Twenty-three-year old Jadie Santiago has a secret.
One morning on her way to work she stops to offer a homeless man a
bottle of water. As she meets the man’s eyes, Jadie instantly recognizes
they belong to her father, whom she hasn’t seen since she was sixteen.
Unable to accept the truth of her encounter, Jadie flees, hoping
eventually to forget the experience and continue leading a normal life.
But then she meets Reece, an aspiring writer with a mysterious past
who is set on capturing Jadie’s affection. Jadie wants nothing more than
to give her heart to Reece, but her broken past and crippling secret
keep her from surrendering it to him fully.
Things won’t come easy to Jadie as she fights for her place in the
world, but there is strength in her, and she is determined never to stop
struggling for what so many others have: love, happiness, and a sense
of belonging.
I
have a secret and I need to tell someone.
So
it went something like this. I passed him every day on my way to and
from work. He lived on the sidewalk under the train tracks.
Sometimes, he was asleep, a stained blanket on his thin and frail
body. Sometimes, he was awake and sitting against a concrete wall,
his folded blanket at his side, glazed eyes staring at nothingness.
Sometimes, I chose to walk on the other side of the street because I
just couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t stand seeing him. And
sometimes, when he wasn’t there, I felt my heart sink, wondering if
he was okay, if he was hurt, if he had left me again, this time
forever. Those were the worst days. I’d spend all day worried about
him, feeling guilty, unable to close my mind to the dark thoughts
that screamed I was a horrible, horrible person.
The
next day, I’d get up earlier than usual, frantic, no coffee, no
ironing my clothes, no combing my hair, and dart out of the apartment
I shared with two other girls. I’d fly down the Metro escalator.
Once
on the platform, I’d shove my way to the front and wait for the
flashing lights, signaling an approaching train. Come on, come on,
stupid train. There we stood, a crowd of commuters waiting to be
whisked off.
In
my most frantic moments, I’d often wonder what the people standing
next to me or behind me were thinking. I wanted to ask them to let me
take a peek inside, a small, quick glance at their souls. Excuse
me, mind if I ask you a question? Are you happy? Ridiculous, I
know.
Eileen
Cruz Coleman was born in Washington, D.C. to an immigrant El Salvadoran
mother and a Puerto Rican father. She is a graduate of the University
of Maryland with a degree in History. Her short stories have appeared in
numerous literary journals both online and in print. She lives
in Maryland with her husband and two children.To stay in touch with her, subscribe to her e-newsletter. Cut and paste this URL into your browser: eepurl.com/vAmTz
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Something Like This.
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She seems almost tormented by her gift.
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