What it Takes

A Boy/Girl Meets World Fanfic

By Auburn Red

Chapter Two: Justin and Annabelle

Minkus is wrapping up his speech and the counselor is calling for a 15 minute break. He walks up to me and I admit that I am a bit tongue-tied but he looks concerned.

I am nervous. "You're-"

He smiles. "Here I'm just Stuart. Are you lost?"

"This is the Adult Support Group for Abuse right?" I ask. Duh, what else would it be? But I'm not sure that I belong here. I had images in my head when I came here that the group would be all women and just me. I'm not even sure that I should be here and wouldn't be here if it weren't for my supervisor.

I had been having trouble concentrating at work and my supervisor, Donna, asked me what was wrong. I told her that Annie and Justin had been having nightmares for some time. Things should be okay. I am working now at a good job and we live in a nice apartment but some things had been bothering them. Justin seemed afraid of me at times. If he did something wrong, he constantly apologized making a bigger deal out of it than it was. Annie got clingy and ask where I was going and was worried if I was out even a second longer than I was supposed to be. She kept asking if I was going to come back afraid that I would leave her forever.

I reminded them that we were together when things were bad. Justin then sadly told me, "But things aren't bad anymore, Daddy." Obviously, they thought that now that things were better, my feelings for them would change.

I told Donna about the kids' behavior and gave her some of the highlights of my unfortunate marriage. She said that it sounded like some of what her son went through after she had ended an abusive relationship. Then she recommended the support group for adult and child victims of abuse.

"I thought you and your husband got along," I said.

"Oh Greg's great," Donna said. "He's a terrific stepfather to Jayden but until him I hadn't exactly had the best luck in picking boyfriends. Many of them were real losers and some liked to use their fists. If it hadn't have been for going to these meetings, I probably wouldn't have broken those patterns and got with a decent guy."

I was reluctant, but she encouraged me to try it promising to be there every step of the way. Unfortunately, the kids and I ended up going by ourselves. Donna's mother-in-law had some kind of emergency so she and Greg had to go be with her, so Justin, Annie, and I are here by ourselves.

I speak again to Stuart Minkus, or Stuart as he calls himself. He's next to a pretty blond woman with a sweet face. Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought. "I'm just glad to know that there's another guy here. I mean when Desiree-my ex-wife-well I thought I was the only one."

Stuart nodded. It's clear he knew exactly what I went through. "You're not. Trust me, we've all been there."

What if they ask me to speak about my experience? Am I ready? Maybe I should be with Justin and Annie instead. "My kids are upstairs. I hope that this isn't too much for them," I say looking upwards.

"I'm sure that they'll be fine," Stuart said as though he knew exactly that problem. I remember from the gossip stories. He had a teenage son with a weird name. What was it-Finkle? Sparkle? Who knows with celebrity kid names? They always like to outdo each other with originality. I'm guessing he had to look after his boy and worry about him as much as I had to worry about my children. "What's your name?" he asks.

"Jason Mars-"I stop. Like Stuart it might be best just to use my first name. I'm not a celebrity but I just got my life back on track. I don't want any added pressures. Besides I share the same name as a famous actor. Imagine if the gossip got out that he was in an abuse support group rather than me. Wouldn't that be one for TMZ? "Just Jason." I say.

Stuart leads me inside the group and introduces me to the blond. "Well, Jason, this is Katy and welcome to our group," He says.

"Hi Jason," Katy says. She has a nice smile that instantly welcomes people. I wonder if she's a waitress or a flight attendant something that works with people. She seems like someone who has that sunshiny personality.

"Hi Katy," I say as they invite me inside the room and lead me to the refreshments table. I help myself to some coffee and doughnuts while the three of us sit down. We talk about our kids and what we do for a living. Apparently Minkus' son (Farkle! I knew he had a weird name!) and Katy's daughter, Maya go to the same school and are currently dating. Also talk about weird coincidences, they are also friends with Eric Matthews' younger brother, Cory and Stuart went to John Adams High in Philadelphia the same time I did!

"Another Philadelphian friend of Cory, Shawn, and Topanga's?" Katy mocks in annoyed surprise. "I swear that's all this city is made up of!" She laughs to let us know she was kidding.

"No, not them," I laugh. "I mean I remember them, but mostly I was friends with Cory's brother, Eric."

"Ah the senator," Stuart says "If you can believe that."

