Page 66 of Gone Tonight
I passed by the big plate-glass window at the front entrance. It was completely dark outside now and the streets were quieter. The city was winding down.
I knew I should leave and find a place to stay. But I couldn’t bring myself to walk out of this safe, tidy store.
I kept staring at things I’d taken for granted most of my life: paper towels and Pop-Tarts and emery boards and Tampax. How was I ever going to manage on my own?
A bell sounded, and a voice came over the loudspeaker announcing the store would close in fifteen minutes. A guy wearing a red vest and name tag passed me, heading toward the back. Maybe he was going to lock up. He’d probably loop back around this way again and tell me I needed to check out.
Tears filled my eyes as my chest constricted. I couldn’t do this. There was no way I could live on the street, even for one night. I wasn’t strong enough.
When the employee returned, I’d ask him to call my dad. My father would try to help me. He’d beg my mother’s family to hire a lawyer, a good one. He and Timmy would write me letters when I had to go to jail or to a juvenile detention facility.
I wiped my eyes and when my line of vision cleared, I was still looking at the row of blue Tampax boxes.
It hit me like a bolt of lightning.
I hadn’t thought to pack any Tampax in my duffle bag. I hadn’t needed any in quite a while.
Over a month.
As I stood there dumbly, my mind so shocked it felt blank, the bell sounded again. This time the voice on the loudspeaker said the store was closing in five minutes. Any remaining customers should check out immediately.
I looked around wildly. There was a circular rack of clothing nearby.
I saw Timmy again, hiding almost in plain sight beneath the round shrub as I called, Ollie-ollie-in-come-free.
Without another thought, I bent down and crawled into the center of the ring of clothes, pulling in my duffle bag behind me.
All I could hear was my own breathing, ragged and too loud. I couldn’t see anything but the pairs of pants hung together in front of me. I curled up as tightly as possible, hoping no part of me was sticking out.
Three simple words kept running through my head: I am pregnant.
They didn’t make sense yet. I didn’t know that they would mean you.
A final announcement sounded. The store was now closed.
It was quiet for a moment. Then, in the distance, laughter broke out. I heard a man and woman conversing, his tone deep and slow and hers higher and crisper. Their words were muffled. I squeezed my eyes shut.
A few minutes later, someone walked past my hiding spot, their shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor. I held my breath until the footsteps receded. Then I couldn’t hear anything at all for a little while. The silence was almost unbearable. I kept expecting someone to reach in and grab me.
I finally heard voices again, but they seemed farther away now. I couldn’t tell how many people were talking. Two, maybe three?
The lights cut out, plunging me into complete darkness.
I felt a scream rise in my throat. I covered my mouth with my hand and rocked back and forth, like the woman on the Greyhound bus.
The store was utterly quiet.
After a few moments, though, something remarkable happened: My eyes adjusted. I couldn’t see well, but I could make out the outline of my duffle bag, and the stripes on my sneakers, and when I glanced up, I could spot the demarcation line between the top of the circular rack and the space beyond it.
My racing heartbeat began to slow.
I forced myself to count slowly to one hundred, two hundred, five hundred. Then to a thousand.
I strained to listen, but I couldn’t hear a thing to indicate a singleemployee remained in the store. If someone else were here, they would have kept on the lights, I told myself.
But it took a long time before I found the courage to unfold my aching limbs and crawl out of the clothing rack. I left my duffle bag behind in case I needed to jump back in quickly.
Target looked completely different at night. There were two red exit signs with glowing arrows overhead that provided a tiny bit of illumination, and a few dim safety lights near the front entrance of the store. I stood stock-still, my breath caught in my lungs, but I couldn’t detect another presence. I seemed to be all alone in the giant store.
