Minutes go by, and I catch quick glimpses of Haven running her fingers through her dew-ridden damp hair as she examines other parts of her body that must have gotten bitten by mosquitos last night. They don't bother me so much anymore, but it's worse around water, so I try to avoid sleeping close to mosquito pits like alake, this time of year. "I feel gross," she says. "And my stomach kind of hurts." Hunger pains, I'm guessing.
"Can I take you home now?" I honestly didn't think she'd make it through a night sleeping outdoors with no equipment or sustenance beyond a cheese sandwich and a couple of wafers, but she proved me wrong.
"I suppose I should avoid the search Dad will most likely send after me." She looks defeated, and I can understand. I would too. Shelter and food are important, and until they’re gone, you don't know how much you need them. I can't bear to watch her live the way I have to. "My feelings on the matter haven't changed, though."
"I didn't doubt that, Haven, but I was hoping you'd realize this homeless kind of living isn't a life you want."
There's sadness and guilt in her eyes, and it kills me to think she may be doing this or acting this way because she feels sorry for me. "I don't want you to have to sleep outside anymore," she says under her breath.
"I know." It’s all I can say.
An idea sparks through her eyes, and I'm afraid of what it might be, but she appears to be in a rush to accommodate whatever notion is filling her head. Rolling up the blanket, she leans over and grabs my backpack. "Come on. Let's go." She's up and tugging me to my feet, using strength that surprises me for a girl her size. "Hurry!"
We make it back to the truck within a few minutes, and she directs me to drive her home, but I don't know what's happening after that. I can't be caught dropping her off in front of her house after being missing all night. That man would come after me in a heartbeat.
"Drop me right here," she says as we pull around the corner of her street. "Give me an hour and come back. Okay?"
"Uh, are you sure that's a good idea?" I ask her.
"Just do it." She jumps out of the truck and jogs down the street until she reaches her driveway. Once I see she's gotten inside safely, I make a U-turn and peel out of the neighborhood before anyone sees me. God only knows, these perfectly groomed hedges lining the street probably have eyes.
I drive downtown, parking along the side of Main Street. There is less than an inch of standing water remaining on the road after last night’s storms, and with the heat already coming off the sun so early this morning, the rest of the water around town will probably dry up quickly today. Heading over to the red metal door on the small side street off of Main, I walk inside and down the narrow stairwell into the soup kitchen. "Good morning, Raine," Lenore says.
I walk across the kitchen to where she's stirring a colossal-sized pot of oatmeal, and squeeze her into a hug. "Hi," I say.
She grabs me by the chin and yanks me in closer. "Where in the world were you sleeping last night? A mosquito pit?"
I gently pull my face from her grip. "Yeah, bad move."
"I thought you were staying with a friend?" she asks as pain fills her eyes. "Raine, don’t tell me—"
"I was, but, that didn't work out so well. I had to move out a couple months ago." She reaches across the serving area and grabs a glass bowl, filling it with the oatmeal she had been stirring. "For goodness sake, Raine, why haven't you said a word to me? I've seen you every day here for weeks now. I just knew something wasn't right, but I try not to pry."
"I didn't want to worry you, that's all." Lenore's chin trembles as she pinches her lips together. Her eyes squeeze tightly, and she locks her gaze on the clumps in the oatmeal. "I promised your granddad it wouldn't be like this." Her words are so soft, yet they hurt like a punch to the gut. "Do you need a place to stay?"
"I'll be okay," I lie.
"That's bull, Raine, and you know it," she says, anger lacing her sad words.
"You hardly have space for you and Lauren. I couldn't impose like that." I take the bowl of oatmeal from her hands, feeling a load of guilt for trying not to hurt her, while at the same time obviously causing her pain. Granddad took good care of Lenore while she worked for him, but since he died, she's been serving food here, living off a small stipend the town gives her to serve the homeless every day. I guess there weren't too many housekeeping jobs available in the area—at least not ones with the flexibility she needs to have so she can care for Lauren.
"We will make space for you," she says, deliberately annunciating each word clearly. "You are like a son to me, and I will not allow you to sleep one more night outdoors. You hear me?"
Her kindness has always had a way of making my chest hurt, while making the resentment I have for my parents even stronger. How can a woman who is completely unrelated by blood love me more than my own mother did?Thatwoman couldn't love me enough to stay sober for nine months, leaving me on this earth with nothing but a side effect that is a constant reminder of her lack of love for me. "I appreciate your willingness to help," I tell her.
"Raine, look at me, honey." I do as she says, always obeying her with respect she deserves. But it’s more than respect with her. Lenore’s words are always spoken with a certain tenacity that makes me look her in the eyes and shut my mouth until she's done talking. "If you don't show up at my house tonight, I will hunt you down and drag you there myself. You hear me?"
"Yes, Ma'am." I lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek, feeling the age of her powder-scented skin that seems so much older now than it did a few years ago.
"Now go eat your breakfast before it gets cold." I take my bowl over to the nearest table, grabbing a spoon on the way. As I sit down, I glance around the small dining area and see everyone’s eyes settle on me as they always do, probably wondering how someone as young as I am ended up like this. Their assumptions likely mimic the opinions of the other people around town.I must be a drug addict, an alcoholic, or a runaway.They would never guess that I was dumped on this earth and left to rot.
