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I was bruised and battered
I couldn't tell what I felt
I was unrecognizable to myself
Saw my reflection in the window
Didn't know my own face
Oh brother, are you gonna leave me
Wasting away
On the streets of Philadelphia
"The Streets of Philadelphia, Bruce Springsteen
One Year Later
"Tootie, Mrs. Garrett!" Natalie Green couldn't wait to share the news with her best friend and her second mom.
"In the living room, Nat", Dorothy Ramsey, nicknamed Tootie, yelled a little too loud, making Edna Garrett, fondly known as Mrs. G, star daggers at her.
"You guys, they hired me!"
"Oh, my God, Nat! You mean the Denver Post?" Tootie was on her feet.
Natalie was only a Sophomore at Langley College in Peekskill, New York, but even though she was two years from graduating, she had sent out copies of her work to newspapers around the country. She was always hoping to get a job, and then to finish her education.
"Yes!" Natalie danced happily around the room, Tootie behind her, acting like they did years ago when they were little girls starting out at Eastland.
"Natalie, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Garrett finally corralled her and gave her a big hug. "I'm so proud of you!"
"When are you gonna start?" Tootie always asked the obvious questions.
"In October", Natalie confirmed. "They want me to finish the school year, then I'll head on out there. They want me to enroll at the University of Denver, which has an excellent Journalism program, and get my degree there in a few years, but they want me this fall."
"Any idea what they'll be having you doing, Natalie?"
Natalie finally calmed down, sitting next to Mrs. Garrett on the sofa. "They want me to be doing human interests story, mostly in the Denver area, and perhaps going to other cities as well. I've already talked to my editor, and told him that one of the first stories I want to dig in is the homeless crisis, not just in Denver, but in the nation as a whole."
"That's pretty ambitious", Mrs. Garrett said with admiration. "I would doubt you'd be the only one on the story?"
"No, if it goes through, I'll be part of a larger effort, with more senior reporters working on it as well, but the editor loved the idea."
"Something that hits close to home", Tootie said softly.
The other two women sadly nodded, coming down from the high of the news.
It was now four years since one of their best friends, Jo Polniaczek, had vanished into thin air, after her family had disowned her for being a lesbian. They had cut Jo off from them, her neighborhood, and even her Church, leaving a desperate Jo with the thought that the only answer was to disappear.
The biggest reason she had vanished, however, wasn't her family, although that played a large role in her decision. The biggest reason is that Jo had fallen in love with her long-time roommate, best friend, and sometimes best pain-in-the-ass, Blair Warner, the heiress to the Warner International Corporation, and the Warner family. It had gotten to the point, especially after her family turned their backs on her, that she simply didn't think she could live with Blair any longer without ruining their friendship.
"I've been wanting to do this, not just for Jo and for us, but for everyone who has had a family member run away because of one thing or another. Maybe if I'm lucky, it will lead me to Jo."
Phoenix, Arizona
It was almost time for Jo to move on again. For the past four years, every four to six months, Jo would pack what little she had, and move on to another city, not daring to stay in one place very long. She had been in Phoenix long enough, and as the scorching hot summer approached, she would be looking for more hospitable climates. San Diego was on her mind.
She was still at around one hundred pounds, still skin and bones, still wondering what the hell she was doing, but knowing, at least in hear long-destroyed heart, that she couldn't go back. Not any more.
She was certain by now that Blair had moved beyond mourning the loss of her best friend, same with Natalie and Tootie. To make sure her heart didn't break, she never read any newspapers, knowing it was possible that Blair's name would show up on the gossip circuit, being the daughter of a corporate mogul and billionaire.
I'm sure Blair's found a guy who treats like she deserves, Jo thought to herself, between large swigs of whiskey, which helped her pass the time and deaden her emotions. She deserves to be treated like a Princess. But God, I'll always love her.
"Hey kid", a fellow squatter said to her, "what are youse mumbling about over there?"
Jo looked over at the older man, who had a long reddish beard, obviously a grizzled veteran of a hobo's life. "None of your beeswax", she said in reply, her old Bronx accent appearing. "Mind your own business."
"You know, I ain't seen you around these parts, lady", the man said with an edge to his voice. "You new here?"
"I don't stay around long enough to be new anywhere, pal. Just blow off."
Jo had argued with guys and gals like this before since her exile. It had sometimes ended in a mild fight, but nothing Jo Polniaczek couldn't handle. The old geezer stood up, Jo's eyes widening a bit seeing that this guy was very tall, and he looked pissed.
"No young bitch talks to me like that, girlie. You need to mind your manners."
Jo laughed. "I'm in the middle of a fucking dump, barely alive, and you're worried about manners? You're an idiot."
