He happened to glance through the window, and he thought he saw Day talking to himself.
He looked upset too.
Goldie quickly climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind him. He checked to make sure the heat was on full blast, glancing over at Day.
Day seemed fine now, and he smiled.
“You okay, baby?” Goldie asked.
Day pointed to his headphones.
“Right. But are you okay?”
Day nodded.
Goldie thought maybe he’d imagined it, and he headed to their first stop, the soup kitchen, without further questions. Day’s hand on his thigh reassured him that everything was all right, and it was a welcome warmth as he drove through the cold city.
The roads were slushy and slick, the snow piled up on the sidewalks was gray mush, and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Even traffic was dragging more than usual, as if it was too cold to run at normal speeds. Goldie sat at a red light for so long that he wondered if it was frozen over.
The soup kitchen was located in a small building nestled behind the city library. The pitched metal roof was leftover from its early days as a chain pizza restaurant, and there was already a big line going around the block in spite of the snowy weather. Two volunteers were going up and down the line, passing out blankets, coats, and steaming mugs of what Goldie assumed was coffee or tea.
Day patted his arm and pointed to the curb, indicating for him to pull over.
“Be quick,” Goldie said when Day met his eye. “I can’t technically park here.”
Day nodded, agreeing quietly, “I’ll be quick.”
Once the car was stopped, Day hopped out and hurried up onto the sidewalk. Goldie watched him bypass the line and head right inside, and he was surprised that no one tried to stop him. He waited for a few anxious minutes, glancing around to make sure he didn’t see any cops or meter maids or whoever coming to get him for parking here illegally.
He glanced back at the soup kitchen in time to see Day coming out. Day hurried over to the car, quickly diving into the passenger seat. He shut the door and then whipped his seat belt on, waving for Goldie to take off like they were fleeing the scene of a bank robbery.
“Here we go!” Goldie laughed, pulling out a little faster than he needed to. He sped until he merged back into traffic, and he grinned. “So, how did it go?”
Day gave a big thumbs up. He rubbed Goldie’s thigh eagerly. “Good,” he replied softly. “Very good.”
“All right. On to the next!”
The youth shelter wasn’t as exciting, and there was no one standing outside except two young teenagers sharing a cigarette. They didn’t even look up when Day was coming and going, and Day’s bright smile was still shining when he hopped back in the car. It dimmed, however, as he directed Goldie to his house.
The neighborhood was old, and it appeared to be in an active state of decay. Many of the homes were falling apart and missing siding or had broken windows. Some were boarded up and clearly abandoned, their porches swallowed by the tall grass overgrown from yards littered with trash. The neglect spread to the street in a plethora of waste, and a city dumpster on the curb was filled to the brim with garbage.
The fresh snow did little to hide the debris, as much of it was broken furniture and mountains of forgotten trash bags. The street hadn’t been plowed here, and Goldie was honestly worried about running over something as he carefully navigated the cluttered, icy pavement.
Day pointed to one of the houses near the end of the row with windows that were still intact, though the yard was a veritable jungle like so many of the rest.
Goldie pulled into the driveway, and he tried not to let his concern show. He didn’t want Day to be embarrassed, especially when it was clear he was already getting upset about being here.
Day squeezed Goldie’s hand once they’d parked, and then he wordlessly got out of the car. He went not to the front porch but around the back. There was a path worn through the grass here leading to a back door. Goldie didn’t notice if Day used a key or not to open it, and he followed him inside to a small living room.
The furniture was battered, but the home was generally very tidy from what Goldie could see. There weren’t any lights, and he suspected there hadn’t been power here in a long time. He didn’t notice much in the way of personal items. There weren’t any books on the bookshelf, and no photos or paintings on the walls. Though clean, the room was practically barren.
There were, however, large squares of black foam on nearly every flat surface, from the ceiling to the walls and over the front door and windows. Goldie assumed it was some sort of sound insulation, but he decided not to ask.
“Wait here,” Day said quietly, pulling his headphones down around his neck.
“Do you need help?” Goldie asked. “With getting your stuff?”
“No.” Day shook his head. “There’s… There’s not very much.”
