. When he fell asleep, she’d quietly gather her things and slip into the night. She waited for her chance, patiently listening for sounds that would tell her it was time to go. After several hours, Hope got her cue. She could hear Mika snoring from the other room. Hope quietly opened the door, grabbed the bag she’d packed and slipped away.

  As she dashed down the road away from her home, she remembered her father’s guitar. “Ahhh… I can’t believe I forgot it,” Hope said to herself. “I can’t go back now.”

  She struggled with the dilemma, unsure what to do as her breath billowed into the frosty night air. Almost ready to sacrifice the old instrument, she regretfully returned to the house. The musical relic meant far too much to her to leave behind. As she slowly opened the front door, she paused to listen for movement. She again heard Mika fast asleep. She silently crept upstairs to the closet where it lived as the floorboards creaked and whined below her feet. She retrieved the forgotten guitar from its hiding space.

  When Hope opened the front door to escape back outside, she heard Mika wake up. She ran from the house out into her yard only to be tackled by the heavy man.

  “I can’t believe you’re gonna leave me while I’m sleeping, you bitch! You’re not going anywhere!” Mika screamed with fury. “Get back inside!”

  Hope struggled with the strong man, kicking him as hard as her small body would allow. Enraged, Mika punched Hope on the side of her forehead with a power Hope had never felt. She instantly fell, spinning and dazed, tossing her bag and her father’s guitar onto the frozen ground. Knowing the devastation it would cause, Mika picked up the finely crafted mahogany instrument and smashed it against the house. In an instant her father’s memory splintered with the old guitar. She lost hope. Mika grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back inside. When they reached the kitchen, Hope gathered enough strength to slip out of his grasp.

  “I’m leaving! LET ME GO, I CAN’T STAND IT HERE!” Hope squealed at the top of her lungs.

  Mika chased Hope into the living room where they had spent many wonderful nights together determined to crush her tiny body. “You’re my wife, you bitch! How dare you!” Mika hollered as he punched her several times on the face and body.

  Terrified, Hope reached for anything to save her life. She felt the resentment and violence pulsing from his giant body as he pinned her small frame against the floor. He leaned back with his fists held high as Hope scrambled for protection. Grabbing a fireplace poker firmly in hand, Hope extended her arms trying to defend herself. In a blur of chaotic jerks and tortured cries, the poker dove deep into his muscular neck past the barb used for turning logs.

  Blood rained across their beautiful home as Mika stood up with his eyes wide with panic. He staggered back and then wobbled from the icy steel against his internal flesh. Hope’s screams reached a new intensity with her face spattered with Mika’s blood. Like an animal, Mika instantly pulled and twisted the poker trying to free it from his neck. In a frenzy, he tore the poker free, pulling arteries, tissue, and his windpipe out along with it. Streamers of red sprayed out as Mika fell to his knees. Hope stood and watched in terror unable to move. He looked at her with his eyes blinking wildly, but there was nothing Hope could do. Her husband, who she once loved, bled to death on their living room rug.

  Hope’s mind snapped as hysteria took control. She knew her fate was sealed for what she had done. According to the Law, the next death would be her own. No judge, no jury, just words on a page dictated her fate. With incredible speed, she ran to bathroom and climbed into the shower. It took forever to wash Mika’s life from her clothes and hair. She took the wet, crimson clothing and stuffed them into the fireplace, saturating them with kerosene. She then lit the clothing ablaze, creating flickering light that danced across her naked, wet body. Without stopping to think, she got dressed and knew she had to run far away.

  Hope went to the cupboard full of confusion and retrieved a small tin can where Mika kept a few silver coins. She grabbed the silver and threw it into her bag. She snatched of few of her belongings, and she fled the scene. She ran through the early morning light making her way to the train station. She calmly purchased the ticket with the dead man’s silver. Acting as casually as possible, she sat and waited for the train. At eleven fifteen, when the train finally arrived, she s
tepped into the passenger car knowing she would never return.

  Chapter 8

  The Mystics

  Hope sat frozen while the train lumbered heavily along the tracks. Her mind was empty, overwhelmed by the calamity of the previous night. She stared out the window wanting to forget. She closed her eyes and drifted away to the quiet place she kept all for herself. The world around her vanished as a light dusting of snow clung to her small locomotive window.

  She arrived at the station around eight pm. The snow was no longer falling but still swirled around the tracks. It was a cold October night when Hope stepped onto the platform in St. Louis. With her small bag in hand, she walked inside the train station. The great space was vacant except for a few busy travelers. They hurried along, oblivious to Hope. She reached the stairs that led to the front exit where two women were standing, playing music. Hope paused and listened to a few of the tunes she recognized. She noticed the younger of the two was struggling, playing an old guitar which was way out of tune. Every time the young musician came to the chorus, she fumbled with the chords she was attempting to play. Hope sat down, her bag in her lap, to enjoy the slightly off tempo music.

  “Hi there. How’s it sound?” the older woman asked Hope.

  “It sounds wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me sitting and listening a while,” Hope replied forcing a smile.

  “Not at all friend. We love the company,” the younger women said still trying to play the difficult chord. “By the way, my name is Bahina, and this is my sister Meera.”

  Hope sat quietly absorbing the sounds. She was raw and empty feeling nothing at all. All she felt was the music… the music soared across her lonely spirit. While Hope sat, listening, and watching, she noticed the people who would stop and enjoy the amateur performance. They were from all walks of life, connected by song. The older of the two women, Meera, had an amazing voice. She could hit any note with ease and precision. Her voice was strong with soul, passion, and grittiness that can only come with age. Bahina continued to struggle every time that one chord was played.