"He hasn't really changed much, sometimes makes me wonder what all of you were on when you voted for him" I joke. "But he's a great guy. This state will do well by him."

"It seems to so far," Stuart says and Katy nods. I agree. I don't think that I would be where I am today without Eric believing in me and helping me every step of the way.

Katy gets up. "Excuse me boys, I'll be right back," She says and raises a teasing finger. "No talking about me while I'm gone."

She barely turns her back before Minkus says, "Now about that Katy Hart she is just awful. I absolutely cannot stand that woman."

Katy smirks. "Oh that reminds me, I have to touch up my lips." She takes out a small container of lip gloss and puts it to her lips using one finger (No points in guessing which finger).

Minkus' mouth opens in mock shock. "Now, Katy, we are in the House of the Lord! Does Maya know you do that gesture?"

"First off Mr.-I'm-An-Agnostic-And-Proud-Of-It, the only Lord you are familiar with is Jack Lord-"

"-From the original Hawaii Five-O," Minkus adds "But not true. I'm also familiar with Lord Byron, Lord Richard Attenborough, and Little Lord Fauntleroy-"

"-10 Lords a Leaping," I add. Minkus shakes his finger as if to say, 'that's true.'

Katy rolls her eyes at the two smartasses next to her "And secondly I'm just putting on lip gloss. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it," She insists innocently. "Besides, Maya knows enough to do as her mother says not as she does."

We laugh. "Oh Shawn has a wonder with you doesn't he?"

"And Morgan is one lucky girl with you," Katy says.

I look from one to the other. "So you two aren't together?" I ask.

They both shake their heads. "No, no way," Stuart says.

"No, eww," Katy says gently pushing Stuart's face away from her.

"Not at all hurtful," Stuart says sarcastically. "Anyway, Katy and I are more like a brother and sister really. Even more so nowadays."

"Because your kids are together," I reason.

"No, well there is that as well, "Katy replies. "But Stuart's girlfriend, Morgan, is the younger sister of Shawn, my boyfriend's best friend and Shawn and Cory are like brothers, so now Stuart and I are practically family."

Suddenly it occurs to me who they are talking about. "They wouldn't happen to be Morgan Matthews and Shawn Hunter would they?"

Stuart nods. "The very same."

I remember. "Yeah Eric mentioned something about Morgan having a boyfriend, but he didn't say his name and you and Shawn-"I say to Katy and joke. "I always figured that him and Cory-"

"-Yeah I think we all lost money on that bet," Stuart teases back.

"Now you see why it doesn't surprise me that you know that circle too?" Katy asks. "Now excuse me boys, nature calls and I have to answer."

"Classy," Stuart teases as she walks away. Katy laughs and rolls her eyes.

Stuart nods in the direction that Katy exited. "Katy was the first person I met when I came to this group. She has been very supportive and was one of the few people I knew that understood what it was like to have an abusive spouse. When I first came here, I felt how you probably feel right now like someone-"

"-Who comes across as a real smartass?" I ask.

"-Well I was going to say chip on his shoulder," Stuart reasons. "But your phrase works too. I felt like I didn't belong, always challenging everyone who asked if something was wrong, trying to be intelligent and strong and acting like I knew everything when the truth is I don't know anything at all."

I realize that Stuart Minkus and I have a lot more in common than I ever thought. "I must admit you aren't like I thought."

"You thought maybe my butler or my personal assistant would be at this group instead of me?" Stuart says wryly. I shrug and he continues. "No, they're not. Actually it's their day off." He smiles and I know he's teasing. "I don't think that kind of thing matters if we have been through something like this. You still feel the isolation, the worthlessness believing what your spouse says about you, the desire to protect the kids, and the weight of the walls that you put around yourself even long after the marriage ended. Katy helped guide me through this process and I want to do the same for someone else."

"Thanks," I say shaking Minkus' hand. It's nice to be able to trust others again. I spent so much time dealing with all of my troubles alone that I'm not even sure that I have the ability to be sociable again, but so far it's working.

After I lost my job, I knew it would be a matter of time before we got evicted. It took over a month, but after I brought the kids home from school and spent a fruitless day job searching, we found our stuff outside the hallway.

"What's all our stuff doing out here?" Annie asked.

"It means we don't live here anymore, stupid," Justin said angrily.

"Daddy," Annie whined.

"Justin don't call your sister stupid," I corrected. They both look terrified and I held them close to me. "It's okay, kids. We'll find another place okay? We're just going to have to do without some things."

