Chapter Five

Here’s the next chapter of Lost and Found. I’ll try to get one more up for you this week, but then I’m gone for the next week for a trip to Michigan to visit my son and grandson over the weekend. Then it’s off to Vermont for a week. Again, I’m looking for more readers, so spread the word around to your contacts. — Thank you!

Be well — Be in peace,

Ron Rink
=============================================

The following Monday, my mother went off to the church to do her organ practice.

As soon as she was gone, I went up to the attic to see if I could find something to carry extra clothes and food in, something I could easily carry and would keep things dry if I had to leave it outside sometimes. I found an old brown leather satchel tucked way back behind some boxes. It was really scuffed up and the handles on it were all worn, but I guessed from the way it had been stored it wouldn’t be missed. After I brushed the dust off I could see some of the leather was worn away, but I figured if it rained it would still keep the things inside of it dry.

I grabbed my raincoat, some sweaters, overalls, underwear and socks from my bedroom and tucked them into the satchel. I got my money (I had almost fifteen dollars) and stuck it in my pants pocket. Then I took some beans, peas and jam my mother had canned from down in the basement fruit cellar and put those into the satchel along with the clothes. I cut a couple of pieces of rope from a long length of rope my father had in the basement and used those to tie the satchel to my bike.

My memory of the moment I rode my bike down the driveway and headed north seems to hold little more than a clear recollection of the excitement I was feeling. I don’t believe I was feeling regret or worry—I was just excited to actually be doing it—I was running away from home! No matter what mood my father happened to be in when he came home from work that night, I wasn’t going to be there for him to beat on. I do know I didn’t think about how my parents were going to feel. My mind was already in a place where I believed they didn’t care much anyway, so I never gave their feelings a second thought.

I do remember it was sunny and warm and I felt like I was literally flying down the road on my way to freedom.

I knew I wouldn’t be missed at home until five o’clock in the afternoon, so I decided to work my regular shift at the bowling alley. I’d be able to keep all the money I made for myself and I could sure use it. I had a little over an hour before I had to be at the bowling alley for my shift, so I just took my time and enjoyed a leisurely ride out along Nine Mile Road and then over to Dequindre and back down toward the bowling alley. I enjoyed the sense of freedom knowing I wasn’t going to go home after work.

Later that afternoon I told Billy what I had done. He wasn’t surprised.

“Billy,” I asked, “do you think I should sneak in the back door tonight or should I just come in through the front?”

“You better use the back door. It’s dark back there and you can just stay back behind the alleys. No one will pay any attention to you. It’s really busy at night and the guys won’t have time to even notice you. Just go right back into that far corner after the last alley and hunker down. Nobody ever goes back there.”

The corner Billy was talking about was in a space beyond where the last alley ended. It must have had something to do with the way the building was constructed because there was this strange little nook tucked back in the corner. It was dark there — hardly any of the light from the alleys seemed to penetrate. I had never been back there myself, and had never seen anyone go there. It was only about six or seven feet long and two or three feet wide. I looked back there from the alley I was working and couldn’t see anything other than blackness. It made me feel a little nervous while at the same time reassured me I could duck in there without anyone seeing me.

“I probably won’t be able to come to work tomorrow,” I said to Billy as we were leaving after our shift. “If my parents or the cops are looking for me, this will be one of the first places they’ll come looking.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “There are guys who don’t show up all the time around here. We just get paid for when we’re here. There are usually a few guys just hanging out that the boss could put to work if he doesn’t have enough.”

“I thought I’d see about getting a job at the bowling alley out on Ten Mile and Ryan or maybe see if I could get some money by helping out where the new racetrack is going.”

“If the cops get involved, they might check other bowling alleys around here. You might want to stay away from there,” he suggested.
=================================================