The Mill, Chapter One

A Chapter by Erin Lee

Chapter One

The old mill frowned. It seemed bigger now. Someone had scribbled, and then scratched out, the words "F**k You, Zodiac" on its belly. Its windows were tired eyes, most of them half shut - others completely broken and bloodshot. But something about its sun burnt bricks made it seem almost welcoming. Inviting, at least, to a girl who had nowhere else in the world to go.

What would it be like to sleep here? Abandoned, sure. Scary? Most definitely. But at least that a*****e wouldn't be around. No one to sneak into the bedroom. A girl could walk around without worrying if her shorts were too tight or who was looking at her a*s. She wouldn't need to worry about how loud her music was or who was in a bad mood. She could sleep in late and go to bed when she wanted to. She wouldn't have to worry about faking sleep at all.

Peyton sighed, peeking in an all but blown out window, checking twice to make sure no one was watching her slide past the bits of broken glass. Inside, remnants of a whole other life hung from the walls, perched on the floors, and hollered from crooked beams. A sign, reading Troy Mill Textiles swung lopsided from a peg on a dusty wall. It rocked back and forth, slow dancing in the silent breeze.

Crooked, it may as well have read "home sweet home." Machinery from another time echoed of the lives that were once lived here. If you listened well enough, you could almost hear them - a man named Bill, calling to another man across the way, asking about his weekend plans."You and Gina takin' the kids to the fair?" He'd chirp back, "Aye-up," keeping his leather hands on the machine he was working on, hardly looking across the cement floor room.

There has to be a way out of this mess. And it can't mean resorting to this. Terri's sister missed her period once. A woman at a clinic up the street gave her a free pregnancy test and information on birth control. But it was too late for that now. Mom's boyfriends never thought about the consequences of that special "Daddy's little girl secret time" when they crept under the comforter on that awful olive couch.

Jimmy, her latest beau, was the worst of them. He'd come home well after midnight with the sour smell of whiskey on his breath, staggering. “How're ya, pumpkin'? ...Come sit by yur Jimmy Daddy,” he'd drawl, commanding with his dull gray eyes. “Give me one of dose back rubs of yours, sweetie.” It'd be less than a beer before he'd unzip his Levi's and ask for another type of rub.

He always smelt of stale smoke " a cold reminder of where his affinity for the local bar. It was the only place left in town where you could smoke. He'd spend his entire unemployment check " the whole $213 of it " in a night or two. Then, he'd be asking Mom for the tips she brought in working the night shift. He'd beg her with those same dead eyes. “Please, pumpkin! Jimmy Daddy just needs a couple of bucks. Ya can't let yur man sit alone home all night just waitin' for his old lady. Just a couple bucks?”

It was getting late. More importantly, it was getting dark. The mill yawned, lettings its dusty arms settle around the fall of the sun. This would have to do, but only for the night. Mom always said answers came best after a good night's sleep. But sleep didn't come quickly these days. And the thought of what kind of critters might be living behind the wooden crates were enough to scare even the bravest of runaways. Shadows danced on the mill's spine, enough to make a girl shiver.

One night, she told herself. The moon winked. It's just one night.

***

September 13

The mill is becoming my best friend. Today, I went to the salvation army and picked up an old pillow and comforter. It has a few stains on it, and even a tear. But it is gorgeous. It's purple with butterflies and it smells of fabric softener. I lined up five of those old crates and made myself a couch. I am excited to sleep there tonight, as it's getting so much colder at night.

It's been two weeks and I wonder what Mom is thinking. I thought about calling her today but I know that she will want me to come home. I can't exactly explain all of this to her. I know she won't believe me. And I don't want to hurt her. If she does believe me, she gets hurt. If she doesn't believe me, I get hurt. Either way, someone gets hurt. That's not okay with me.