"Like what?" Justin asked doubtfully.

I picked up the kids' schoolbags and an extra backpack. "Here let's gather some things together. Take only what you can carry and we can fit in the car. It's like um we're camping or having an adventure or something." I tried to be cheerful about this but I could tell they weren't any more convinced than I was.

We picked up only what we could put in the backpacks, important documents that I needed, change of clothes, blankets, pillows, and a couple of toys each for the kids. I took my cell phone, laptop, and some other things that I could pawn and we left.

For a time, I collected unemployment and used the money that I pawned my items for which didn't last long. We lived in various apartments going from one place to another. Unfortunately, thanks to budgetary problems the "great" state of California cut Unemployment Insurance including mine, after less than a year, so the kids and I ended up living on almost nothing but my savings.

I went to various employment agencies and job interviews but never got the job. I kept going over in my head what I must have been doing wrong. Was my suit not pressed enough? Did I talk too fast or not enough? Did I not research the company well enough? Did they Google my name and find some embarrassing information about me (I didn't see how I was never a big social media person)? I never understood what they didn't see in me. I kept telling myself that they had their reasons and that I could learn from it for the next resume sending and interview receiving. Ironically these were things that I kept telling Desiree when she didn't get acting roles ("They were related to someone." "You were just the wrong type." "You'll find another one."). I guess you pay for everything in life and no matter what you do, it comes back on you.

I kept envisioning the person who got the job, some tall blond handsome WASPy guy in his early '20s fresh out of grad school who was smarter, more experienced, and more eloquent than me. How could I compete with this invisible rival? He would always be better than I am. Even despite my doubts, I continued to apply for jobs knowing that Justin and Annabelle kept me going.

Eventually I found a part-time job as a buser and dishwasher at a Skid Row diner called not-so cleverly, Hit The Skids. (The quality of the cuisine and ambience was every bit as one could imagine with a name like that). My job paid minimum wage and with cost of living being what it was, I certainly couldn't afford to get us out of homelessness yet but I managed to put gas in the car and pay for food. I don't even know that they cared who I was or my experience. They just needed a warm body to do the job, but it was the only thing that I could do for a living. It paid and I was able to work while the kids were in school. On the weekends or during the summer, sometimes they waited either inside the diner booths or outside the diner all day for my shift to get finished.

I picked up the kids from school. I was insistent that my kids remained in school, partly because of the Free Lunch Program, they at least had one free square meal but also because they could make something of their lives with an education. If I never made it out of homelessness, then they would. I was as strict as I could be about attendance, though I sometimes surrendered if they were too sick especially towards the end.

After school and I finished my shift, we rode around in my car finding places to eat or parking lots to sleep in for the night. More often than not, I left the car outside the diner and we slept there for the night. After a couple of months, the car started having transmission trouble. I knew that it was falling apart, it wasn't new when I got it. Finally it wouldn't start. It just stalled behind the diner. Floyd, my boss warned me that if I didn't move the car then it would be towed. I apologized but said that I couldn't do anything about it for now because I couldn't afford to get it fixed.

One day Justin, Annie, and I came back from school to find the car gone along with our backpacks, extra clothes, our papers including my driver's license, their birth certificates, and the divorce papers granting me sole custody, (yes I know what an idiot I was to put those documents in the car). Also, some cash I put in the glove compartment for emergencies. Worse it was at least another week before pay day and we had very little in the bank until then.

As my boss said, the car had been towed. I pounded the walls with my fists and screamed, "GODDAMMITT!" out loud. Both Justin and Annie stepped back terrified that their Daddy was out of control. I calmed down when I saw the tears in their eyes. "Justin, Annie, I'm sorry guys," I pulled them closer to me and scooped them into a hug. "I'm just so mad right now and so tired. But we're going to be okay. Everything will be fine, trust me, everything will be okay." We lived through that week by borrowing money from my co-workers and scavenging for food, which consists of picking up uneaten portions from sidewalk cafes, dumpsters, the ground, and from the diner itself.

All of my memories after that became street memories. I just lived from day to day, hour to hour doing everything that I could to keep my kids and myself safe. Remember that movie, Pursuit of Happyness with Will Smith (It's now one of my favorites because I relate so much to it)? There were situations that were a lot like that. I remember us riding the bus line all night just so we would be over a roof and they could sleep in one place.

