Chapter Three

     My freedom was at hand and I was finally feeling happy. My new apartment was cozy and furnished. My rent was $450/ month and my only expenses were electric and telephone, both of which were surprisingly low. I told my brother the date I’d be leaving. I could sense his fear. He was afraid of my father but he had the option of living with my mother, an option I was never offered by her. All he had to do was not come home after school and go meet my mother. I, on the other hand had no such luxury. It was as if my mother left me for dead.

     In an unmarked moving van, I sat almost breathless as we awaited the arrival of the police. I had called the police just in case my father got crazy and grabbed one of his many guns he kept in his bedroom. For some reason, my father looked as if he knew I was leaving. He came out the front door and got into his car, driving away from the house. I noticed my brother walking down the street. His face was tight and his cheeks were streaked with tears. He blindly walked passed the unmarked van.  When the police escort arrived, they questioned a neighbor about my residence and I was allowed to unlock the door and frantically gather my belongings. My friends had my things packed in the van in less than a half hour. Before I left, I turned to my brother whose eyes were red. “Take me with you!” he wailed and my heart was instantly torn in two. At the time, I knew that since my brother was under legal age, I’d get in trouble for taking him with me. My safety would be jeapordized and there was no telling what my father would do once he found me.

     I hugged my brother and placed my copy of the key on the dining room table.  My brother said that he had seen our father’s car circling the neighborhood so I had to hurry. The police officer questioned me about my father. My father could make anyone believe he was an innocent old man as he did many of the Providence Police Officers, especially those who were unaware of the many public fights at our former house on Sumter Street. He often waved at the police officers while he aimlessly leaned against the porch watching life pass by. He had a lot of people fooled and then there were some closed lipped people whojust turned a blind eye to what was in front of their faces.

     “Good luck.” My brother whispered as I tightly hugged him goodbye. I told him that I would be in touch. I loved my brother so very much despite the mean things he said to me. I knew he just didn’t understand. I loved him more than I loved anyone at the time. A flood of emotions washed over me but I remained strong. I didn’t cry until I was in the van and we pulled away.