The Last Entry

I took my clothes, my phone, my purse, my journal, threw them in my backpack, and started towards the door. That hallway outside my bedroom felt the longest it ever had been. My heartbeat drowned the sounds of my boots hitting the creaky panels as I remembered my life as I had known it. With every step the little girl that was once me grew more distant, more of a memory.

“And never come back!”

My mother’s shouts felt fainter with every thump of each sole. I turned my attention away as I noticed the light from the window panel on the front door grew brighter as I approached. This was my moment, the beginning of my life as I will know it. The knob felt cold as I turned it for the last time and pushed out into the bright daylight.

Without turning back, I walked down the unkempt gravel driveway, making sure to keep my attention on the thuds of my boots.

It wasn’t for what felt like an eternity did my mind stray from the rhythmic security of my footsteps.

. . .

Richard Biggs was a simple man. A committed college student, only in his second semester, he spent most of his time studying or watching whatever was on the TV. He was known as Ricky, but only to a few as he mostly kept to himself.

Ricky wasn’t quite a hermit, but he knew he didn’t get out much. He knew it was best to get out of the apartment once in a while. Fresh air was hard to come by in his poorly ventilated Bronx “studio”.

It was around 5 o’clock that chilly January evening, the sun just in the process of making its escape.

He pulled over his coat and started towards the door.

Each step echoed as he descended the stairway of the cheap apartment building. The air grew colder as he approached the exit, before experiencing a blast of chill crisp air as it ran over the city sidewalk. Looking at the window reflection of the tallest building, he could see that the sun was still peeking over the horizon. Just enough light to take a walk.

He had no real intention for this spontaneous outing, and his mind wandered. He began to think about his schooling and his life as he knew it then. He knew no one in the city and the rest of his family were buried in the woods of New York State. Loneliness had never been an issue, at least up until now. His only interactions were with the mart clerks.

Time went by quickly, as he unexpectedly realized that the sidewalk was lit only by the tall street lights. It was probably time to turn back. Though in that moment the wind blew more forcefully, causing him to strain and turn his face away from the cold.

It was then that a small black object nestled in the corner of a dumpster caught his eye. He almost turned and kept walking, though something compelled him to seek a closer look. As he walked closer, it became what looked to be a small plastic bag, then some sort of pouch.

It wasn’t until he was standing directly over it that he realized exactly what it was. It was a small black handbag.

The bag wasn’t too fancy at all. The fabric looked cheap and the broken handle was functionally a small leash. Ricky picked up the bag, and to his surprise, he realized it had an unexpected weight to it. Whatever was in there was very densely packed.

Ricky tugged at the zipper as gently as he could, opening the small bag little by little.

His eyes gleamed in the artificial light as he realized what he was seeing.

Bills. 100 dollar bills. Stacks of them.

. . .

I walked until I reached the main street. My hands were shaking as my mind began to wrap around what just happened. It was the morning of my 18th birthday, the day I had been looking forward to for years. The day I could take myself and escape that ruined home. Relying on her would leave me broken, I knew I had to escape her as soon as I could.

The sun shone bright in my face. I shielded my eyes as I sought out what I came here for. My gaze caught the building I was looking for and I hastened my stride. I approached the door, stepped through it, and before long I left through that same door. The only difference was that I had a little over 20 thousand dollars in my pocket.

It was all that was left of Dad’s money. It was the only money my mom couldn’t take. The money he left for me, only for me.

I swiftly cast the thought of Dad away. Even after 3 years, his death was still so raw in my heart. Now, I had to focus. I stored the money in this little old bag along with my journal and clutched it to my heart.

I turned to walk towards the train station with my future cradled in my arms.

. . .

Ricky did not remember the walk back to his apartment. He was sitting at his table, staring at the contents the little bag had kept hidden.

The $20,200 was staring him in the face. There was also a little black journal inside the bag, but the elephant in the room continued to keep his gaze. He didn’t know what to do. That money could be the very thing he needed to kickstart his life. Running his fingers through his now sweat-ridden hair, he took a deep breath.

His eyes now moved to the journal. He picked it up, noticing the yellowed edges of the pages within.

Ricky took a long, deep breath before lifting the weathered cover from its aged paper frame. The opening page was the first thing he saw.