We also came to homeless shelters that could not admit any more people after a certain time of night or wouldn't take us because they admitted single men but no children or single mothers with children, but not single fathers with children. Apparently, like abused husbands, single fathers having sole custody of their kids don't exist.

I remember many people were suspicious even hostile over the fact that I was a single father. Some shelters refused to admit us since I no longer had documentation to prove that they were my children. Some people asked questions like "Where's their Mama at?" as though Desiree was waiting just outside with milk and cookies to give her kids a warm nurturing touch with tinkly music playing in the background. Some would be condescending saying "it's nice that a father is so involved with raising his children" as if the kids were usually elsewhere and I was just the unpaid babysitter.

What really got to me was one incident at the diner. Because Floyd was shorthanded, I waited tables as well as my usual busing and dish washing duties. I served two women. After I gave them their food and wiped off another table, one of the women described two children standing outside the diner looking dirty and ragged (Justin and Annie waited for me). Her friend said, "You know their daddy is some drug addict deadbeat or some welfare bum!"

The other woman nodded as I tried to hide my annoyance about their conversation. Instead, I threw the diner dishes in the tray making the sound louder than it usually was. The woman agreed with her friend. "Their Mama is probably somewhere working her fingers to the bone looking after her babies while their Daddy done ran off. That poor woman involved with some loser who pregnanted her and ditched her and of course he leaves those poor little ones in the condition they're in, poor, homeless, little things! What kind of father is he?"

I slammed the tray down as the soap water splashed the table and my shirt. I knew that I would have to reclean the table. I walked up to the women, "Or maybe their Mama is in Atlanta with her 56-year-old sugar daddy and their Daddy just gave you your food and will soon be washing your dishes! If I were you, I wouldn't gossip about things I didn't know about!"

The woman looked at me in silence then they stood up. "I am never coming back here," one said. "You're being rude!" They paid for their meal and left but not before one of the women muttered to the other, "He probably only has them on the weekends anyway."

Floyd saw the argument and he would have fired me but since we were in the lunch rush and he needed everyone to work, he didn't bother. He just gave me a warning. I cleaned the women's table and noticed that they didn't leave a tip (What nothing for the deadbeat?). I just cleaned up after them.

Life was hard for us. We spent about two years homeless. There were dark times. Originally, we took the bus but when money dwindled, we walked across Skid Row for places to sleep. If we couldn't find a shelter, the three of us slept anywhere I could find, cheap motels, bus depots, restrooms, park benches. I would dumpster dive to find anything that we needed, particularly clothes, blankets, and sometimes toys for the kids. Since we now wore only the clothes on our backs and occasionally a few I found dumpster diving, I washed the clothes in the sinks, if there were any, rather than pay for the laundry facilities. When we had access to baths and showers I made sure that we used them, but often times we used the public restrooms to brush our teeth, to go, for me to shave, and for the kids and I to wash up using paper towels.

I'm no boy scout. I had to steal to feed my kids. Sometimes I picked wallets, lifted purses from peoples' shoulders or waists, robbed tourists while pretending to give them directions, or dipped, which is picking pockets in crowded places like bars or in lines outside nightclubs. I'm not proud of it, but I silenced my guilty conscience by reminding that I was doing this for Justin and Annie. In fact the only reason that I didn't resort to bigger crimes like robbing convenience stores, breaking into houses, or selling drugs or my body was the ever present fear that if I were caught and arrested, my children would be left on their own.

Often, we ended up sleeping on the streets, under a bridge or in an alleyway. I lit matches over cardboard boxes and old newspapers to create a fire and let the kids sit in front so they could be warm. I then laid down an old overcoat that I found in the dumpster and wrapped the kids up as a blanket. Then I would lay between Justin and Annie. I held them tightly as the three of us huddled together all night. I couldn't protect them with anything but my seemingly all-powerful Daddyness.

We were surrounded by drugs, gang violence, and quite often death. I tried my best to keep them from all of these things, but you can't when it's all around you. All I could do is hold them, shield them from danger, wipe away their frightened tears and answer any questions that they had. Sometimes I tried to lull the kids asleep despite the sounds of nearby gunshots, emergency vehicle sirens, drunks yelling, prostitutes and their johns or drug dealers and their buyers doing their transactions, or violent verbal arguments. I sat over them and never slept but a few minutes here and there at night, always wary and keeping watch for anyone who would hurt my kids. I consider it a miracle that we survived living on Skid Row at all.

