by Judy Fischer
Our friendship grew stronger with time and as time went by, he became my secret friend, my brother and my confidante.
The Job
Christmas Eve I spent with my parents, as was our custom, but Christmas morning, while my parents were getting their well-deserved sleep, I snuck out of the house and went over to spend a few hours with René. My intention was to create a warm and festive time for him. He told me during one of our many evening talks that he had not made any friends from the time he fell into the desolate world of the homeless.
“There are too many young, homeless kids on the streets, Missy. Everyone has their own burdens to carry and even if I had befriended someone, there was nowhere for us to go and nothing I could offer them, anyway. Besides, I didn’t want to spend time with sad people. There are some good shelters and there are even shelters for the younger street kids. I found myself in one once and I didn’t feel as if I belonged there. Many of the clients at the shelters have chosen to live that style of life; however, I was forced to walk the streets by an unfortunate and unforeseen circumstance. If I am ever given a chance or opportunity, I will leave it in a heartbeat,” he said.
A few days before Christmas, I took a branch from my tree at home and glued some ornaments on it and dragged it over to the flat. I didn’t put any lights on it, for our evenings together was spent in the dark.
The flat had started to become very cold in late fall. The heating system didn’t work and we couldn’t call anyone to fix it. Although it became his home and my home away from home, we were not supposed to be there. I found an electric heater in a second-hand shop in late November and I bargained it down to a price I could afford. It was that heater keeping him warm all winter. The blankets and the hot tea we made helped too.
My father always gave me an allowance and lunch money. I saved every cent ever since I met René. With my savings, I bought him food and a few extras. I gave him what I could and gave up many of my own trivial indulgences.
I begged René not to sell himself to strangers for money. I had seen the scars on his body from the assault he was subjected to in the past. I knew and had often heard on the news that young prostitutes, male and female, were often the targets of human traffickers. I promised to look after his needs by using my own resources. If I had to sacrifice some of my own luxuries, I would, and I did. I was lucky to be in the kind of environment and affluence to allow me to make a promise so serious. He never asked for anything. René only wanted someone to talk to, to be with, and in return, he showed his gratitude by giving the only thing he could: mutual respect and love. It was enough for me.
He was desperate for love, not for the physical love between a woman and a man, but the love between two human beings.
The time passed quickly from winter to spring and with spring came my final exams. René and I spent many evenings cramming for my finals. I had gradually carried most of my books over to the flat. René took them to read during the days at the library. He got to know all my subjects and, thus, helped me to review and to do all the practice tests with me. Sometimes, I met him at the library and we studied together.
Our stay at the flat had gone unnoticed until one day in March, when someone from municipal hall had unexpectedly stopped by. An inspector requested the key to the upstairs apartment. As it was the year when the city was planning to revitalize the streets of downtown, sprucing up its image, all those buildings in need of repair were being given another chance to shine.
Luckily, I had made two spare keys, one for René and one for myself. The original, I had placed back into the cash drawer, under the tray, where it had always been before. Innocently, my father gave the maintenance people the key, not suspecting anything ominous.
I guess, when they entered, they were pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness and the care someone had given to it. They drew up a report and probably sent it to the landlord. I can only presume that the report was favourable, because no one ever came back again.
We were still safe in keeping it for the nights but during the days, we agreed to stay clear of it.
It became a ritual keeping the flat looking like no one lived there. It was actually quite a chore to empty everything, every morning. There was a secret trap door we had found and behind it was a crawl space we turned into a makeshift locker.
Every morning, from the beginning of his stay, René placed his bedding, his clothes and any other evidence of human presence. Also, he took out the garbage and left the flat as we had originally found it, but I must say, much cleaner.
The spring days started to bring with it a renewal of life, which happened every time after a miserably cold and wretched winter. The days became lighter for longer and we got rid of the candles at our evening meetings. With my schoolwork keeping me busy, our evening rendezvous happened less frequently. We agreed I should return to my former life, to divert people’s attention before someone discovered our hideout. We counted our blessings, no one was onto us.