“Little Laura, I love you more than life itself. Don’t be afraid to remember, and I promise this journal won’t forget. Love, Dad.”

The writing looked noticeably old, and so did many of the pages towards the beginning. He was surprised at how much this little journal was able to hold. There seemed to be dozens of written pages, but still with a few pages left to write.

Ricky read for hours. He read well into the evening, following the life of Laura Henry through years of her life. It started off as teenage drama, friends’ houses, schoolwork. Though time and tragedy flew through the pages of this little book, as Ricky witnessed Laura’s father’s death, the beginning of abuse from her mother, and her dive into a sad and lonely life.

His heart tore into pieces as he thought of all the pain Little Laura was in.

. . .

My first glance at New York City was felt with both relief and wariness. I knew this couldn’t be easy. I knew that this would be so hard to do alone. I didn’t even know where to start.

My plan was to find some sort of apartment or shelter that I could stay in, hopefully for more than just a few nights since I needed to get some footing. I knew of a few in the Bronx, so that would be the current plan.

I’m afraid and fighting for my life. A real life. Not one of torment, abuse, or even worse. This is something I have to do.

With my dad’s love in my heart, I’m not alone. I can’t be.

. . .

That was the last entry written in the journal. Written over a week before. Ricky was stunned at what he had just found, the life he had just lived through. Thoughts swarmed his head of where this girl could be. His heart sunk at the idea that she might not be safe. Why had she lost the most important thing to her? He knew nothing of what to do or where to start, but there was one thing Ricky knew:

Laura’s future was staring at him from his little dining room table.

Sleep evaded him that night, but the morning couldn’t come soon enough. He knew then that he had to try to find this girl.

It was 9 o’clock, the sun now shining brightly in his face as he walked to the nearest shelter with the journal and bag protected in his arms. The morning was chilly but tolerable, and he couldn’t remember the last time he was out so early.

The time flew. Tension in his heart grew larger with every shelter he passed. Every door he walked through proved to be a failed venture as “Laura Henry” began to slip from his grasp.

The sun had fallen to the west, and Ricky’s hope was beginning to fail him. He wondered to himself why this meant so much to him so quickly, that he could just take the money and call it quits. He had spent hours searching through the city, but the ocean that is the Bronx was just too vast. Laura, in a sea of buildings and roads, was lost.

The sky dimmed, but Ricky decided to look up one more place. Clutching the journal and the black bag to his chest, he ventured one last time to search for the mysterious girl.

He walked up to the door of the last shelter. This time, no one was at the front, he just walked right into a room filled with people.

“Is.. Is there a Laura Henry here?” Ricky said with a nervous heart.

There was silence, and he scanned the room for anyone who might have reacted or made eye contact. The quiet was deafening, especially with so many people in the room.

He turned to go, walking with his arm still clutching the book, defeated. It was time to go home.

“My name is Laura Henry.”

His eyes shot up to a girl standing directly between him and the exit. She was skinny, with barely any clothes on her body to keep her warm, with boots proportionately large to the rest of her figure. Ricky made eye contact with her, and her brown irises were islands to a red, tear-stricken stare.

“Laura..” Ricky mumbled, as his own eyes watered at the sheer pain he could see in hers. She looked at the journal he was carrying, and looked back at him, her eyes suddenly filled with nothing short of delight.

“I believe this is yours.” The words barely escaped Ricky’s mouth.

The girl suddenly burst into tears and wrapped her frail arms around Ricky, sobbing into his shoulder. Ricky knew the weight of her future being restored to her. Even though this all happened so quickly, he felt a connection with her, knowing how much she has truly been through. Knowing the tears of relief were also cries of abandonment captured his heart.

“Thank you for bringing my future back.” Laura whispered.

. . .

I’m not alone anymore.

After losing my bag that night walking to the shelter, I cried. I cried for days. One moment I had it around my shoulder, and the next moment it was gone. I searched all through the cold of night into the morning to no avail.

But, it was this very journal that brought it back to me. That, and someone with a kind heart.

This is the last entry I will be writing in this book. The years past are now a chapter closed, a sun set. A new life, one all my own, is rising from the horizon, and a new ray of hope has entered my heart.

My dad will always live on with me, but as this little black book comes to a close, it will always mark a part of my life, a part that now I won’t be afraid to remember.

-Laura