I remember one night we were huddled under a bridge when some bum looked at the kids and said drunkenly, "Hey Munchkins, where's your mama?" Neither Annie nor Justin answered so he continued. I could smell the booze around him. "How would you like me to be your Mama? Why don't you come with me?"

I didn't like the leering way he spoke and certainly didn't like the way he stared at my children especially Annie or licked his lips. He reached out for my daughter and she drew back in fear and gave a little scream. I stood between the man and my daughter and even though he was twice my size I grabbed at him. I didn't have a weapon, but there must have been something fierce and deadly in my voice, because all I did was hiss, "Leave my children alone," at him and he walked away. I then settled down and held my kids tighter.

Another time, I put out the diner trash, as a large crowd had gathered outside the Cecil Hotel, a hotel that was just down the block from where I worked and that I considered checking us into. I asked someone what was going on and he answered. "They found some dead girl inside the water tanks. I guess she had been missing for months."

I should have been shocked or felt badly about her, but I think by then I was so jaded by darkness that I think I said something like, "Perhaps she didn't think life was worth living," and returned to work just relieved that the three of us didn't stay at the Cecil after all.

The kids dealt with that life differently. Annie was certainly the more vocal. With her dark curly hair and porcelain pale skin, she looks a lot like her mother did at that age and probably behaved like she did as well. She wasn't spoiled like Desiree, but she was very emotional. She came back from school in tears saying other girls picked on her and called her Raggedy Annie because her hair was smelly or she wore the same clothes for days. Often times, she got upset at the shelters, yelled and cried, said that she hated it there and asked why we couldn't live in a "real house." When we had to move again, she stubbornly sat with her arms folded until I had to pick her up and forcibly remove her from the shelter.

She wanted to wear pretty clothes or lingered at the toy store saying that she wanted the dolls there. She never threw tantrums, but she asked plenty of questions about why we couldn't have them or she would cry. I tried to be as firm as I could be, correcting her by saying, "Annabelle, that's enough!" But the truth was she was simply behaving like how a small child would be when her world is falling apart around her. She was also reacting to our situation sometimes how I wanted to. In some ways, I respected Annie for bringing out the emotions that Justin and myself couldn't. She was expressing our anger and our tears.

Justin however was different. He looks more like me with short dark hair and that cynical look, but he inherited his mother's height thank goodness (He's already coming up to my elbows). He is quite a smart kid, smarter I would say than I am. He sails through school when I used to struggle with lessons so he followed the news and understood as much as a kid his age could. If Annie would ask why she couldn't have a certain toy, Justin would quote from new reports about unemployment statistics but would speak in a way that Annie understood and explained that too many people were out of work like Daddy and that it may be awhile before Daddy has enough money to get fun things again.

He was also very quiet. He never said very much and only spoke if he was spoken to. He just observed our situation taking each move with a silent acceptance that still makes me ache. I once asked him why he did this and he said, "There isn't anything I can do Daddy, so I figured if I make myself as invisible as possible then maybe it won't hurt as much." Justin also has been my rock. He has been really good at taking care of his little sister, watching her while I'm at work or playing with her to cheer her up. He has matured too much in this life, much more than any kid his age should have a right to. What would I do without either of them?

There weren't many good memories, but we had them. Sometimes I helped the kids with their homework quizzing them on things like multiplication tables, states and capitals, or spelling words or practicing writing letters or drawing pictures. I listened to Justin read out loud from his schoolbooks while I braided Annie's hair. Those little relaxing moments made our problems go away for at least a few minutes and helped us to feel like a regular family and not just a homeless one.

I also remember Chanukah. While I couldn't do anything for their birthdays, I was determined to make at least one Chanukah a good time. We spent the nights in a fleabag motel and even though I didn't have a menorah, I made do with used birthday candles that I lit as I explained the story of the Maccabees. I lit the birthday candles, one for each of the 8 days.

The three of us blew out the candles and on the last day, I gave them their presents. I found an old Reading text book for Justin at a free book give-away at one of the libraries. It had some short stories, poems, essays, and excerpts from novels. I also found a doll for Annie inside a factory dumpster. It had slightly singed blond hair and wore a ragged denim dress.

I thought the kids wouldn't be happy with their gifts, but when they opened the plastic bags you would have thought that they won the lottery. They both hugged me excitedly and yelled, "Thank you Daddy!" I laughed and accepted their thanks. Even though we are much better off, Justin still reads from that book and Annie still sleeps with that doll, which she calls Emily.

