Forgive Me(90)

Pumped! I got a text from Tasha today. Wasn’t hard to find her. I just had to tell my therapist that I thought it would help me if I could speak with her. I had to confront my past yadayadayada. Guess what happened? Tasha texted me about three seconds after I texted her. Actually, it wasn’t total BS what I said to my shrink. I did feel better hearing from her. She was a good part of a bad experience. If I never spoke to Tasha again, I’d be left with only the bad parts.





So Tasha and I met up. Sophia (she’s got her license) drove us to the Gallery at Harbor Place in Baltimore. Back to Baltimore, my old stomping grounds. Sophia had to skip school, but I didn’t. I dropped out and I’ll probably have to repeat 10th grade or maybe I’ll just get my GED. It’s hard to imagine I can ever go back to my school again. What happened to me isn’t going to be forgotten by everyone over the summer.

The plan was to meet at Starbucks. I got there first and I was crazy nervous waiting for Tasha to show up. Sophia got us each a Caramel Macchiato, which is like four billion calories but it’s sooooo unbelievably delicious. We chatted about things. About how bitchy Hannah, Madison, and Brianna were being. About how my dad has been sort of cool to me lately. Cool as in nice, as in acting somewhat interested in me. I slept over at his place the other day and he tucked me in, kissed my forehead like I was a kid again, and he even told me that he loved me. He said he was sorry for everything I’d been through and I believed him. Even my mom is trying to turn things around. She’s going to AA now. If she saw my arms she’d send me to CA for sure (that’s cutters anonymous, and no Sophia hasn’t seen the scars because I keep wearing long sleeve shirts). When Tasha showed up, Sophia didn’t know what to do or say. I could tell she was really nervous. Tasha wasn’t a girl like us. She was a woman. She smoked and did drugs and got paid for sex. Instead of being embarrassed or mad, I just laughed and grabbed Sophia’s arm because I knew what she was thinking. We’re besties after all. I told her not to be nervous around Tasha.

I told her I did everything she did.





The good part now. Tasha and I reconnected and it was like so cathartic. We made it only a few minutes in Starbucks before I started to cry so we decided to take a walk. Sophia hung back ’cause she’s cool like that. She understood we needed time alone. Tasha and I walked arm-in-arm along the harbor. It was a beautiful day, lots of sunshine, boats on the water, and a bunch of seagulls dive bombing unsuspecting tourists for their food. There was so much to do down there, but all I wanted to do was walk and talk with Tasha. She told me she was living at some kind of safe house for people like us, victims of human trafficking. Well, more for people like Tasha because I had a safe house I ran away from. Well, a sorta safe house. Safer now that mom is cutting back on the booze. But Tasha has nothing. No family. No real friends. No work experience. No way to make it. They can give her all the support in the world, but what is she really going to do with her life? She doesn’t even have a high school degree. She can get her GED, or so she says. The other girls don’t have it any easier. When we were back at the apartment, the food was always pretty decent, but now Tasha gets most of what she eats from a food pantry, and her clothes come from Goodwill (though she looked amazing in her jeans, heels, and this cute yellow top. That from Goodwill? 4Real? I know where I’ll be shopping!) Tasha told me she’ll probably work at a club for a while. Yeah, that kind of club. Her plan is to save enough money so she can go to hairstyling school. Whatever it takes, I told her. But I did say I’d rather see her cutting hair than twirling on a pole at some skanky strip club.





Tasha held up a baggie of blue pills she brought just for me. I lifted up my sleeve and showed her my mangled arm. She made a face like it was gross to look at, and put the pills back in her purse. She got it though. I had my own way of numbing the pain now.

Eventually we got down to business. I told Tasha what I was trying to do. She thought about it and on the spot came up with something I hadn’t ever considered. Something truly brilliant! It was so good it made me realize my idea of going to see Ricardo wasn’t ever going to work. I guess sometimes if you look at things from a different angle what seems like big a disappointment (e.g. not getting into the prison) is really a blessing in disguise (e.g. Tasha’s idea). Of course this whole different angle thing doesn’t apply to what Stinger Markovich did to me. There’s really no silver lining there. If I’m being honest with myself, I’d say I wish I never met Tasha. Harsh, but it’s the truth. She’s an awesome girl, don’t get me wrong, but I still wish I didn’t have to know her. I wish I didn’t have to know any of them, including Jade, the poor girl with an eating disorder who was with us one day and gone the next.

I wish I didn’t have to know Jade at all.

But now my only wish is to find her.





CHAPTER 48



On his way back to Baltimore, Bryce made a planned stop. The guy’s name was Ray Anderson and he had retired from the U.S. Marshals when Bryce was still collecting Pokémon cards. Bryce and Ray had never met, but Ray’s name was all over the Conti paperwork, so he figured the old-timer might be able to shed some light on the situation. Bryce wanted to do something to help out Angie, though his motives were not a hundred percent altruistic.