Wild

1. Annette’s Last Day

I didn’t want to wake up, but I had to. I could hear my roommate Carmela making noise in the kitchen. This was my last day. I was nearly out of money and only had enough for a Greyhound ticket back to Des Moines.

I couldn’t afford to stay any longer and she needed help with the rent. Over the last few days she had shown my room to several prospects and I knew somebody would move in tonight. The economy wasn’t doing well and she was relying on a roommate to supplement her own income.

I had liked the flat the moment I had seen it for the first time. It was in a large five-story apartment building built around the turn of the century. Because the flat was on the top floor it had stunning views over the City, which was one of the reasons why it wasn’t exactly cheap. There were two bedrooms, one bathroom and a large eat-in kitchen as well as a nicely appointed living room. The only drawback was there was no terrace or balcony.

I loved the old style feel of the place, the crown moldings, the old door knobs, the retro light switches. Naturally not everything really worked in an old flat like this. The water pressure in the shower left much to be desired, and some of the windows were painted shut. The wooden floor creaked in many places and the heating system was trial and error. All in all though the place was charming.

Reluctantly I swung my legs out of bed. My hair was a mess and I knew my eyes would be bloodshot. I had been crying a lot, because I was sad to leave San Francisco.

I looked around. There wouldn’t be too much to pack. I didn’t have more than two suitcases worth of stuff, mostly clothes.

A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Annette, it’s getting late,” Carmela reminded me.

“I’m up. I’m up.”

“I still have to clean the room.”

I wondered how many hours it would take to get from San Francisco to Des Moines. Would it be enough to forget all my disappointments, all my failures? Why was it so hard?

I had tried everything: waiting tables, cleaning homes, participating in medical trials, dog walking, anything where I could earn some money. And still it was never enough. The City was expensive and I couldn’t find a foothold. I couldn’t find a decent job which would pay enough to survive. I sure had tried. Now it was time to concede.

There wasn’t much back for me in Des Moines either. I knew I could move into my aunt’s house again. Of course everybody at home would laugh at me.
Thought she could make it on her own, in San Francisco of all places,
I could hear their voices already.

I dreaded the thought of returning to Iowa. My aunt really didn’t want me around, but since she had promised my parents to take care of me if anything ever happened to them, she was stuck with me. She had probably never thought she would ever be taken up on her promise or that something would happen to my parents so soon.

I grabbed my towel off the chair and went to the bathroom. The hot water felt good. I wished it could have lasted longer, but Carmela had obviously already had her shower and then done the dishes. There wasn’t enough hot water left for me to stay too long.

Great!

This day didn’t start well. It was better to get it over with soon. I looked into the mirror and started blow drying my long hair. It was so thick it took quite a while for it to get completely dry. But I didn’t want to cut corners, since with my luck it could be cold outside.

I went back to my room and got dressed. My jeans would be quite comfortable for the trip. A plain cotton t-shirt was easy enough to go with it, and then my favorite red sweater, just in case it was cold.

I called Greyhound only to find out there had been a schedule change and the coach I had to be on was leaving after nine o’clock in the evening. While this gave me lots of time until I had to say goodbye, I would have to still get out of this place much earlier.

I started packing and it didn’t take long to fill my suitcases with my belongings.

The smell of coffee permeated through the flat, so I went into the kitchen. Carmela was busy cleaning the counter.

“Hey,” I said and poured myself a cup.

“My new roommate is coming at noon.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past ten o’clock. “I have to be at the office at one. Hank’s on vacation and his vacation coverage from the Sacramento Medical Examiner’s Office will be coming in the afternoon.”

“I thought you were off today.”

“So did I. I got paged. They’re bringing in another stiff and Jeremiah called in sick - again. Guess I have no choice. I’d better get going.”

She darted toward my room, cleaning liquid and duster in hand. I opened the fridge and poured some milk into my coffee mug. I needed to eat something. Cereal or eggs? I decided on both. That way I could skip lunch.

I fixed my breakfast and took it into the living room. The TV was on. Carmela normally turned it on as soon as she got up and would leave it on all day for background noise as she called it. I was happy about the distraction it gave me.

“What’s with all the paper stuff you left in the room?” Carmela called from behind me. I turned to see what she meant. She held up a stack of flyers for clinical trials for which human guinea pigs were needed.

“Just throw them out. I don’t need them anymore.” I paused. “Unless you want to participate in any of those clinical trials. Some of them pay decently.”

Carmela hesitated for a moment. The thought of making some extra money probably pleased her. She spent quite a lot on going out and loved buying new clothes.

“Maybe I will,” she mumbled and put the flyers onto the coffee table before returning to my room.

Our goodbyes were short. She hugged me and wished me all the best. I slung my handbag over my shoulder and dragged my luggage downstairs. There was a bus stop only a block and a half down the street. It wasn’t easy to lift both my suitcases into the bus. Luckily the bus driver was in a good mood and patient with me. I flashed him my Fastpass and got in.

As the bus was making its way through traffic, stopping on every other block, I looked out the window. I didn’t mind the time it took to get to Transbay Terminal where the Greyhound terminal was located. I had lots of time to kill and nothing in particular to do.

It was a foggy day. Just as well. It would make it easier for me to leave.

Don’t get sentimental now.