My parents and my friends had already started questioning my whereabouts and after many lies, I had to accept that the only way to appease them was to resume my normal activities. It was not easy for me. I had become very attached to René. I missed our customary time together.
René eventually got a part-time job as a dishwasher in a sleazy restaurant where he managed to persuade the owner to pay his wages under the table. The owner of the restaurant was hard up for help and given his stingy wages, no one really wanted to work for him. This man however, gave him only a few hours per day of work but at least René finally felt he was a useful member of society. At 19, he still had no legal address and thus, no proof of identity. At least he finally had an income. The small stipend kept him more cheerful and more optimistic.
The numerous yearly festivals opened by June. Montreal was home to countless summer festivities and with them came the tourists and more jobs. The city was in full bloom and René’s hours were increased. The owner had come to like him well. He gave him a substantial raise and more responsibilities. The best part of being employed at that restaurant was its proximity to the flat. René had only two blocks to walk to his place of work. It was not in a good neighbourhood, but it was within an easy walking distance for him. There were many street-walkers around that part of town; many prostitutes who stood on the corners waiting for possible johns. With prosperity came the crime too.
I also found a job at the festival. I was offered a sales position at an onsite souvenir shop. I loved my whole experience during the summer and I was especially happy for René.
With both of us working, we didn’t see each other too often. I had given him my phone number many months before and I told him to call me if he ever needed to contact me, for any reason. I explicitly told him it was not just an emergency number but one he could call even if it was just to say “hi”.
As his hours at work were irregular, I didn’t go to the flat anymore. I only went there if he left a message or called me. He never did. We were too involved in our own lives. Yes, I missed him tremendously, but the time had arrived to set him free. I had mended him to the best of my ability. I couldn’t keep him as I had the wounded animals I used to care for. Furthermore, if you love someone, you must learn to set them free.
I was tired, as well, after a full day at work. Sometimes, it was a relief just to be able to go home and rest. We still saw each other from time to time and our relationship shifted toward another, more normal one.
During that summer, both our jobs kept us apart. Sometimes, on his day off, he joined me at the festival site, it being close to his place of work. He hung around until my shift was over, standing and watching all the pedestrians who passed by. Often I stared at him from afar and admired his new attitude and confidence. There was a charm about him I had not previously seen.
We walked the grounds together and discovered all the various spots of interest. There were many stages and attractions at the festival and sometimes we stayed to listen to one or more free outdo
or concerts. Many famous and not-so-famous musicians came to Montreal to participate in the popular yearly spectacle. It was a great time to be young.
We both had more money by then, thus we did some other fun things as well. We went to see a few movies. We both cried when we watched Kramer vs. Kramer, the movie that eventually ended up winning many awards at the 1979 Oscars.
On pay days when we felt extra rich, we ate out too. Some food trucks were in operation during the summer months and the quality and diversity of their menus was becoming very trendy. We were content and we finally felt optimistic about both our futures. René still had many obstacles to overcome but for the first time that summer, he was on top of the world and I loved seeing him there.
They say when things are going your way, beware, for something will most likely happen to upset the natural flow of your life. A Murphy’s Law, I think. Bad luck showed its ugly face to us in the late fall of 1979.
One night, René was walking back toward the flat following his shift. It was late. He was still using the flat as his shelter at nights. I had not planned on meeting him. I was already at home, sleeping in my comfortable bed, when my phone rang unexpectedly. Alarmed, I heard a familiar voice.
“Missy, I need you,” I heard René’s weak, trembling voice.
“Who is calling so late, Melissa?” I heard my father say as he came rushing into my room.
“A friend needs me, Dad, I must go out.” The panic in my voice must have scared him, because he went back to his room and closed the door, all the while shouting obscenities.
I dressed in a flash and left my apartment to run nonstop to the flat.
Witness
The street was deserted and the street lights were dim. I had a hard time putting the key into the lock. I was nervous, fearful and my hands were trembling, making matters worse. I ran up the steps but it was pitch black and ultimately, there was nobody there. I sat down to catch my breath but then I knew something was terribly wrong. I had to find him. I had a bad feeling in my gut. My stomach nerves always acted up when I panicked. An ailment I inherited from my mother.
