Survival

10. The Disease of Memories

            Stephanie had the feeling that she was doing the homework wrong. Actually, she wasn’t making much headway at all. Deciding that she’d had enough of that, Stephanie put away her books and resolved to do it later. She hitched her bag over her shoulder and hopped off of the bench. The school was totally quiet, which was to be expected anyway.

The late afternoon sun kept the air springtime warm, though there was the promise of rain in the air. The slight electric atmosphere in the air was exhilarating, making the hair on the back of Stephanie’s neck rise.

In an attempt to escape the storm, Stephanie ran the rest of the way to the hotel. She entered the hotel through the lobby, almost colliding with Miranda on her way in.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Stephanie apologized, moving to go around the lady when Miranda stopped her.

“You’re not nineteen.” The words were spoken calmly, without accusation.

They still stopped Stephanie in her tracks. Fatigue flooded through her veins when she recognized that her time was up before it should have been. She had accepted that Sunday was the cut off point, but only four days? Even in a small town, she must have made mistakes along the way.

“No, I’m not.” Stephanie answered, turning to face the tall, elegant woman with the motherly face. Surprise did not cross Miranda’s face at the admission. “But you’ve known that for a while, haven’t you?”

Ms. Seymour nodded, confirming what Stephanie had originally suspected. “I’ve known since you got here, but I was wondering if you’d ever come clean about it.”

“I wouldn’t have, if I could have helped it.” Stephanie confessed absently, her mind already whirring with the possibilities of where she could head next.

“Where are your parents?”

She could have lied, could have made up a believable story to feed Miranda. On the other hand, Stephanie doubted that she could deceive the perceptive woman, as her first lie had not gotten by either. Instead, Stephanie shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Miranda regarded her for a long moment. “How old are you really?”

“I’m seventeen.” Stephanie answered, feeling her shoulders slump in defeat. Miranda would probably call child services, and then Steph would be thrown back into the government system. “I’ve been on my own on and off for two years,” She felt the need to add, as if she were pleading her case.

Miranda’s eyes softened, but they swam with an unspoken battle.

Under her intensely scrutinizing eyes Stephanie stayed, trying not to seem as defeated as she felt. How could she have not lasted a week? Just a simple week compared to months at a time. She needed to take more care next time, if she had a next time before she turned eighteen.

“Two years?” She whispered, half a statement of wonder and half a disbelieving question.

It dawned on Stephanie that two years had been a long time for her to be running, and managing herself. The weight of the recognition didn’t make it any easier to appear nonchalant about the whole ordeal. “Are you going to call the cops?”

“No.” The note in Miranda’s voice was so final, that it startled Stephanie into further speaking.

“You’re not? But why?”

“Because you’re coming home with me.” She answered, resolution set in her facial features. The warring element disappeared from her eyes.

Stephanie’s head snapped up at the command in her voice, powerful in a commanding way. It had been a while since anyone had been able to pull her in with a few simple words. “I- I can’t,” Stephanie said, her voice wavering with uncertainty.