“Okay. Hopefully I’ll be right back. Please don’t let anyone find her.”
Lily gave me a silly salute, but then said seriously ‘don’t worry’.
Sister Grant was waiting a few yards down the hall. At the sight of me, she continued journeying. I hung back, not needing her to guide me. The offices were near reception. It’s where the principal and vice principal used to be when this was a school.
When we entered the largest of the offices, I was surprised to find two other sisters and a poised Beta wearing head-to-toe black and thick rimmed glasses. A small white square interrupted the collar of his top. His hair was pushed to one side, covering an obvious balding patch, and his nose was sharp and slightly curved at the tip. He stood when he saw me.
“Ah, you must be Miss Fortune.” His voice was deep, gravely. It was at odds with his neat, slick wardrobe.
“Yes, I am. I don’t understand what’s going on.” I took the seat Sister Grant had pulled out for me, and I threaded my fingers together, thumbs worrying against each other furiously.
“Please don’t be alarmed, Miss Fortune. I’m Father Warren, here on behalf of Hearts Over Seattle. I’ve asked the sisters to be present simply for safety. You’re a young Omega and it’s vital we protect you.” He was so pleasant.Too pleasant. It unnerved me.
After living on the streets for twenty plus months, scavenging for food and shivering in gutters, I found that his words felt a day late and a dollar short.
“And why is that?” My voice cracked at the question. “Why would you go out of your way to come here and meet me?”
“Well, I’ll be blunt, Miss Fortune. Once your name and information entered our database, the news traveled quickly, even reaching thearchbishop of our region. Once we became fully aware of your situation, we wanted to ensure you received all the assistance we could muster.” He had his forearms resting on the table now, hands folded together as if in prayer.
“Why me?” I didn’t mince words. I knew the only reason I’d become important to anyone is if they connected my name to my family’s name. Where had these do-gooders been months and months ago? If I’d just told the good sisters my full name on days I came to eat or ask for a bed, would they have swooped in sooner to save me?
“Yes, well. Your family was so well respected, Miss Fortune. It was such a terrible blow to the community to lose them all.” He cleared his throat and then corrected himself. “Well, lose almost all. We’re truly delighted to discover you’re alive and well, though we understand why you chose to remove yourself from society.”
Ha. Alive, yes. But well? They should have seen me a few days ago.
Also, chose to remove myself from society was a pretty big stretch.
“I still don’t understand what you want.” I leaned back in the chair, forcing my thumbs to stop moving and trying to act cool and collected, when I felt anything except.
“We don’t want anything, my child. Well,” he smiled beatifically. His glasses had traveled a few centimeters down his nose now. He looked like the food critic from the cooking rat movie. “I suppose that’s not true. We do want to help you.”
“In exchange for what?” I pressed. Nothing in life was free. I still had the bandages to prove it.
The father cleared his throat and also sat back against his chair, mirroring my pose. “The church could use a little good PR,” he finally admitted. “Helping the orphaned Omega of the beloved Fortune pack will go a long way.”
That was the other shoe dropping. They wanted me to be their poster girl, proof of their endless Christian charity.
Sister Grant placed her hand gently on my knee. “It is simply going through our social rehabilitation program, but with a few…” she thought for a phrase, and settled on, “additional responsibilities, sweet child. And who knows what tomorrow will bring. Life can change so quickly if God wills it.” She said the last bit almost conspiratorially, like she knew something I didn’t.
“I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing to help the people who are helping me.” My chest tightened as I said, wondering how anyone could think putting me on display was anything save for performative benevolence.
“Oh, Archbishop Ryan will be so pleased,” the father nodded his head, then seemed to appraise me for a moment. “We will have to do something about your appearance. A good haircut, light makeup. Definitely some new clothes.”
I glanced down at my body, taking in the lightweight pant suit. Thanks to the pale color, it was already covered in large and small stains. I’d also been sleeping in it every night. The shoes were still intact, but I’d walked so much in them that a few of the straps hung loosely and dragged the floor. Pinching a chunk of hair, I pulled the frizzy, dry curl straight so I could examine the ends. Split city.
“We can definitely find something from our store here,” one of the Beta sisters who’d said nothing so far, piped up.
After that, the father and good sisters talked around me. I was so glad that, after ten or so minutes, Sister Grant said I could leave.
Lily, with Josie curled in her lap, was waiting on her bunk when I got back. She didn’t get up, probably not wanting to disturb the purring creature she’d safeguarded while I was briefly away.
"And?" she asked, her curiosity barely containing itself.
I sat down, perching on the very edge of the bunk as if I might, at any moment, hop up and flee the shelter. I’d wanted a bed here so badly, for so long, and I now hated it. Meeting with the priest had been like seeing the man behind the curtain, and finding out the entire performance was contrived fakery.
“They found out about my family, and they want me to be their pretty little puppet they pull out to make themselves look good.” I sighed and rolled my shoulders. “I’ll be able to join the program in exchange for a good PR moment or two.”
“That’s bullshit,” she breathed out, face going slack. “I can’t believe they want to barter charity like that.”