Before Jo realized anything else, the guy was on top of her, wailing away on her, pulling her up onto her feet. He landed several hard blows to her head, letting her hit the ground with a thud, then he kicked her several times in the ribs, Jo moaning in agony.
Despite the beating, she continued to mock him. "You talk about manners, then you go fucking beating up a girl. Yeah, some manners."
As she was turning her head to laugh at him, the man's boot caught Jo square in the back of the head, her world going dark.
_
Waking up a few hours later, probably with a concussion, Jo was grateful she had stashed her now-rundown purse at her little dwelling a few blocks away. Unfortunately, he booze was gone, as was her syringe and he small stash of heroin. The former she could get almost any time-cheap booze was easy to come by, but if she didn't get a new syringe, needles, and a fix pretty soon...
She had never gone through withdrawal since she started shooting heroin. She had started two years earlier, after getting extremely drunk one night. She was lucky it didn't kill her, but once the effects of heroin grabbed most individuals, they didn't want to let it go. Yet she had witnessed someone going through withdrawal, and it wasn't pretty. She'd rather not go through that particular hell, although when Jo stopped to think of the hell she had been in for four years now, maybe simply stopping cold turkey would be a small price.
Unfortunately, for most people, their mind didn't work that way once they started down the path of addiction. Desperation drove one to ridiculous depths that, in a normal life, one would never even contemplate. Within a few hours, Jo had a new syringe, a box of needles, and a supply of heroin to last her for a while.
Three days later, after the effects of her beating began to subside, she boarded a bus for San Diego.
December, Denver
Natalie Green was several months into her assignment with the Denver Post as human interest writer. The Managing Editor who had hired her insisted she finish her degree, but had been so impressed with her writing skills that she had offered Natalie a job at the end of her Sophomore year at Langley College in New York. Natalie was being eased into her role, more often than not, teaming up with a more experienced journalist to help hone her craft.
The Managing Editor, Rachel Schofield, had never worked for any other place but the Denver Post, starting at the very bottom some twenty-five years earlier, and working her way up, until, with the exception of the owner of the paper, she was the top of the pyramid. Like Natalie, she had started as a writer, and recognized a little of herself in the young New Yorker.
Natalie was just finishing up for the day, when The Boss dropped in.
"Mrs. Schofield", Natalie said, coming to her feet in a sign of respect.
Rachel smiled. "I'm not the President of the United States, Natalie. You don't need to rise when I enter. A bow will do."
Natalie snorted an un-ladylike laugh. "I'll learn to curtsy then, thanks."
"How's your piece on the model air show coming along?"
Natalie had never known that there was a boatload of people all over the world, that built model airplanes-not airplanes from little kits, but large, scale models of commercial jets, or fighter jets, that had actual working engines, flaps, and the like. Some of the models were worth upwards of $35,000. The largest RC (Radio-Controlled) aircraft in the world was a 1:13 scale Virgin Atlantic Airways Boeing 747-400. It had been the big draw at the recently completed Denver show.
"Should be finished up by tomorrow", Natalie informed her boss. As the low person on the totem pole, she had the job of putting it all together, then submitting it to Rachel for final approval. It was arduous work, but Natalie didn't mind.
"I've never had the chance to go out and see one of those shows, Nat. You sound pretty blown away by it."
"Well, yeah", Nat said, her eyes widening. "The RC fighter aircraft sound almost like the real thing. It's pretty freakin' cool."
Rachel laughed, then became serious. "I'm going to have a meeting with multiple departments in about two weeks. I want to finally pull the trigger on the series we want to do on the homeless situation."
"That's good", Natalie said quietly, the excitement in her voice gone for the moment.
"When you talked to me about that idea before I hired you, I could sense you had a personal interest in it."
"Very personal, Mrs. Schofield." Natalie spent the next twenty minutes giving her an account of Jo Polniaczek, and how to this day it hurt Natalie deeply.
"About a year ago, we thought she was dead. There was a body discovered in Dallas that matched a description of Jo, but...thankfully, at least for us, it wasn't her. I wish we knew if she were dead or alive, just to find some peace about it, you know?"
Rachel sadly nodded. Hearing Natalie's story, Rachel was more anxious to get going on the story. "I wonder, Natalie, when we really start getting this together, if you think it would be OK to have someone go back to New York, to interview your friends, and even Mrs. Garrett, as background on the story?"
"I think they'd be more than willing to do that, Mrs. Schofield", Natalie assured her. "I'm not sure about her family, or the Pastor at her Church, but I know Blair and Tootie would see it as a way to reach out to Jo."
"I'll work on arranging that", the boss said. "Part of me would love to send you, but that might be too emotional at this time."
"I think you're right", Natalie said unevenly. "Sorry, but even saying Jo's name is painful."
"I get it, Nat. I can't imagine it from a personal perspective. If we can help one homeless person, or their family, or their friends, then it's going to be worth the effort."