The biggest surprise was theirs for me. The day before, I had given them $2.00 each to spend on whatever they wanted. Since I often didn't have extra money, I thought that for once they could indulge themselves a little. I was more surprised when instead of showing me what they bought, they handed me a plastic bag. I opened it to see a pair of shoe inserts.

Justin explained. "You are always rubbing your feet, so we knew that your feet hurt." I nodded reluctantly. I tried to keep any of my pain from them, but being on my feet all day washing dishes then often walking around the streets was hard on them and my back. When we did find a bed, I took off my shoes and rubbed my aching feet. Sometimes the kids offered to rub them for me, even though I teased them saying they wouldn't want to because my feet stink. They each rubbed one foot and practically turned the rubbing into a race to see who could get it done faster and provide the most comfort.

"We decided to use our money to get you something Daddy," Justin said. They explained that the inserts cost $3.50 so they got each other a toy from the $0.25 machines in front of the store. Justin got Annie a plastic pink ring and Annie got her brother a plastic black spider.

"It was my idea," Annie interjected wanting to be the one in charge. Well what could I say to that except thanks? I put them inside my shoes and hugged my children tightly.

We were barely hanging on, but we hadn't yet hit the bottom until I lost my job at the diner. Food had become scarce for us so I picked up scraps while scavenging, particularly from the diner that customers left behind on their plates, a roll here, and some soup there, sometimes fruit or something. I kept the food and gave them to the kids as they waited behind the diner. If anything was left over (and there almost never was anything left over), I would eat. Even though Justin broke apart his half into another piece I told him, "It's alright, Jus, you take it. I already ate earlier." I made sure that my kids would not starve even if it meant that I had to.

Floyd started to become suspicious about the disappearing food, even though it was meant to be thrown out regardless of whether the customers finished it or not. He caught me standing outside giving two rolls to the kids. He fired me there on the spot right in front of my children.

With no job, no money there wasn't much hope. I kept as brave a front as I could, but it was cracking. It cracked further as my children became sick. Justin was having trouble concentrating in school, certainly because of the anxieties and the lack of food, but he was beginning to have vision problems. He would need glasses and I couldn't afford them. Annie was having throat problems and developed a cough. She had also become listless and barely spoke without crying. She got tired easily, so I lifted her up and carried her when we had to walk. They didn't want to go to school, and I was too tired and sore from my hurt feet and back to argue with them about it. Nothing seemed to matter anymore except keeping them alive.

One night, the three of us barely staggered to a shelter. I had already carried Annie. Justin trailed further behind and I asked him if he needed me to carry him as well. "I'll be okay, Daddy," Justin said sounding almost dead. But within a few blocks, I picked him up as well. They both felt warm and were so thin that I could wrap my fingers around their waists. My children were sick and I knew that if I didn't turn things around for them, they might die. I could no longer protect them with my Daddyness. In fact my all-powerful Daddyness failed them.

My legs felt like blocks and I was so exhausted by the time I reached the New Hope Homeless Shelter that I wanted to collapse on the streets, but I rapped on the door.

The shelter director, a tall African-American woman, looked at me. Before she could say anything, I interrupted her, "Listen I don't care if it's after admission hours or if you don't have any room, or if I violate some rules that you have because I'm a single man with children, but I can't go any further and my children are sick. We need a place to sleep just for the night. We'll sleep on the floor if we have to."

The woman, Mrs. Reynolds, pulled me closer and held me by the shoulder. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to fall down, but Mrs. Reynolds' hold gave me some balance. "Calm down, sir, it's alright. You may stay here," She said and relieved the children from my arms.

The three of us shared one bed but it was better than where we had been sleeping so neither the children nor I complained. I settled Justin and Annie in for the night, tucking them under the blanket and softened their pillow. The two had already fallen asleep, Annie with her head on her big brother's chest and Justin with one arm draped around his little sister. They were both flushed and I could see their sunken cheeks. My children were sick, starving, and homeless. They almost looked like those demon kids, Ignorance and Want, in the Christmas Carol. They could die from all of this and it would be my fault. What kind of father was I to let them live this life of poverty and misery?

I lowered the pillow right in front of their faces and my thoughts still haunt me to this day: I thought about suffocating them with the pillow. I might have done it too, if Justin hadn't woken up and looked at me with wide eyes. He must have seen the tears in my eyes because he asked, "Daddy what's wrong?"

