Lindy opened the front door to her apartment, making sure to lock the door and deadbolt and that her dad got breakfast. The day started as every other day started. A step out the front door, and the street wakes up as if it were rising from the grave. A guy in a hood spray-painting the already graffitied wall, broken bottles flying out of broken windows, a dog or two barking in the distance.
Lindy rushed to the subway and hopped on.
She stepped off at the sixth exit. The busy city streets contrasted with the broken down Brownsville neighborhood. Cars were rushing by or jammed in traffic. Lindy walked up to a crowd of pedestrians at the crosswalk. The light turned green, and she hurried to the Starbucks straight across. After grabbing an espresso and a bagel, she ran out the door to the four blocks to Tuttle Prep School.
Lindy sighed at another day of entering the same old building with the same old people with the same old attitude. After a few sips of bitter coffee, she twisted the combination on her locker, finding the appropriate supplies for the day. After shutting her locker, a familiar voice called out for her.
"Buenos Dias, Linda!"
Lindy turned to see an old acquaintance of hers.
"Morning, Elias," she greeted her fellow scholarship student. She had known him as one of the other outcasts of the school, being an orphan from the Dominican Republic and gaining an opportunity in an exchange program. He always had that clouded look as if he were missing something.
"Did you lose something again?" she asked.
"I guess. Problem is, can not remember what I lose. Oh, well." Lindy chuckled, stashing her textbooks in her bag and starting down the opposite hall. "Where you going?"
"I'm going to return my library book to Mrs. Halle. It's about a governess in 19th century England finding her way in life."
Elias rolled his eyes. "Si, Linda. Muy bien."
Lindy wasn't surprised by Elias's reaction. Nobody in this school would react in a pleasant way about Jane Eyre. Or art. Or travel. Or anything that didn't come before 2005. Everything was all "LOL" and "OMG" in a world of computer phones. Lindy didn't have anything against that. She just wished people would stop staring at her. People whisper. "Weird girl" they'd say. "Doesn't fit right" was another favorite. This was especially true with the girls of the school. They took it as offense that she would chose education over a hot guy. But it never occurred to them the Lindy chose not to be part of that crowd.
She pushed open the doors to the library, revealing the dusty and cluttered shelf of books. Budget cuts had reduced the once grand library to a supply closet of only 10 books. But Lindy was always greeted by Mrs. Halle, the supply manager.
"Lindy!"
"Good morning, Mrs. Halle."
Lindy replaced her book on the shelf.
"Where did you run off to this time?" asked Mrs. Halle.
"A city in 19th century England. Do you have anything new?" Lindy asked, though she knew the answer.
"I'm afraid not, sweetie. But you're welcome to go back to some of the other places." Lindy smiled politely and scanned over the shelf, finally selecting Phantom of the Opera. Paris, a place she would love to visit someday. "Good choice. I'll see you tomorrow, I hope."
Lindy turned at the door. "Mrs. Halle, your little library makes this tiny supply closet of a life seem so much bigger." And she exited the closet as the first bell rang. She strolled upstream towards her first period geometry, her book in hand. She felt the crowd part for her to move. She supposed because she was the weird kid, but whatever. She marched up the stairs, passing the kids late to their classes across the school. Lindy glanced around and spotted her across the hall.
"Hey, Kendra!"
The goth girl turned around, her green hair bobbing at her ears. Lindy walked up to her.
"I got you a bagel." Kendra took the bagel graciously until she looked back up at Lindy.
"What? No coffee?"
Lindy rolled her eyes and handed Kendra her cup of slightly drunken coffee. She waved a goodbye to Kendra and hurried off to her first class.
The dismissal bell rang, the halls flooding with students to return to luxury penthouses and upstate mansions. Lindy was on the subway, her round trip ticket to her Brownsville borrow. The subway jerked to a halt, letting Lindy make her way up to her disheveled street. She couldn't wait to get her homework out of the way and read her book again. She just hoped her father wasn't in a bitchy mood today. She entered her complex, marched up the six flights, and unlocked the door and deadbolt.
Shutting the door quietly, Lindy glanced around her apartment. Her father, old and tired-looking, laid on the couch with a blanket. She sighed silently. Her father had been her hero at one point. But the once hardworking teacher and devoted father had degenerated into the poor, sickly addict he'd led himself to be. In a way, she was proud of him. He'd been clean for 2 weeks now, and maybe...maybe he would finally take a turn at life for a change.
She set her bag on the counter, the old man jerked awake. Lindy started, not sure how her father would react. She was surprised and relieved to see that he waved her over to him. She obliged, kneeling down beside him.
"Hey, Dad. How was your day?"
"Same as... the last day I...woke up. Saw you." His voice was still groggy with sleep, or perhaps he was drunk. Lindy only smiled.
"I'm proud of you. You've been clean for 2 weeks now. The clinic said that if you can go that long you can get back on your feet."
