It's Only Temporary

Chapter 21: A Few Hours Before Dawn

Penny sat in the corner of the hard plastic subway bench, hugging her knees to her chest. She had tucked her legs inside the oversized sweatshirt so that only the tips of her green canvas sneakers peeked out at the bottom. At least she still had the sweatshirt to help ward off the chill from the subway car's overzealous air-conditioning system. It was about all she had at this point - aside from her Metrocard and a hundred dollars cash from the night's tips.

She leaned against the metal railing beside her. Hard and cold. Not exactly where she had planned to lay her head for the night. She briefly considered balling up the sweatshirt and using it for a pillow, but she couldn't do that. She had nothing on beneath it except a tropical-print bikini top.

It was only a few more hours until dawn, she told herself. Just a few more hours. And then... what, exactly? Slink back to Greg's apartment and try to make nice?

No.

No way.

He could go to hell. She'd sooner sleep outside on the sidewalk.

How had she not seen it coming? Honestly, of all people to turn to for help? Greg? The ex-boyfriend who cheated on her and cast her out on the street with no warning once before. How had she managed to convince herself that it was a good idea to crash with Greg?

Everything had seemed fine until tonight. She'd been staying with him for a few weeks now, and they'd fallen back into an easy companionship. He didn't have a lot of time for chit-chat with his study schedule, but he'd been friendly enough. Asked how she liked the waitress job... how her MCAT studies were going.... Never once asked how much longer she intended to stick around in his living room. He even let her mooch off his stash of frozen pizza and ramen noodles so she didn't have to waste her hard-earned tips on food.

"That's what friends are for," he'd said, whenever she tried to thank him for his hospitality. He'd been a friend. He'd been nothing but supportive.

Until tonight.

He'd said that he had to study tonight. She hadn't expected it, when she looked across the bar toward the end of her shift and saw him weaving his way in her direction. He had a bottle of Corona in his hand, and she could tell from the way he walked that he was tipsy. Greg, the six-foot-five, 250 pound former stalwart of the Princeton Tigers offensive line - not exactly a lightweight. He must have started early.

"Penny!" He'd come over to the table she was wiping down and draped an arm around her bare shoulders. "Just the friendly cocktail waitress I was hoping to see."

"Looks like you already found one," Penny replied. She shrugged his arm off her shoulders and pointed to the beer in his hand. "Shouldn't you be studying?"

"Come on! Let's celebrate!"

"Greg, I'm working."

"Your shift's almost done, right?"

"What are we celebrating?"

"The fact that I'm not studying," he said, raising his beer bottle in a toast. "Anatomy exam postponed a week!"

He took a swig of his beer and didn't even attempt to conceal the way he was looking down at her cleavage. She pretended not to notice. He was drunk, she told herself. That's all. She pulled out a chair for him to sit. "I'm on until 2 AM tonight."

He drained the last remnants of his drink and handed her the empty bottle. "I'll wait," he said. "And I'll take another one of these."

"You don't think you've had enough already?"

He grinned at her and grabbed her by the forearm, pulling her off balance. She landed awkwardly in his lap. "Ow! What are you doing?" She pushed against his chest, but didn't seem to notice or care. His arm only tightened around her waist.

"Damn, you look good in a bikini." His words were starting to slur.

She hadn't wanted to raise her voice and make a scene. "Greg, let go of me," she hissed. "Don't make me call over the bouncers."

"Bouncers?" His face had darkened as she struggled to pry his arm away from her. "What the hell, Pen?"

"Listen, I'll have a drink with you when I get off work, but that's it--"

"I let you stay in my apartment for a month!"

So much for: "that's what friends are for." So much for rent-free accommodations. No such thing. She should have known better. There was always a price, and tonight the bill had come due.

Like hell was she going to pay, Penny thought. It boggled her mind now to think that she had once called that oversized orangutan her boyfriend. She used to take it as a compliment when he leered at her body and grabbed her with those sweaty, beefy, ham hock hands. She used to think she loved him - that she might even end up marrying him. How was it possible to go from that to the way she saw him now? Just the thought of his hands on her made her shudder inside her sweatshirt.

He thought she owed him something, though. When she didn't want to pay up, he'd done the same thing as the bill collectors from Visa. He'd cut off her line of credit.

"Fine!" he'd yelled back at her as the bouncers dragged him out of the bar. "You want to play it that way? Fine with me! But you can find yourself somewhere else to sleep!"

No, she couldn't go back to Greg's apartment. Not ever. Not even if she had to leave behind all her worldly possessions except her Metrocard and this sweatshirt. She had no choice. Chalk it up to experience. Make it a rule to live by.

"Rule number one," she muttered under her breath. "Don't accept favors from men."

Rules, she chuckled to herself. Who did she sound like now? Of course, if she was going to blame the male sex for her current lack of assets, there was one man in particular who'd done far more damage than Greg. She'd buried herself in debt for him. Wasted two years of her life. Lost her slot in med school. Lost her apartment. Hell, she even bombed her MCAT because of him. She wouldn't have needed to go begging favors from ex-boyfriends in the first place if it hadn't been for him. For David. Another man she thought she loved.

"Rule number one," she silently amended. "Don't accept favors from men, and don't do favors for them, either."

Penny hugged her arms around herself and took a long, shaky breath. Men were not her friends. At least Greg had made that much clear to her within a few weeks. It had taken two years for her to wake up and realize that David Powers was no friend, either.

It was all so clear to her now, looking back. She should have realized it that night. Christmastime, the December before last. "I need you," his voice had said on the other end of the phone.

And she'd come running. Just like that. Just about this time of night, a few hours before dawn. She hadn't even bothered to get dressed. She'd thrown a down puffy coat over her pajamas and sprinted down the Smith Street subway platform to catch the Manhattan-bound F train just as the doors were closing.

That should have been the end of it, after what he'd done-what he'd done the morning after. She should have tendered her resignation then and there. How had she not seen it at the time? 

"Rule number one," she should have said to herself, on the long subway ride home the next day. "Don't interact with men at all. Period."

Penny leaned against the metal subway railing and buried her face in her hands, remembering.