I would go back to Des Moines and could probably get my old job at the zoo back. I liked working with animals. They were so much easier to deal with than humans.

I loved watching the wild cats they kept at the zoo, the mountain lions especially. They had more elegance and grace about them than I had seen in any other animal. Whenever I looked into their amber eyes, I felt like they were trying to talk to me. Sometimes I had the feeling I could even sense their emotions.

Funny, with most humans I couldn’t even tell the simplest things like whether they liked me or not. At the party the night before I had been caught by surprise at how little the guy I had been dating a few months earlier actually liked me. We had broken up more than three months ago and when I saw him again at the party he had been not just unfriendly, but downright nasty, making fun of me in front of his new squeeze. There were no hard feelings from my side and I sure wasn’t pining for him or anything like that, but being made fun of in front of a bunch of other people nevertheless had brought tears to my eyes.

“Last stop!” The bus driver’s voice jerked me out of my daydreams.

I looked up. Transbay Terminal was an old run down building in the South of Market district framed by Mission Street in the North and Howard Street in the South. Right next to it, a brand new condominium project was being built. They called it the Millennium Tower. It was a shiny, all glass building with sixty stories. Only the rich would be able to afford to live there. I had heard they had started selling some of the units already even though the building wasn’t going to be ready for occupancy for another few months.

When I entered the terminal building with my two suitcases in tow, I looked around quickly. Somewhere there had to be some lockers. I found them easily enough. Lots of them were empty. I shoved both my suitcases into a large one, then slipped the key into my jeans pocket and looked for the ticket counter.

Only one counter was open and I got in line. There were five people in front of me and it seemed to take forever until it was my turn.

“One way to Des Moines, please.”

The agent typed something into her computer. “Two hundred and nineteen dollars please,” she said without looking away from the screen.

I swallowed hard. It was much more than I had calculated on their website.

“Are you sure that’s right?”

She looked at me then pointed toward the sign in the bottom right of her window.

Fuel surcharge,
it read.
Effective May 1, 2008 a fuel surcharge of 22% will be added to all tickets issued for Greyhound buses.
Today was May 2
^nd
.

Oh no!

I checked my wallet and counted fast. I had two hundred and twenty dollars left. Enough for the ticket, but it wouldn’t leave me anything for food for the almost two days it would take me to get to Des Moines.

“Are you going to buy the ticket or not, Miss?” she asked impatiently.

“Yes, I’ll take it.”

I had no choice. I gave her the money and took the ticket. A single dollar remained in my wallet.

“Next!”

I walked away from the window. The severity of my situation hit me instantly. If I breathed in, I knew I would cry, so I held my breath. It didn’t last long. I needed some air and started to run. As I got outside the cold fog hit my face and I knew tears had already started streaming down my face.

I wasn’t sure how much more bad luck I could stomach. I blindly stepped off the sidewalk only to be pulled back by somebody as a bus almost swiped me.

“Are you crazy? Do you want to end up in the hospital?” the man shouted. I turned and stared at him without really seeing him. I didn’t answer. That was it: the hospital!

I still had my Fastpass and could ride on any Muni bus without paying. The number six bus heading to Parnassus was about to depart, but I ran and the driver saw me and opened the doors again.

I jumped in showing her my pass before letting myself fall into an empty seat. This time the bus couldn’t go fast enough for me. The stops on Market Street felt like an eternity. It didn’t go much faster riding through Haight Ashbury. Finally we turned onto Parnassus and headed up the hill.

As so often UCSF Medical Center on Parnassus was engulfed in dense fog, much denser than downtown. The wind blew strongly and made it at least ten degrees colder than downtown. I shivered in my sweater and wished I would have taken the time to take my jacket out of my suitcase.

Don’t be such a wimp!

I hurried along Parnassus stopping at every light pole tearing down any flyers for clinical
trials I could find. Then I headed into the Nursing café which I knew had a large bulletin board. I scanned it quickly and took down any flyers which were promising.

Just around the corner was a house phone. Excellent – I could dial all internal numbers without paying a cent. I went to work only calling for those clinical trials which paid cash immediately. I knew the University’s system well. If payment was by check, I would have to wait at least three weeks. I needed a study which paid me in cash today.

The first two I called were full and didn’t enroll any more patients. I was lucky on the third try.

“Actually, right now is fine. I’m still here for an hour, so just go to our clinic and I’ll meet you there. Ask for Elaine,” the clinical trial coordinator chirped.

I headed across the street again and entered the Ambulatory Care Center building. The elevator was packed and stopped at every floor. Finally the doors opened on the sixth floor and I got out. I didn’t even look which department I went to, but just followed her directions to the check-in desk.

“I’m here for Elaine,” I announced to the person behind the desk.

“Name,” the male assistant said bored without looking up.

“Annette Pearson.”

He dialed a number.

“Elaine. Annette Patterson is at the reception.”

I wanted to correct him, but he stopped me by holding his hand up in a prissy manner and giving me a reprimanding look.

“Ok,” he answered into the receiver. He put the phone down and pointed toward the end of the hall.

“Last door on the left.”

“Thanks.”

As I entered I briefly wondered whether I should have knocked at the door. Elaine was sitting at a desk in an anteroom to another office, whose door was ajar. She greeted me warmly. She was a woman in her forties. Her hair was tied back in a low pony tail and she wore glasses.