He smoothed her hair. Lindy wasn't sure if he was fully conscious of his actions, but tried to play along. Lindy reached for the book on the coffee table.
"You want me to read to you?" Lindy asked.
"Shuh..." was more or less of an answer. Lindy knitted her eyebrows. This wasn't like him on his clean days. He was more aware, and centered. Something wasn't right. She opened to a random page in her Shakespeare works and began reading a sonnet. Her father still ran his fingers through her hair. His combing soon became rough and harsh.
"Dad, that's too tight. Let go." His grip became tighter. "Ow! Dad! AH!" His grip finally came loose, and Lindy fell to the floor. "Dad, what's wrong with you?!"
"Don't be like that, Laura. Be a good girl..."
Lindy stood, shaking with rage and disappointment. Her father never spoke her mother's name, unless he was out of it. She couldn't believe it, but was expecting it at the same time. Her father going back to his old ways.
"Dad, you said you would - "
She was interrupted by a buzz at the speaker. She held the button and yelled a "yes?!" before someone answered.
"Hey Linds. It's Victor."
She sighed. "Not in the mood."
"No, no, no! Hear me out. Is your dad in?"
"Go away."
"C'mon! I got money, or food, or we could go out sometime?"
"No!" Lindy hit the silent button before he could answer. The buzzer rang a few times before it finally stopped. Mysterious men were always buzzing at her door, but Victor and his brother Juan Paulo were persistent. She knew what they were: drug dealers. Her father had let his temptation get the best of him. And now he owed them. Someway, somehow; those guys would get their way. It always happened.
She stormed back over to her father, anger pulsing through her but eager to get her father back to rehab.
"Okay, Dad. Let's go. We're going back!"
She yanked the blanket from him, his demeanor abruptly changing.
"What the hell?!"
Lindy grabbed the phone receiver, dialing the number for the rehab center. She yelped as someone grabbed her by the hair and her face hit the kitchen countertop. She struggled against the grip, yelling at him hysterically.
"You called the COPS on me, bitch! You called them on your own father?!"
"No!" Lindy squealed. "It was the rehab clinic!"
"LIAR!" He pulled her head back until she was bending over backwards into his chest. His eyes were clouded, out of whack. She knew this wasn't him, it was the drugs. She flashed a begging look, trying to reach the father she loved. She thought she saw something, because he released her hair and shoved her to the floor. He huffed loudly.
"You better not call the cops. You better not if you know what's good for you."
He turned and hobbled out of the living room. As soon as she thought he was out of earshot, Lindy pulled herself up with the receiver in hand. The impatient clerk on the other end had just said her tenth "hello" when Lindy finally answered and explained the situation.
"What do you mean you won't readmit him?!" Lindy whispered frantically.
"I'm sorry, but any patient who's been discharged within one month will have to visit our outpatient center."
Lindy groaned and asked for the address.
The taxi that held her father sped away, leaving Lindy with a moment of peace. Only a moment. She shouldn't be surprised. If anything, she should be numbed by now. She marched back into her apartment, the stale smell of chemicals and alcohol still hanging in the air. She folded the blanket on the couch and set it in the linen closet. That reminded her...
The laundry!
She grabbed the wicker basket by the table and sped down the stairs to the laundry room just as the washer dinged. She tossed the soapy clothes into the basket and turned to the dryer. She groaned. "Again?!"
The steaming dryer with the knob unscrewed sat with a sticky note reading "OUT OF ORDER" in big letters. She ripped off the sticky note to reveal another sticky note reading "AGAIN". She heaved the wicker basket up the stairs, knowing she'd have to use the laundry wire outside. After slamming the door in frustration, she forced the window open. The sun was still up in the sky, but the slightest of breezes met her face. The alley that the wire suspended over was completely shaded. She turned on the oscillating fan by the kitchen table as she began pinning each piece of laundry on the wire. As the fan blew her hair out of her face, a lightbulb flickered on.
Lindy flipped another page before glancing back at her laundry. She had made sure to thank Ms. Lester for that old toy car. The motor had been quite useful. She grinned proudly as another shirt slid through the window, happily waving in the fan's perfectly stationed breeze, and skidded back out. Albeit the honking of cars and the yelling of people in the other apartments, Lindy was finally at peace for once. Her homework was now finished and her seventh trip to Paris was nearly complete.
"Hey!"
Lindy looked up from her journey, searching for whoever had called out. She looked up to find a little girl, no older than eight, staring down at her from the fire escape above her. She had frizzy black hair and a pink floral dress a size and a half too small. She stared at Lindy with a befuddled look.
"What are you doing?"
"Laundry," Lindy answered simply. "It's pretty exciting if you know how to make it."
"It looks more like a book, ma'am."
Lindy giggled. "Well, yeah. I was just in Paris."