I lowered the pillow and gently lifted my still sleeping daughter's head. I lay the pillow

back on the bed as the kids lay on top of it. "Nothing, Justin," I said knowing that I could never kill my own children no matter what we were going through. I would rather kill myself. "Just go back to sleep," I whispered to my son as I ruffled his hair. I gave both him and Annie good-night kisses and lay next to them.

I didn't sleep well, so I woke up early the next morning. My sick children lay next to me, so I sidled myself out of their grasp and walked to the front office. "May I borrow your phone and the Yellow Pages please?" I asked. Mrs. Reynolds handed me the phone book and phone. I looked for the number of the Department of Family Services, wondering if maybe my kids would be better off cared for by someone else, someone with a job and a house who could give them books to read, toys to play with, new clothes to wear, comfortable beds to sleep in, good food to eat, and wouldn't consider ending their lives. I mechanically dialed the number and a voice answered, "Hello, Department of Family Services." I slammed the phone down on the receiver unable to complete the call.

I lay my head on the phone, defeated. Mrs. Reynolds put her hand on top of my head and said, "God is always looking out for us and he won't abandon you now."

I lifted my head and said wearily. "I haven't been to Temple in years. I don't think he's listening."

"He's with you every step of the way just carrying you along," Mrs. Reynolds said "He'll find a way to get you through this. Just don't give up." In the back of my mind, I thought I heard a familiar voice in my head telling me the same thing.

I couldn't find anything else to say, but out of the corner of my eye I could see that the TV was on. A familiar face had looked out at me from the screen. I thought how much the guy on TV looked like my old high school buddy Eric Matthews. Then I read the screen crawl, "New York Senator Eric Matthews Begins Term; Former small town Mayor was 'Unlikely Candidate.'"

My eyes widened as I asked Mrs. Reynolds to turn up the TV. The news report mentioned how Eric was the mayor of a small town in upstate New York called St. Upid Town and had been considered the least likely candidate for senator. His campaign was odd since his campaign managers were four middle school students but his platform was education and children's care so to me it made sense. Despite the odds, he won.

I shook my head not believing that my former best friend was now a senator. "Maybe, it's a different Eric Matthews," I said out loud. When I saw footage of his inauguration where in his speech thanked everyone who supported him like his friends, family, young campaign managers, and Mr. "Fee-hee-hee-nay" I knew he was the same Eric Matthews. Almost as though my fingers lived to themselves, I dialed information and then asked for Washington D.C.

When I finally got Senator Eric Matthews' contact information, I heard a young quiet voice saying, "You have reached the voice mail of T.J. Murphy, aide to Senator Matthews. I am either on another line or away from my desk but if you leave your name, number, and a detailed message. I will make sure that Senator Matthews receives it."

I waited for the beep and I blurted out. "Hi, I'm trying to reach Eric-uh Senator Matthews. Eric, I don't know if you remember me but I'm Jason Marsden, we were in school together. Well, things are pretty bad. You remember Desiree? Well we're divorced and I have two children. I'm unemployed and broke, and we're homeless! We're at the New Hope Homeless shelter in Skid Row, Downtown Los Angeles! I'm not asking for money or anything, I just needed to talk." I mumbled the phone number for the shelter. I then said, "You know what, Eric? Never mind just forget it, forget I ever called." I hung up returned to Justin and Annie who were still asleep. I lay with my arms around them and buried my head on the mattress not wanting my children to see my tears.

Author's Notes: Many of Jason's experiences of job searching and his constant fear of why he didn't get the job (including creating an "invisible perfect rival") were based on my real-life job searching experiences. The longer you wait between losing a job and finding another one, the more those fears multiply believe me. Luckily, like Jason my own job searching troubles are over.

The dead girl found in the Cecil Hotel is implied to be Elisa Lam, a real-life victim of a mysterious death. She had been reported missing for several days and her body was found inside the hotel's water tanks after residents reported bad off-color drinking water. Surveillance video footage exists of Lam inside the Cecil elevator behaving very erratically, looking around as if being followed, and arguing with someone who cannot be seen on the camera. Theories have ranged from murder, to suicide, to death by supernatural means. While authorities have determined her cause of death to be an accident, no one knows how she got in the tank in the first place since it could only be accessed by staff and would have been difficult for her to get inside on her own. So the

case is still considered unsolved.