*
They spent the next few weeks piling more branches and brush around our camp to conceal us a little better, obtaining an egg-carton case for the victim to sleep on and a few other things that were needed to get ready for the new wife. I wondered if he was going to cable her up like he had done to me, but Mitchell explained that he had reached the next level of faith and righteousness. Having reached this plateau of virtue, he’d be able to keep her in the camp by his pure force of will.
I was left out of the preparations. Clearly, they didn’t trust me. Which made me very happy. No way was I going to help them. No way was I going to be a part of this. I would have felt like a cannibal preparing the fire for cooking their next meal if I had been forced to help them in their preparations for this despicable act.
30.
Throw Away My Christmas
Mitchell spent most of the next few weeks preparing for his new captive. It was all he thought about, all he talked about, the only thing on his mind. It drove me crazy how he always referred to her as his new wife. She isn’t a wife, she is a casualty! I wanted to scream. Watching him, I was reminded again that the evil inside him would never be satisfied. He was fire. There was no water. As long as he was living, he would always want more. Someone new. Someone younger. Someone more beautiful.
December rolled along and pretty soon it was almost Christmas. For being such deeply religious people, Mitchell and Barzee didn’t seem that excited about the birth of Jesus Christ. They did, however, view it as another chance for a good meal.
Christmas morning dawned cold and gray. Mitchell knew there’d be lots of people lined up for Christmas dinner, so we headed down to San Diego early. After stepping off the metro, we walked to the large convention center. It looked like every homeless person in the city had come for Christmas dinner. The line stretched out of the building and down the block. We got in line and waited. Thinking of the food, my stomach started growling. I was weak from hunger. I had been hungry since our arrival in California.
It never did warm up, and by the time we got into the building I was tired and cold. We continued moving along the line and eventually ended up in a large convention hall. We were greeted by one of the volunteers, who told us to sit down at one of the long tables. Looking around, I realized that most of the helpers were young women, many of them about my age. It was one of those moments that really struck me, sending a pain into my heart. What has happened to me? I thought. What has happened to my life? That should be me! I should be one of those girls who are serving the food, not sitting here at the table, waiting to be served. I’m not really homeless! I have a family. They love me. They miss me! They want me back!
I was glad that I had on my veil, for it helped to hide the tear that was sliding down my cheek.
A couple of the young women brought us our food. I was so hungry. I was so grateful. It was the best thing I had eaten since our homeless Thanksgiving meal. I ate until I was full, then watched Mitchell wolf his food down. He cleaned off his plate, scooping up every drop of gravy, then asked for more. I was kind of embarrassed, but Mitchell didn’t care.
After dinner, we started walking around downtown. The streets were almost deserted and we didn’t really have anywhere to go. I didn’t care. I was just grateful to be out of the fire swamp. Rounding a corner, a young black man came up to us. “Merry Christmas!” he said as he handed each of us a small, handheld radio. Mine was pink with matching headphones. He smiled at me, then walked away. I looked down at my radio. I couldn’t believe it! I thought it was the best present I had ever been given. Nearly overcome with joy, I put the earphones in my ears and turned the dial, searching for some music that I would recognize, something that would connect me to my former life.
I found a station that was playing Christmas carols: Karen Carpenter’s “Merry Christmas Darling” and then “Winter Wonderland.” Both of the songs reminded me of my mom.
Listening to the holiday music, I realized that the seasons had changed without me. The world had gone on. Things had changed. My school friends had gone on without me. Life had continued on without me. But still, I was so happy to have the music. I wanted to sing along, but I knew I couldn’t. Mitchell would hate that. So I listened and enjoyed in silence.