***

Peyton was surprised at how quickly nights and days ran together. Soon, she had lost track of weekdays verses weekends. She gauged her sleep and daily routines on the whims of the sun and weather. Early fall was always a sketchy time of year for that " with evenings drawing in closer and nights getting brisk. She learned to make the most of daylight hours by shopping for supplies she could bring with her to the mill. Candles, canned foods, and blankets were the most important. Things like the tub of cool aide she kept behind her pillow were luxuries.

To wash up, Peyton had made a habit of sneaking into a local Comfort Inn hotel in the early morning hours. She knew if she timed things right, the maids and people at the front desk were so busy with setting up the continental breakfast and checking guests out that she could easily sneak past them to the indoor swimming pool. There, she'd shower in the bathroom, always sure to grab bagels and fruit on the way out.

She washed her clothes in the hotel bathroom with cheap hotel soap that was always freshly laid out " almost as if just for her. She lounged in the sauna while her clothes dried in a stall she'd lock and then climb under to get out. On her most brave days, or when the hotel was particularly busy, she'd sit by the pool and write in her journal just to pass the time. She dried her hair and clothes with the powered hand dryer and always kept her fingers crossed that no one would ever catch on. She knew that this wouldn't last forever, that she'd eventually be spotted. But for now, the Comfort Inn was a godsend for Peyton.

***

September 14

I spent the rest of my money today on a double cheeseburger from the value menu. I am scared.

***

September 15

There are rats here. I can hear them at night. But I'm not afraid of them anymore. The rats don't scare me because they don't bother me. I can't see them but I imagine they are a friendly family of rats. These aren't the kind of rats that bite. These rats are mommy and daddy rats and they are just trying to raise their families in this friendly old mill.

I got some candles out of the trash behind that cafe today. I will be able to write in you, Mr. Journal, now at night. That will make the nights go by faster. I miss home.

***

Fighting homesickness was always a little bit easier when Peyton wore her purple sweatshirt. She'd hardly taken it off since leaving home less than a month ago. The sweatshirt, a hoodie, was plum and had black butterflies running up the lopsided pockets in front. It was oversized " an XL, when Peyton usually wore a standard medium, but it was comfortable. Peyton liked that it hid her growing stomach and liked even more that it reminded her of her mother.

Mom bought the sweatshirt for Peyton one day at the mall after her latest boyfriend had walked out on them two years ago. The boyfriend, Dennis, was nothing but an alcoholic user, as far as Peyton was concerned. He'd taken money, hope and pride from Peyton's mother, who never did understand the idea that you just can't save the world. No, Martha went through stray men the way that other women go through gym socks. She'd do her best to take them in, clean them up, and then " convinced they'd changed " would offer them everything she had. A third-shift diner waitress, Martha didn't have much of anything. And Peyton had always cringed when she brought her latest man project home, insisting he was different and that he was just a “nice man from the diner.”

Peyton knew all too well what “nice men” did to “nice girls” but never had the courage to confront her mother about it. Sitting in the hotel sauna waiting for it to dry, Peyton thought about the day her mother had taken her to buy the sweatshirt.

“I just don't know why he would up and leave like that,” her mother said, flipping through the clearance rack at Target. “I really thought we had something special. And he was doing so good with his drinking, Pey!”

Peyton rolled her eyes. “Ma, the guy was a drunk. He was looking for a free ride. That's what men do! Maybe if you stop bringing these guys home who don't have a home, then they might have something to offer you.”

“Oh, Pey! I know you are right. But I just. Well, he was so cute! He was so sweet to me. And did I tell you about how he used to flirt with me when I brought him his pancake stack? He always got the pancakes with extra strawberries. How could I have just left him there, knowing he didn't have anywhere to go?”

“Ma! He had plenty of places to go! He just didn't want to have to deal with those places! With you, these guys can just sit around and smoke weed and watch TV all day! Don't you see that?”

“He didn't smoke weed!”

Peyton rolled her eyes again.

“He didn't!”

