Fuck. She’s not wrong.
“I… I said the wrong thing to him, but I didn’t want him to go. Is there anything—anything—that would increase my likelihood of finding him? I… I’m going crazy with the thought of him out on the streets right now. Even if he can’t stand me, I need to at least make sure he’s able to access his money so he can find a place to live.” I’m fumbling my words and my wallet, taking out every bill I have and shoving them inarticulately into her hands.
She contemplates the cash, smoothing out the bills and folding them neatly before putting them into her clamshell purse. “I’m not doing this for the money, but I am going to take it because you fucked up and should pay a price.”
After giving me the world’s judgiest up-down, she checks her surroundings, as though she wants to make sure that no one sees her talking with us. Lowering her voice a bit, she says, “He’s a smart kid, knows that he can’t be out here alone when it’s this cold. If he hasn’t gotten himself a sugar daddy—and believe me, that was my first suggestion—then he might try to join up with some of the other groups who stay together under overpasses and in the greenbelt areas, if you know where to look.”
We exchange a few more details, and Roly and I hop back in the truck. We hit up every underpass along I-35 and Mopac, along with some of the more well-known encampments, asking anyone who’ll talk with us, and no one has seen him.
The homeless encampments, of course, are way worse than ARCH. At ARCH there’s food, there’s running water, there’s heaters in the winter, AC in the summer. Access to some kind of healthcare, both mental and physical. These encampments in these various little patches of underpass and wood… the people there are holding on to the edges of society with their fingertips, but only if you imagine that their fingernails had already been bitten to the quick and were bloodied.
By the fifth encampment Roly and I come across, I’ve already called 911 twice because someone wasn’t moving. We got fussed at by Morris and others for closing the gym early, but we can’t function without Elijah. Actually, I’m sure if I’d told Morris why we were closed, he would have joined us.
Driving along, daylight bleeding out fast and early in the winter sky, I start to wonder if I’ll ever actually be able to do the right thing. I look over at Roly, who is my ride-or-die despite what I’ve done to him, and I can’t account for it, save for that fact that Roly puts family above all else. Maybe I should just let Elijah disappear into the wind. It’s entirely possible that homelessness is somehow less horrible than whatever it is I do to a person.
“Stop it. Stop it right now. Whatever you’re thinking, just… don’t.” Roly sears me with his gaze, staring me down until I’m forced to drop my eyes.
“I’m just… I’m not good for people, Roly-man. No matter how hard I try, I fuck people over. I’m just… fucking worthless.”
Roly thumps my forehead, hard. “What the fuck are you talking about, dude? What the hell is Wrecked if not a one hundred percent net positive for the service members who come to us? If it were just up to me, it’d be a nice idea I had that one time. You are the one who made it a reality. You are the one who said we could get things done faster with angel investors. You are the one who put himself out there as our poster boy so that people could see we were serious. So, stop it with that worthless shit. You’re pissing me off.”
My face scrunches at the thought of… fuck, everything, and a pushy tear finds its way down my face.
His lip snarls, incredulous. “Are you kidding me? Don’t tell me that you’re still carrying around Afghanistan in there.” Roly taps my head for emphasis.
I chance a look in his direction, guilt consuming me.
“Ah, fuck, Nick. Those three days don’t define my life. They didn’t even do that much to me, just fucked with my head a little bit. You were dying; I would have given those assholes a year, fifty years, if it meant I didn’t have to ride with you in the cargo hold. Three days was nothing.Nicolás,” he says, using my full name. “You have to know that by now.Tell me you know that by now.”
“I know you say that. But, god, what you must think of me.” The tears really won’t stop coming, and I’m trying so hard.
“You? I’m the big damn hero here. Let’s focus on me, you fucking head case.” He thumps my head again for good measure and sits quietly as my tears crest and slow. His genuine smile and the sincerity in his eyes heal a little bit more of the gnawing void in my chest. I nod, and he palms the back of my head, affection and love in the gesture.
He reads the shift in me and nods his head, as if to signal that the discussion on that is closed. “You also have to stop beating yourself up about Elijah. I mean it—if we find him, this martyr guilt thing you’ve got going on will kill whatever chance you have of getting him back. You’ve got to forgive yourself, because that cross you like to impale yourself on is a real boner killer.”
I know he’s trying to make me feel better, but my eyes burn at the words I’d said. “Oh god, Roly. You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what I’d said. I didn’t mean to, but I asked him if he was sleeping with me in order to get a bed at night. I can’t take it back. All I can remember are those eyes looking at me, afraid of my judgment, and as soon as I said it… wham. Like a garage door closing, steel on concrete.”
“Here’s the thing,primo. You said the wrong thing, and he took it the wrong way. You weren’t asking if he was a hooker. You were trying to tell him that you would have helped him without any obligation.”
I nod. Truly, that’s what I was trying to do. Truth be told, I was so gone over him that even if he were in it just for the support or shelter or money, I would have given it to him. He could’ve asked me for so much more, and I would have opened my wallet and given it to him.
But he didn’t ask for anything. Just my affection. And I still managed to fuck that up.
* * *
Elijah
Life in a pup tent under the trees wouldn’t be so bad if it hadn’t been so goddamned cold, but I couldn’t see bothering Rob and Harvey again. I’m not even sure if they still consider me a friend.
I can’t believe he asked that of me.
I’ve worked so hard. I’ve workedso hardto not ask anyone for anything. To minimize. I’ve doneeverythingthey say you’re supposed to do to get out of a bad situation. And to have him ask me that… The number of times I refused those kinds of advances, the number of times I had to evade bigger guys who weren’t taking no for an answer…fuck him. I’ve given up way too much to be asked that damned question. My phone died yesterday, and I’m glad his messages have stopped coming in. My paycheck hits my account tomorrow, and after that I’m gone. I had an apartment on the hook, but fuck that. I don’t know where I’m going, but it’ll be as far away from this place as possible.
Fuck, I’m so cold.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nick
