Shadows but no substance, in the shape of men
Round and down and sideways they go
Adrift without direction, eyes that hold despair
Then as one they sigh and they moan
Help us someone, let us out of here
For a split-second, a perverse thought struck her … what would happen if she told Mr. Conway the truth?
‘Oh … by the way, I’m a former addict!’
The contract clearly said that Mr. Conway had to give her a month’s advance warning if he ever wanted her out. So if she told him outright, would that be … insane?
Maybe. But in a strange way it would feel good to prove that she still had the guts to stand by who she was. She could always go back to the motels until she found something else.
Also, doing something insensibly crazy like this would feel even better than the oh-so-sensible promise she had made to herself: That come summer she would have earned enough of her own money to pay back Jeremy and return to university and finish—guess what—her law degree. After she had become a real lawyer, she would spend the rest of her life helping people who had found themselves up to their throats in shit, just because they had made a few bad calls at a time in their lives. Yeah, she would go back to university and then she would be like that lawyer in the John Grisham-novel … what-was-its-name-again…?
But she hesitated … and then she told herself sharply not to think crazy thoughts again, not to ruin it all on a childish whim, and to smile normally to Mr. Conway.
He didn’t smile back at her. Continue reading