“Yes, Ma. He did. I swear you need to get your nose checked! That one! I like that one!” Peyton's eyes grew wide when she spotted the cheery sweatshirt.

“Ya? You think? I like it too! But it's not your size!”

“Who cares! I love it! Can I have it Mom? It's only $19.99.”

“Sure, baby. You can have it. Throw it in the cart. I'll take you to dinner before I go on shift. You want some apple pie?”

***

September 16

I am going to go to the clinic in the morning. I'm hoping they will be able to help me figure out what to do. I keep thinking about the baby growing inside of me and I want to hate it. I want to hate him or her for being Jimmy's. But how can I hate an innocent baby? Sometimes, I wonder what my baby will look like. Will it be a boy or will it be a girl? I don't know what I would name her. (Have I mentioned, I want a girl?)

***

Deborah O'Brien sat at her cluttered desk with her head in her hands. She'd seen it too many times. Another teenage runaway. And this Peyton “Smith” " as the girl had claimed her last name had been " was no different. If she could count the number of “Smith's” and “Jane's” who walked into the clinic on a thousand hands in a month, she'd be lucky. She sighed, gathering her ragged notebooks and files in her arms for her board meeting.

The clinic closed early on Tuesday afternoons for these meetings. Here, social workers would discuss their case loads " the girls they'd met and the resources that may be able to help them. She knew she'd be taking quite a bit of time with this Peyton.

Perhaps it was the girl's big brown eyes that mirrored her own. Or maybe it was the way she'd shyly smiled and fidgeted, explaining that she had just peed and that she was sure she didn't need a pregnancy test to verify what she already knew. But whatever it was, Deborah felt particularly drawn to the gawky girl with the purple glasses.

It was well after four before the three other case managers and she'd gathered in the tiny conference room. Each shared the same look of exhaustion " a weathered smile they exchanged as if to say, “we're doing our best” or “you can't save the world.”

“How many do you have, now?” Diane was the first to ask.

“I'm up to thirty. And that's not counting the ones we talked about last month,” Deborah spouted.

“I've got twelve,” Lisa said.

“Twenty, here,” Barbara pitched in.

“Wow. This is getting worse. What is going on out there?” Deborah couldn't help but ask.

“Don't get me started! If those dam right wingers would pull their heads out of their asses, they may be able to see what's going on out there!” Diane growled. “I tried to talk to the principal at the high school again today. Got nowhere. Big surprise!”

“Has anyone mentioned this to Doctor Obtrowski? I mean, maybe she's got some ideas? Maybe they'd listen if they knew they were dealing with a doctor?” Barbara loosened her collar, reaching for her Starbucks coffee and motioning toward the clock. “I bet we could give her a call now. The school's still open.”

But Deborah, the oldest in the bunch, had been around long enough to know that the schools in Troy weren't all that concerned about what anyone had to say " medical school or not. “No, we're going to have to go about this some other way. I just had another one today. She just left. Poor little thing couldn't have been more than 15. Said she's happy about it. Said she was just here for the parenting classes. Poor thing looked scared to death.”

Lisa sighed. “I know. I had one just like that yesterday. Where are these kid's parents?”

The group began brainstorming ways to get the word out. Teen pregnancy was at an all time high in the area and the numbers weren't looking hopeful. It seemed that each new day brought with it another scared, pregnant girl. And they were only getting younger.

The sex education programs they'd implemented throughout the community, the workshops they'd held for teen mothers, the speeches to other high school students by teen mothers, and the free condoms they put all over town seemed to be having no impact at all. Drop out rates were soaring, despite their alternative schooling program for teen mothers. And the local abortion clinic? Well, that was just bursting. Girls were waiting nearly a six weeks just for an appointment.

