Isaac
Lisbon
“Merda!”
The swear word followed by a cloud of white powder coming from the desk opposite mine took my attention from the spreadsheet I was working on.
I couldn’t help laughing at the sight of Tiago covered in the white stuff that moments ago had been containedinside the stress ball he squeezed more often than not.
He took off his dark-rimmed glasses. His big brown eyes were the only part of his face that wasn’t covered in white.
“I told you that would happen one day,” I said, still laughing.
Tiago was shooting daggers at the remains of the ball as he got up to go toward the staffroom.
“Those fucking bigots, bastards, sons of a…” he carried on as he went through the door.
When he came back, he was wearing a different shirt and his face was now cleaneven though his nearly black hair still had some white streaks. He was swearing to himself while he cleaned his desk with more force than necessary since the light powder was flying up in the air again.
I went back to my spreadsheet, deciding to wait until he calmed down to ask him what had got him so angry.
That wasn’t until he’d left the center and come back ten minutes later with two custard tarts from a nearby café.
“What’s up, Tiago?”
“Those fuckers at the food bank. I emailed them last month to see if they’d partner up with us by supplying food for our resident kids in exchangefor volunteers to help with their soup kitchen for the homeless.”
“I thought they ignored you.”
“They did, until today when they emailed me to say they aren’t able to support our cause because they don’t agree with our lifestyle. When we start supporting the genuine kids in need of help, they will be more than happy to partner up with us.” Tiago held up his hands in quote signs when he said the word genuine.
I sighed. Tiago had been excited about his proposal to the food bank director. I thought it was a genius idea to exchange the one thing they had plenty of—food—for something we had plenty of—hands willing to help.
“I can’t say I’m completely surprised. I thought they had ties to some religious group,” I said.
“I know, but I didn’t think they’d decline to help us.” He ran his hands through his hair. That was when I noticed how tired he looked.
“Tiago, why don’t you go home? You’ve been glued to that computer all day.”
“I can’t. I have a meeting later with an agent who works with Fred. She believes she has a lead but needs more information from me.”
“On your brother?”
“Yeah.”
I saw both the hope and despair in his eyes. Tiago had been searching for his brother for years, and while his hope wavered sometimes, his search never let up for a single moment.
“Besides,” he said. “I thought you were going to David’s café to check on Bruno and see Teresa.”
Tiago was right. I was due a visit to Café Lima, but as much as I wanted to check on the young man I’d helped secure a job in my best friend’s café, I wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of seeing David’s uncle.
When my parents kicked me out at seventeen, David was the only person I could go to for help. Unfortunately, on that day as I was telling David what had happened, Mário came in the apartment and kicked me out in a barrage of homophobic slurs.
Without a place to stay, I’d ended up on the streets for the following three months. Fortunately, David found me andhid me away at his apartment until I could move out on my own.
When David had come out to his aunt and uncle earlier this summer, his uncle revealed that he’d had a long-lost younger brother that was gay. After he’d been seen kissing another man, their father had beaten him up so badly that he’d ended up in the hospital from where he’d subsequently run away.
The events somewhat explained his uncle’s behavior, but even after all these years, it was still hard to face the man that had made me homeless for the second time in one night.
