“Sorry about the wait, Elle.” The social worker says, breaking my terrible daydream. The creek his office door makes when it opens startles me as he enters. He sits at his desk and faces me with that smile still plastered on his face. “I usually keep copies at my desk, but unfortunately we have been busy. Don’t worry though, we do have room here at the emergency women’s shelter if it’s determined that you meet the criteria for our services.” His smile fades for a moment. “I hate how that sounded so cold.” I nod my head with understanding. “Anyways, let’s start filling out some paperwork. Can I have your full name please?”
I sigh. “Noelle Carmen Maven.” He slowly writes down my name while raising an eyebrow.
The social worker drops the pen on top of the paperwork and looks at me coldly. “Maven? Are you related to Ron Maven by chance?” His permanent smile is a distant memory.
I nod my head. “He’s my father.”
The social worker nods back. “I see.” His bottom lip stiffens. The social worker opens a drawer and slowly places my paperwork in it, shutting it. “As I mentioned before, we are pretty full here. I can give you some referrals for other community programs like ours that may have openings.” The social worker stands up, cueing me that our short meeting was over.
“Wait.” I say remaining stuck on my seat as if glued there. “You said you would have openings, room for me. I mean you just said-”
“I’m sorry Mrs. Maven, I can’t make an exception.”
“Because of my father?” The social worker is taken aback by my candid question. “I’ve been to the other shelters in this city. They either didn’t have room or flat turned me down. You’re my last stop.”
The social worker looks at me coldly, as if I’d stolen something dear from him. “Even if I wanted to let you in the shelter, I couldn’t, for your safety. Some of the women living here are a direct or indirect result of your father.”
“I’m not my dad!” I raise my voice. My anger is the only thing keeping a tear from forming. “I’m not my family.”
The social worker’s expression softens. His true caring personality is exposed again, but he looks at me in pity. “Maybe some of the girls here will understand that, but many won’t. Word will travel quickly that you are Ron Maven’s kid. Then you will need another emergency shelter to protect you from the line of women who will want to kick your ass, or worse.”
I stand up. This meeting is truly over. I should have known this would be the outcome.
I turn to walk out the door when the social worker grabs my shoulder. “If you want my advice, leave town. Go somewhere where nobody knows who you are, or what your family does.”
“I’m trying to pass high school to get into some type of college.”
“That’s good.” The social worker opens a different drawer and hands me a brochure. “If you get the grades, here is a list of scholarships that are open to, people who-”
“Are poor as hell, thanks. And I do have the grades.” I say to him challengingly, although I’m not sure why. It could be that I wanted him to know not everybody here is some victim looking for a handout for their rest of their lives. Some of us want to earn it.
I walk outside the shelter and see Candice leaning against the brick building, blowing a large gum bubble. She pops it when she notices me and fixes her short plaid skirt. Candice always looks like she’s working, with her skimpy outfits and innocent demeanour. I’m not sure if she realizes it anymore. She may have an occupation that I don’t agree with, but Candice Owens is my best friend, maybe my only friend left.
I had many friends, but as they got older and realized who my father was, they seemed more interested in getting his attention then keeping mine. Candice is the last of the friends I made in high school who is truly on my side.
She walks over to me with a cautious look. “You don’t seem happy. Are you happy? Is this a happy face?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s an I don’t give a fuck face.”
Candice nods her head. “At the beginning of September, I get my own place. I’ve saved up enough for a few month’s rent. You could sleep in the living room.”
“And be your freeloading roommate? I don’t think so.”
“Come on! It will be fun!”
“Only if you come to school with me.” I say smiling.
Candice rolls her eyes. “I’m done with that scene. I make more money out here.” She waves her hands around the streets, and on cue an older man walks by her. She smiles at him and he looks back as her with a cringeworthy smile.
“Ugh. I don’t know how you do- that,” I say, nodding my head towards the old creep.
Candice smiles. “Guys like that are harmless. They just want a good screw to make them happy for a few minutes before going back home to their crappy marriage. They pay the best too.”
“You could do much better at school. Go to some community college or something.”
Candice waves her head. “Do you know how much I made last night?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“If I tell you maybe you would join me. We could work this area together. Be a safety net for each other.”
“Candice! I hate it when you try and recruit me. I don’t want you to be my pimp.”
She laughs. “This is just temporary. I’m young. I may as well use it to my advantage. Once I save enough, I can move out of this shithole city. Go somewhere where nobody knows me and pretend this
