Cracks
“Don’t step on the crack or you’ll break your mother’s back.” She could hear the echo of the school children’s silly rhyme as she stepped off one bus and looked on the map for the number of the next one she needed to get on. The elementary school had just released its students which meant it was afternoon—maybe 3 or 4. The time was not much of a concern—as long as she made it there before dark, she’d be ok. The stares were what bothered her. She had already taken three different busses since she had left that morning. The stares never changed, only the appearance of the people did. As she held her few possessions tighter to her chest and tried not to think about how much she was shaking from the brutally cold wind, the bus pulled into the bustling shopping center.

Life had not always been this way. Just a few months ago she awoke at 5 in the morning to get dressed for her prestigious job. When she was asked to be a partner, after years of working on State cases, she came to the conclusion that everything was changing for the better. She promised herself things would not get bad again—they simply couldn’t.

“You’re two dollars short Ma’am.” The bus driver has obviously been exposed to too much sun—either that or she had lay on the tanning bed more than a few minutes. Regardless of her appearance, the driver was right.
“This is all I have,” she said in a soft whisper. With an eye roll and a frown, the driver pointed her thumb to the back of the bus, where she hurried to, trying to find a seat.
Before she knew that she could go to school for an actual degree, she thought she would be cleaning windows at the diner for the rest of her life. It wasn’t until the professor that stopped in for a slice of blueberry pie and a cup of black coffee told her otherwise.
“You know you don’t have to work here. I teach at a school that’s not too far away. You could get a diploma and find a job that pays ten times what you’re making per hour.”
“That’s awful kind of you sir, but I’ve already graduated from high school and Mama said we can’t afford any schooling that costs.
“Tell you what. If you come to my class on Thursday morning at 10, and you like it, I will help you with the money.” With that he left, but had written down on a napkin his name, the building where the class would be held and his cell phone number. David Austin. She thought it was strange that he had a first name as his last name, but she was able to get out of work on Thursday and go to his class.
“Lady get off of me! This is my stop!”
She hadn’t realized that she had drifted off, or the fact that she was laying on a teenage boy’s shoulder, preventing him from being able to leave the bus. She couldn’t see out of the windows because the sun was so bright—which meant that dusk was approaching. There were still four stops left before she would be walking distance from her final destination.
The classroom was not very big—it was actually quite small. She thought for sure it would be some grand lecture hall since she knew that this was a private college, one that she thought for sure she could not afford. She slid into a desk quietly and took notes—the class was Introductory Criminology. Mr. Austin proved to be a good teacher, and she wanted more than anything to quit her job and be a full time student. She didn’t have the grades that she wanted to in high school only because of her job, but she was smart. After the other twenty or so students left and she began to put away the notes she took in a small bag that she carried with her, Mr. Austin asked her how she liked the class and if she wanted to get a bite to eat to talk. She hadn’t a clue why he was being so nice to her, but she took his offer, a mistake that she wished she could take back.
When he made up an excuse as to why they couldn’t eat in the school’s cafeteria and that they would be more comfortable in his house that was just a few blocks away, she didn’t see anything wrong with it. She thought that Mr. Austin was genuinely a nice person until he started patting her on the back and rubbing her shoulder. She started to feel a bit uncomfortable, but he promised her that he was only looking out for her best interests. But he wasn’t. She should have run yet her feet wouldn’t move—it was as if they were two bricks that were stuck together.
The problem wasn’t getting taken advantage of, but getting taken advantage of more than once. She let it happen over and over again in exchange for an education. It wasn’t worth it though. Giving up a relationship with her mother wasn’t worth it. The law degree wasn’t worth it. The 250 mile move wasn’t worth it. She thought she could live with the memories—she cut off all relations with David after three months. Through work at the cafeteria, she was able to pay for some of the tuition and she was able to squeak by barely with the savings she had from her days at the diner. It wasn’t until she was an official partner at the firm that she realized she could not deal with the depression from her encounters with that horrid man and when the situation was brought to court, lost the lawsuit, along with every last belonging she owned. Nothing was worth it.
“Final Stop.”
Still clinging on to the parcels that she boarded the bus with, she stepped down the steep steps and tried to fix her knotted hair in the reflection of the siding of the bus before it pulled away. Her appearance was sloppy, but what else could she do to improve it? Walking over the cracks on the sidewalk she made two right turns and one left and as she entered the establishment, a familiar bell rang. A woman came out of the back covered in grease and greeted her without looking up. When she didn’t say anything to the woman’s greeting, the woman looked up, and the two made eye contact.
‘Mama I’m so sorry I took Thursday off.”