YSB – Spirit of the Wolf

I’d woken in the night to hear the sounds of Shades having sex beside me.

Having expected this to happen at some point, I lay there beside him and felt my tears soaking my face and the cloth of my pillow. It was odd that he would make love next to one of the people he was supposed to be married to. I was used to this kind of irony, or at least my mindset expected it.

I reflected on two things at that moment: that he wasn’t having sex with Rainbow and that he was allowing me to be present for such a carnal act. It was like the final slap in the face, as if he were inviting me to join in some kind of rite or ritual.

When he was done, Shades and the woman left to go to some bar. I remember the look of his eyes when he left. It was like two shards of ice in the dark. I was reminded of being able to see the eyes of a cat in the dark; if you were quick enough, you could gather them to you, but you had to be careful because they had the potential to hurt.

My bag was ready and so was I. I had not stripped down to my underclothes when I had gone to bed. He hadn’t even noticed that my sneakers were still on. That worked in my favour. I counted in my head, waiting for Shades and the woman to be down at the bottom floor and out of the building. I counted for one-hundred and eighty second. Shades had a quick stroll when he had just gotten off.

I left his room and walked as quickly as I could through the apartment. No one else was up and I was able to make my escape. I had though of staying until he came back and confronting him about how he had treated me, but I realized that some battles did not need to be fought. Sometimes, the best way to fight a battle was to choose myself. That was a victory, however hard won it was. I was not leaving his room with my tail between my legs. Instead, I was choosing a new path for myself and holding my head high, proud that I had been strong enough to realize that I was worth more than Shades was willing to give me.

I went to spend the night at the mission. They had a cut off time for rooms and I was lucky to get in. I remember lying there on a plain bed with a blanket, too awake to sleep, listening to the sounds of the traffic outside the room and watching as the light played in shadows across the walls of the room.

When my alarm clock went off, I was surprised to find that I had actually fallen asleep. I took a shower at the mission, trying to be as quick as possible. I needed refuse and comfort so that I could lick my wounds. I dressed as quickly as possible and left the mission, thankful that in the midst of the shadows it was there, shining like a light.

The Youth Services Bureau was full of people that day. As I took a cup of coffee, I looked for a friendly face. I didn’t have to wait long. Sunshine found me and threw his arms around me. “Why do you look like the cat who has been kicked, honey?”

“I left Shades.” I said.

A wide smile broke out on his face. “Honey, thank goodness. I thought I would have to do an intervention!” He gave me another hug. “You’re worth more than ten of him.”

“What am I going to do?” I asked him, feeling the fear that I thought I had left behind at Shade’s apartment fill my mind. “Where am I going to go?”

“Honey, I told you already. You can come and stay with me. I live with two other guys, but they’re cool and the apartment is plenty big with lots of space.”

“Are you sure it is okay?” I asked, not wanting to impose myself upon another person.

“I told you a long time ago that you’re welcome at my place. I’m just surprised that it took you so long.” He gave me a bright smile and a quick hug. “You’re coming home with me, honey.”

I spent a lot of time at the YSB.

It was a home away from home really and gave me a place to get away from Shades when he was in one of his moods which was happening more and more lately.

The YSB was a haven of safety in a world that felt new and frightening. It was a place where the waters seemed to stand still around me and I didn’t feel like I was going to be taken out to sea. Whenever I was with Shades or out on the streets, I hear the steady ebb, flow and wave of water around me and within. My emotions were uncertain of where this path would take me. The waters only calmed when I put pen to paper.

I had taken a notepad and pen with me when I left home and I had taken to writing in it when I found myself lost. I would often go through the tarot deck that my brother had given me and wrote down my thoughts about certain cards within the Ancient Egyptian Tarot. It helped me to understand them. The scratching of the pen would calm the waves, and it was like the words were leading me home to myself.

I would sit in one of the chairs at the YSB, talking to friends, reading books that I found on the bookshelves, delving further into my tarot deck and writing. Interspersed through the nots about tarot and my thoughts, I would write poems, casting my words like stones upon the paper.

Words had been my comfort for so long. I had found my way in the world through them, and I had written voraciously since I was a child. I had to write; it was the way I found my voice when I felt that I didn’t have one. All throughout high school, my writing gave me the comfort I needed. I didn’t even realize I wanted to be a writer, or that I was one. Writing and words were just part of who I was. My pen had been quiet, but I had begun to take the journal out from time to time. There were only a handful of pages left, and I had to keep my writing small, but even so, they came out in a small torrent, and they carried me along, letting me know that they had my back, much like my cards. The words let me know that spirit was always there.

I looked at the pages left in my journal and wondered what I would fill those pages with, what words would fall out of me and find their way together.

One of the workers of the Youth Services Bureau stopped by my table, a woman named Rebecca. I later found out that all of the people that worked there were social workers. They were some of the very best people in my life at the time. They took care of me, each in their different way. Some would sit outside with us while we smoked cigarettes and others would walk around making sure we had food, or we had been able to take a shower.

She gave me a kind look. “What are you reading?”

“It’s my journal. I’ve been writing in it, but I’m running out of room.”

“Well, that’s awful,” she said. “You don’t want to stop a story or a poem in midsentence.”

I shrugged and gave her a weak smile. “There’s not much I can do. I’m running out of paper.”

She looked at my face and she could see the longing there. The pen lay on the table in front of me, but I didn’t reach for it. She saw my hand twitch and gave me a smile. “Hold on a second, I have an idea.”

Rebecca walked away for a moment and rummaged in the desk where the social worker on duty would sit. She returned a few minutes later with a few sheets of paper. She had folded them in half. When she handed them to me, it felt like she was giving me water or the breath of life. I could hear my pen click in joy on the table.

“You can’t stop story before it’s done,” she said. “You can fit them in the back of your journal so that you can keep writing. If you need more, just let me know.”

I nodded. “Thank you,” I told her, knowing no other words.

I slipped the paper into my journal and let the torrent of words take me forward where they would.

Tag: YSB

Chapter Eight – Strength

Chapter Seven – The Chariot