Page 46 of Kayden: The Past
I followed his advice. I walked in the front doors of the shelter and tried to think of it as temporary. I’d only stay a night.
The one goodthing that came out of the Salvation Army was enrolling in their programs for alcoholics. I wasn’t happy about it at the time, but it was a requirement if you wanted to live there. I sat through the meetings and listened to the stories people wanted to share, but I never shared my story. The only thing I had was my phone that the company returned to me after I made bail.
I worked in their store to help “pay” for my room and board. Lisa contacted me shortly after my bail hearing. I didn’t answer her first phone call or the second. I didn’t have anything to say to her. She was the reason I lived in a shelter and worked in a thrift store, but eventually, my hard shell and fucking curiosity got the best of me.
“Hello.”
“Kayden?”
“What do you want, Lisa? Not done torturing me enough?” I sighed as I stretched out on my uncomfortable mattress of metal springs and no padding.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s all you have to say after all this bullshit?”
“I really am sorry. I want you back. Please, come back.”
“How can I come back? I’m awaiting trial, Lisa, and you put me through hell for months.”
“Come back to me, and I’ll call and have the charges dropped, please.”
I wanted to go back to my home and have my record cleared more than anything in the world. “You get the charges dropped, and I’ll come home. I’ll come back to you.”
“I’ve missed you, Kayden, more than the air that I breathe. I fucked up. I’m sorry! I don’t know what else to say.” I could hear her sniffle on the other end of the phone.
A woman in tears and I never mixed. I hated and loved her. Why? I don’t fucking know. She was the reason for my fucked-up life being in shambles. Well…not entirely, I played a pretty damn big role in my downfall too.
“I’ve missed you too, Lisa. I hate what’s happened to us. Things need to change if I come back.”
“They will,” she said quickly. “I promise.”
I wanted my life back.
I waitedfor the call from my attorney to tell me that the charges had been dropped, but it never came. My trial day arrived, and I walked into court feeling like a noose was firmly planted around my neck, waiting for the floor to give way.
I stood in front of the judge and prayed it was all just a cruel dream, but it was very much a nightmare that I lived. Nothing I did could make it go away.
I pled guilty and didn’t contest the charges just as my lawyer told me to do. He said the judge would go easy on me.
“The court accepts your plea, Mr. Michaels. I’m withholding adjudication until after your probationary period. Complete your probation and pay court-ordered restitution, and your record will be cleared and no guilt will be placed upon your record,” the judge said.
My pulse increased, and my heart stammered with the news.
“Also, I’m placing a no-contact order on the property and Ms. Jackson. You are not allowed within fifty yards of said property or Ms. Jackson herself. Am I clear, Mr. Michaels?” the judge asked.
My heart sank, nausea overcame me, and I felt light-headed. I couldn’t go home and couldn’t be with Lisa, or I’d break probation and be forced to serve jail time. My body felt numb.
“Mr. Michaels, do you understand?” the judge asked again.
“Yes, your honor, I understand,” I said.
Court was dismissed, and my lawyer held out his hand to shake mine. I looked at it and then to his face, trying to grasp the orders of the judge. My lawyer smiled, but nothing about the verdict, or lack thereof, caused me happiness. I walked past him without hesitation, into the hallway, and collapsed on a bench. I had nothing and no one—my only salvation was in the shelter I now called home.
