RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter Seven
Rose awoke to see the sun streaming through a
dirty window. Rising, she stretched, working the kinks out of her muscles. Yawning,
she rummaged through her bag, still tired, but eager to leave this place before
anymore men mistook her for a whore.
Quickly, Rose straightened her clothes and
brushed her hair, running her fingers through it and checking for lice. The bed
linens looked as though they hadn't been changed in quite some time.
Picking up her bag, Rose left the room and
headed down the hall. No one was around except for a drunk passed out at the
top of the stairs. Rose nearly tripped over him in the unlit hallway.
Rose was relieved when she stepped out into
the street. The air was fresh compared to the inside of the hotel. It was
easier to ignore the odors of garbage and liquor in the morning sunlight. Rose
walked several blocks before she stopped in a small neighborhood park. Sitting
on a bench, she ate the leftovers Kathleen had given to her the day before. The
food was stale, but Rose ate it gratefully, wondering where her next meal was
coming from. Would she wind up like the other women in that hotel?
Rose rejected the idea. She would never be a
prostitute. She would rather...
Rather what? she asked herself. Go back to Cal? Life with
Cal would be worse than the life of a whore. Better to be whore to many men
than a wife to Cal.
Rose took a deep breath. She didn't want to
be a prostitute. I will only be a prostitute if it is necessary for me to
survive, she vowed.
That decided, she thought about her options.
She had a good education, but little experience in any useful trades. She could
sew a little, could cook a few simple dishes, and knew basically what was
expected of a waitress or a maid or a tutor. She didn't think that being a
ladies' maid or a tutor were really options, however. If she took a position as
a maid or tutor with one of the upper class families of the city, Cal would
undoubtedly find out before long. In addition, many of the families knew who
she was. They might wonder what she was doing, looking for a job commonly
reserved for the lower and middle classes.
She might be able to find a job as waitress,
even without experience or references. Many jobs required references, but Rose
hoped that she would be able to find one that didn't. She didn't know anyone
who would give her references.
Putting her sandwich back in her bag, Rose
got to her feet. It was time to look for a job.