Chapter One
Lids heavy with sleep, I pulled myself to a sitting
position. My toes curled as my feet made contact with the cool, tiled floor.
Start of summer, and yet the sleeping hall never warmed up.
I shivered as I ran the palms of my hands over my bed sheet,
smoothing out the wrinkles of the night.
Time to wake Melisa, whose bed was positioned to the right
of mine. We both relied on my cell phone alarm, but Melisa didn’t respond to the ringing.
“Melisa, wake up,” I said, approaching her bed.
“Go to hell.” She pulled the threadbare blanket tighter
around her petite body.
“Come on, we’re on breakfast duty.”
She sighed, and shoved the blanket from her body. Her
sluggish movements roused suspicion inside me. “You had a drink last night,
didn’t you?”
“Do I look drunk to you?” Her heavy lashes flew up to reveal
bloodshot eyes.
“Yes, you do.” I hated to think what alcohol would do to her
beauty. Even after all she’d gone through, at thirty-four, Melisa Bergfeld’s beauty
hadn’t faded. Her amber eyes, fiery hair, and curves in all the right places
made most everyone look twice. I, on the other hand, was tall and slim with
minimal curves and full auburn hair that lacked luster. But I wouldn’t trade my
baby blue eyes for anything. They reminded me of the mother I’d never known.
All memories of my biological parents were photographs.
My parents died in a car crash when I was two, and I grew up
in The Serendipity Sunshine Orphanage and later with several foster parents. My
last foster family cared for me as if I were their own. They moved to
Germany—my foster mother’s home country—when I moved out at eighteen.
“One beer, that’s all,” Melisa admitted as she folded her
blanket carefully. It was one of the Oasis Shelter rules for neatness. All beds
should be well-made, and sleeping areas tidy at all times.
On our way to the bathroom, we walked down the aisle created
by thirty beds, fifteen on each side.
The female staff bathroom had two shower cubicles, a sink,
and a toilet with a broken cover. Nothing fancy, but at least it was clean.
Unlike the two residents’ bathrooms. No matter how much they were scrubbed
down, the mildew, grime, and dried globs of toothpaste never disappeared from
the walls and sinks.
“Morning, Suzie. Hi, Jade.” The two women, both in their
early thirties, stood at the sink, brushing their teeth. They nodded at my
greeting.
“I need a strong coffee. My head is about to explode.”
Melisa’s back slumped against the wall, as we waited for our turn at the sink.
“What you need is to stop drinking.” I extracted her
toothbrush from her hand and squeezed toothpaste on it.
“I’ll stop tomorrow.” She wrapped one of her red pigtails
around her hand.
“Isn’t that what you always say?” Lauren finger-combed her
short, spiky black hair.
“And I mean it every time,” Melisa retorted. “What’s it to
you, anyway? At least I’m not a crack addict.”
“You know very well I kicked the habit years ago.”
“Once a drug addict, always a drug addict.” When Melisa was
drunk or hungover, her fuse was as short as a matchstick.
“Same as a drunk.” Jade intervened to defend her friend, but
then sighed. “We’re just trying to help.”
“You can help a lot by butting out of my business.”
Jade and Lauren both shook their heads and left the
bathroom.
“Melisa, we’re all in Oasis to heal. Putting each other down
only worsens things.” I handed her back the toothbrush.
“I know. That Lauren just drives me mad sometimes. Come on,
let’s finish up here.”
***
Two other women were on duty with us in the kitchen—Rory, a
resident, and Lynnette Magill, a frail woman with grey hair who founded the
shelter.
By quarter to six, two large pots of coffee and two of tea
stood on the scarred wooden table next to the kitchen entrance. Melisa sliced
the bread, and I smeared the slices with peanut butter and strawberry
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