"No, you not. You reading from one of those book-a-ma-jigs."
Lindy laughed again. "Well, sometimes it feels like I'm really there. You wanna come?" She waved for her to come down. "C'mon."
The little girl looked back at her window cautiously, then at Lindy before stepping down the metal stairs and sitting down on the second step. Lindy moved to the bottom step with her bag, pulling out her homework. "These are just a few simple sentences. I want you to look at the word I point to and read it for me. Okay?"
She nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Lindy pointed to one word in the middle of the article. The girl squinted. "A-Apple." Lindy nodded and pointed to the next word. "That. Falls. Far. From the tree."
Lindy beamed at the little girl. "That's really good. Good job!" Lindy felt her heart swell with pride until a sharp yell interrupted to the two from the next floor up.
"NEVAEH!"
The two girls snapped their heads up at the obese woman standing on the fire escape above. The little girl, Nevaeh, took on a look of terror as the woman stomped down the stairs and grabbed her by the arm.
"What the hell you thinkin' going out on this damn escape. I told you to stay in the damn house!"
Nevaeh was sobbing now, babbling. "I'm sorry, Mama! I'm sorry! I sorry!" She screamed as her mother pushed her up the stairs and locked eyes with Lindy.
"And you! Bitch, you stay away from my daughter!"
"I-I'm sorry, ma'am. I was just teaching your daughter how to re - ."
"Readin' don't get you nowhere out here! You shut the hell up in your piece of shit house and stay out of my way!"
Lindy shrank inside, the woman stomping back up the steps. A sudden snap made Lindy gasp, and the laundry wire fluttered to the wall. She rushed to pull her laundry back up, ignoring the laughing from the building from the other side of the alleyway. She yanked the laundry onto the windowsill next to her and crawled inside, pulling her still slightly-damp laundry inside.
Why do they have to do this to me? she asked. She cringed as she could hear the screaming of Nevaeh from upstairs, followed by rhythmic smacking. She grimaced, throwing herself out of her apartment door and outside, trying to take her mind off of everything. Was it that much of a deal to teach a little girl how to read? Or give a goth girl some breakfast? Or to read in general?
"Lindy!"
She turned the opposite direction as Victor came bounding across the street.
"No, wait! Linds. Lindsay! Lindy Lohan!"
"Stop calling me weird names!"
"Oh come on. I mean it out of love!" Victor said. Lindy quickened her pace, but Victor stepped in front of her. "Heard you got into trouble with old lady Fratalli. Teaching her youngest how to read."
"I don't see a problem in trying to teach another child how to read."
"Lindy, the only kids you should be worried about are your own." His hands were on her waist, coming uncomfortably close to her chest. She pushed his hands away and pressed closer to her apartment complex.
"I'm too young to have kids!"
He grabbed her arm. "Maybe you haven't met the right guy?"
"It's a small building and a limited school. I've met all the men I need to."
"Maybe you should look again!"
"I have!"
"Okay, Miss I-Go-To-Private-Manhattan-School. I have enough money to provide. I have a steady job, a decent home, a car. People can change."
She backed up into the doorway, his fingers closing around her neckline. She searched for the doorknob while still trying to distract him. "No, I-I'm sorry. I just can't."
She discovered the knob and forced her way in, marching up the stairs. She could hear his footsteps following her own.
"Lindy, you know how it is here! It's survival of the fittest. After your dad kicks his own bucket, you'll end up in foster care."
"At least foster care would be better than this."
"Exactly!" She ran up to her door, fiddling with her keychain. He firmly grabbed her shoulder. "Lin, you keep living like this and you won't get nothing! This is the thug life, baby. For people like us, it won't get any better."
She unlocked the door, shooting him a death stare. "I may be the daughter of an addict, but I'm not part of a thug life. I am sorry, but whatever you think we have, we don't. Your big boss brother selling his crap to my dad is part of why I am here in the first place. Stay away from me! Goodbye!"
She yanked the door closed, locking the door, deadbolt, and latching the chain for good measure. Finally relieved, she dropped her head into the doorframe. She waited a few minutes, not making a sound. She peered through the peephole just to be sure he was gone, then out the window. She climbed onto the fire escape, the pigeons perching on the rails.
"Did that really just happen?! Did he really think that - UGH! Never! It'll be a cold day in Hell when I relent to him; I can guarantee that. There's got to be more than this!" She hustled up the fire escape steps, not caring how much noise she made. She finally climbed the ladder to the roof and gazed out onto the horizon. It wasn't much to look at, but the skyline of New York was a breathtaking enough view for her. She wanted more views, more cities, more adventure! She wanted to be free from this life! Free from her life.
She sat down beside the edge of the roof, gazing out onto the streets. Pigeons flew to perch next to her.
"You know, it'd be nice for someone to...understand. For once. Or, at least, try to. I want so much more than what this little city has in store for me."