Sylvie huddled against the wall of an abandoned pawnshop, at the edge of a dark fetid alleyway strewn with litter. She had never been to the city before and everything seemed overwhelming—the sights, the sounds, the smells. She tried to become smaller, shrinking into herself, but she still felt dangerously conspicuous.

She tried to remember why she had come here: for adventure, to find work and to find her brother; not necessarily in that order. Any work she could get on this street wasn’t going to be up her alley! She smiled wryly at the joke.

First, she wanted to find her brother. She had no money and no place to stay, and she hoped he would help her out. The trouble was she didn’t know how to find him. Nobody did. Carl had disappeared into the mouth of the city a couple of years ago, and nobody in the family had heard from him. She thought she’d better try to make her way to a better part of town and find a pay phone. Maybe Carl would be listed. If only it could be that easy!

Sighing, she stood, hoisting her backpack onto her back. She kept her eyes down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. She felt like a fish out of water, surrounded by potential predators. Stories she’d heard over the years about young country girls in the city flashed redly in her mind. She saw pimps, kidnappers and drug dealers on every corner, just looking for fresh young victims like her.

Where would she sleep? She had almost no money. It seemed like a wild adventure at first. It was a fun party, she got a little drunk and at around midnight she decided to hitch to the city and find her brother. She already had a change of clothes and her toothbrush in her backpack, having planned to stay over at her friend Tracy’s house. Hah. What a great idea. What an idiot!

It took her two miserable days to get here. Her first ride was a trucker who, after asking her where she was headed, drove in silence most of the night. When he gestured her toward the sleeper cabin, she was too frightened to comply. Ignoring him, she huddled in the passenger seat and dozed the night away.

He dropped her off in Cache Creek. There she stood for hours in the blazing heat until a middle-aged, long-haired farmer in a beat-up pickup took her as far as Hope.

“You’re awful young to be hitching on your own, aren’t you?” he said.

“I’m eighteen,” she lied, crossly. Her conscience pricked her at the lie (she was fifteen), but it was none of his business how old she was, and if he knew, he might take her to the police or something.

“Ah,” he nodded. After a while, he confided, “When I was your age, I hitched across Europe. Things ain’t what they used to be, though. Dangerous people on the road these days.”

He was more inquisitive than she liked. She answered as tersely as possible, but he persevered.

“So, whattya gonna do in the city?” he asked.

“Meet my brother.”

“He expecting you?” His face was open and ingenuous. He was a nice old guy but she wished he would shut up.

“’Course!” She cast him a withering glance. Nosy old bugger.

“Ah…” he said again. They drove in silence after that.

At Hope, he handed her a $20.00 bill.

“What’s this for?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothin’,” he shrugged. “Thought you might want to catch the bus from here, maybe. Don’t have to take it if you don’t want it. I can afford it, though.”

After a moment, she said, grudgingly, “Thanks.” She had some money, but she didn’t know how long it would last.

He dropped her off at the bus station, and after a few moments’ thought, she decided to give up hitchhiking. She was tired and it was late. The next bus south was in a couple of hours, so she treated herself to a piece of pie in the grungy cafeteria. She had to pick mold off the bottom crust, but it tasted pretty good anyway.

“Sylvie,” she said to herself, “This is probably a really stupid thing to do…but I guess you’re committed now.”

Later, with a relieved sigh, she relaxed into the soft high bus seat and slept the night away.

Beyond Hope 2

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