“I just don't know how to help them anymore,” Deborah sighed. “They lie to me and I can't even figure out what to believe! I've got kids saying they are happy to be pregnant! They tell me not to call their parents. They tell me they are going to live these dreamy lives with their 'prince charming's.' They give me dirty looks if I even mention the word abortion. And then they look to me for free diapers! I don't know how to get the message into their heads. Having a baby is not an easy thing!”

“I know how you feel. I'm counseling one of mine through an abortion right now. Half the time, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. I almost want to say, 'if you're going to live in dreamland, then so be it. I can't help you.' It's definitely frustrating.”

It was true. No amount of training, no bachelors degree, and no social worker's license was enough to prepare them to do what they did every day. Nothing could train you to help a girl decide what choice to make. Every girl came in looking for the same thing " a quick fix. A solution or a fantasy. And the truth was, none of those existed. Deborah knew it. She knew it well.

***

September 20

Hello, Mr. Journal. A lot has happened. I went to the clinic and a woman named Debbie gave me a pregnancy test. I felt weird peeing on a stick with her outside the door. I couldn't pee without turning the water on. The place was really nice though. They had all kinds of information about adoption and about being a teen mother. I still haven't made up my mind...

I called Mom and she is furious. She wants me to come home now. She thinks I'm out partying with friends. I wonder what she'd think if she knew where I was. I haven't talked to anyone but the woman at the clinic and a boy named Calvin who I met on Elliot Street the other day. I'd kill to be out partying and not living in this dumpy mill.

Debbie asked me where I was living. I think she knows. I told her I was living with my grandmother. She doesn't have to know any different. It's none of her business. I also told her that Calvin was the baby's father. I think she might hate me or think I was gross if I told her about Jimmy.

***

September 23

Calvin is just AMAZING! He said he'd come to live with me at the mill. Last night, he brought pizza here and we had a great time talking until it was really late. I never talked to a boy for so long. He didn't even try to touch me. It was the first night in a long time where I didn't feel lonely. I introduced him to the rats. He laughed and wasn't scared at all.

I wish I could bring Calvin to meet Mom. I miss her so much. I'm afraid to call her again because I know she will just yell at me. I hope that people aren't looking for me. I wish they would forget about me. I don't want to cause anyone any problems.

Maybe if me and Calvin become girlfriend and boyfriend we can get married someday and I can keep this baby and pretend it is really his. We could be such a cute little family, living in our secret little mill. I am sorry, Mr. Mill, that I called you dumpy before. You know I love you. I really do!

***

September 28

Calvin brought me some beer. I never got drunk before. Last night, we got totally drunk. We had sex. Se is okay now anyway because I can't get pregnant when I'm already pregnant! I think it made him happy so that makes me happy! I like drinking beer. But I promised myself I would never, ever drink whiskey. And I made Calvin promise me that he wouldn't do it either.

I am going to the clinic again in the morning because they have clothes that will fit me better. I am sad about getting fat. I guess I should be fat. The doctor that they sent me to (for free!) told me that I would have my baby in January. I am hoping I have him or her for New Years. I told Calvin we will have to find a warmer place to stay soon.

I miss my friends at school. I wish I could tell them all about Calvin. I wish I could take him to the homecoming dance. That's usually the first week of October. It sucks that we won't be able to go to that together. I bet Calvin would look really cute dressed up...

***

She knew writing a letter was probably the best way to go. Peyton had always been better putting her feelings into words on paper. Words on paper had an interesting way of talking back to you, reminding you that whatever you were feeling or saying had importance.

She rubbed her growling stomach, and began.

Dear Mom,

I don't know how to start this letter. I don't know what to say to you. I guess I should start with saying I am sorry for making you worry about me. I didn't mean to just leave like that. I love you very much and I know how much you hate to worry.

It makes me sad that you think I have been out here partying. I don't party.

I left because I am pregnant. There, I said it.

I am scared that you are going to hate me. I am scared that you will think I'm a looser and that I have ruined my life. Maybe I have.

But the good news, Mom, is that I have met a boy! His name is Calvin and he loves me and my baby! He wants to marry me someday and be a dad to my baby. I wish you could meet him.

Maybe someday, when you understand all of this, you can meet him and my baby too. I hope I have a girl and that she will be like you.

I love you forever and I am okay. I promise. I know I am going to be a good mom. Just like you!!!

Love Always,

Peyton

Peyton imagined the letter her mother might write back. Knowing she'd never have the courage to send the letter she'd just written, she turned to her journal to write herself a response:

Dear Pey-girl,

I got your letter today and I am so glad to hear that you are doing well. I have been very worried but I'm not mad at all. I'm totally excited to be a grandmother and I can't wait to meet your little one. I miss you, Pey-girl. I want you and the baby to come home and live with me. I want you and Calvin to both live with me.

Jimmy and I broke up and you guys could move into your old room in the back again. I made him move all of his weights out of there before he left. I know he was mean to you and that he drank too much. I am sorry, Peyton. I didn't mean to make a bad choice. I don't want anything to do with him ever again.

I want us all, you, the baby, Calvin, your sister, to live together again and be a big happy family. I want to spoil your little girl (I just know you are going to have a little girl as pretty as you) rotten! We can find a way to get you back into school and I can help you take care of her.

Please come home, baby. Mommy misses you.

Love,

Mom

Peyton closed her journal. She knew that letter was exactly what her mother would not say. She knew there was no getting rid of Jimmy. She knew her mother would demand an explanation as to who the father was. She knew that he mother had had an abortion when she was 16 and would want Peyton to do the same. She'd been telling her, from as early on as she could remember, that having a child too young meant for a hard " a very hard " life.

Peyton wiped a tear from her eye, pulled her sweater close around her, looked out the weather to figure out the time, and wondered where Calvin was. It was getting late. He should be back to the mill, with supper, at any time.

The mill seemed colder tonight. Peyton wasn't sure if it was because Calvin wasn't here to keep her warm, or if it was just the brisk nature of things at the end of September. She tried to make rings with her breath in the cold air while she waited for him to return. Where could he be?

She knew he'd planned to get them dinner with the money he'd earned panhandling the day before on Roxbury Street. She was secretly hoping for Chinese. On Thursdays, after Mom got paid, she always brought home a poo-poo platter and fried rice. They were Peyton's favorites. She wondered if her baby would grow up to love Chinese food as much as she did.

Nothing Peyton did to keep warm seemed to help. The collection of blankets, jackets, and pillows she'd acquired for the mill didn't seem to be holding in her body heat the way they had on other nights. She had no interest in writing anything more in her journal tonight and was beginning to worry about how low the candles were getting. She blew her favorite one " a cucumber melon scent, out, hoping to save it until Calvin arrived.

It was well past midnight by the time Peyton awoke. She had learned quickly to gauge time quite accurately by the way the sky and stars looked at night. She rolled over the pile of ski jackets she'd buried herself in and reached for Calvin. Squinting in the moonlight from the windows, she could see he was no there. She jumped.

Where is he? Is he okay? Her stomach growled. She looked down at her hands, numb from the cold, and tried to move her fingers. They stung of cold and the hard sleep she'd just had. The rat family was here. She could hear them moving about behind the old forklift parked in the far end of the mill. She slide deeper into her own corner, letting the tears spill from her eyes and sucking down the salt.

Peyton spent the night that way " alone in the mill and freezing. She was hungry and she was cold. With her arms wrapped tight around her stomach, she rocked back and forth, singing out loud to her baby. She sung a song her mother used to sing to her, Mockingbird. But despite her best attempts to tell herself that everything was alright, Peyton was becoming increasingly aware that something had to change. And fast.

She simply could not continue to stay at the mill. And she had to find Calvin. Of course, there was no use even thinking about doing this until morning. But she knew that, come sunlight, she needed to figure out a plan so that she wouldn't have to spend another night alone and cold at the mill.