I locked up and ran down the two blocks to the restaurant where he worked but the lights were out. The door was locked. I yanked on it for a while desperately hoping someone was going to come out from somewhere and open it for me. Alas, no one did. I stood around staring at people who were either hookers on the street or tourists who had ventured into the wrong part of town. Everyone was staring back at me. Then I noticed a woman who was sweeping the sidewalk in front of a hotdog joint. As a last, ditch effort, I asked her if she had seen or heard of anyone getting hurt near there. It was what I felt. I had a sense René was in terrible trouble.
“About an hour ago, I did see an ambulance leaving in a hurry,” she confessed in a hush, hush manner.
Immediately, I hailed a taxi and made my way to the Reddy Memorial Hospital. It was the closest one I could think of. I did take a chance, because there was another French hospital nearby. The ambulance could have gone to either one.
The emergency section of the hospital was crammed with people and I couldn’t see René anywhere. There were nurses rushing by me and I asked one if a young man had been brought in recently. No one could give me any straight answers, thus, I snuck into the area where they kept all the recently admitted patients. Frantically, I peeked into each and every cubicle until finally I found him. I pulled the curtain apart and slipped into the tiny room unnoticed.
“René?” I whispered, “What happened? You look terrible.”
I could see several bruises on his face and a black eye.
“René, René, talk to me,” I started to panic, as no answer came.
“Missy, Missy, I tried to stop them,” he replied. He was agitated, in shock and barely able to speak.
“Who, who did this to you?” Just then, two police officers came up behind me and pushed me aside.
“I’m sorry, miss, you will have to leave,” one of the officers looked at me and gently shoved me out of there.
Faintly, I heard from outside of the enclosure their failed attempt to interrogate him. If I heard correctly, they were trying to find out something about a crime. I listened closely for some answers to my own questions.
“Sir, you must answer. What is your name, where do you live?”
They had too many questions René could not answer without giving away his questionable status. He was not responsive anyway and at last his doctor came in to save him from the incessant queries of the police.
“I am sorry, officers, but this young man is in critical condition. You will have to come back later,” his doctor sternly told them.
As soon as they left, I snuck back in. I closed the curtains, separating us from the rest of the world, and put my hands on his hands trying to console and soothe him. He looked awful. There was dried blood on his face and hair and his wounds had not been attended to.
“René, can you talk?” I asked again out of concern. I just wanted to get him out of there as it was obvious his situation was more severe than the cuts and bruises on his body indicated. At long last, in a very weak voice, he spoke,
“I was walking back home when I saw three men grabbing a young guy. Missy, I tried to help him. I’ve seen those men before. They are always bothering the young ones on the street and, on many occasions, I’d seen them shoving them into vans, right in front of people’s eyes. Nobody cares, Missy, you can’t believe what goes on under our own eyes. The police can’t stop it, no one can. I usually mind my own business, Missy, but this time, I felt I had to do something.”
As he finished his last words, the sedative the doctor had given him earlier started to take effect and he dozed off into a deep sleep. For a second, I thought he died. His slow but steady breathing however, gave me hope for an eventual recovery.
I decided to call home to explain my abrupt exit. I decided months before that René would have my total devotion and I was not going to change my mind for anyone. Now, with this new development and reason for concern my resolve intensified. He needed me more than ever.
I hung around the hospital watching all the different people coming and going. There was one homeless young man whom the nurses knew very well. His name was Bobby and, according to them, he was a regular at the hospital. I overheard two nurses discussing his case. It appeared that on cold nights, Bobby would fake some sort of illness to be admitted through the emergency process, with the intention of getting a decent meal and spending his night in a clean, comfortable bed. They had allowed this to go on over a long period of time, ignoring the obvious deception, only to help one desperate man from going hungry. Their oversight kept him from sleeping in the cold. I vowed again not to let René ever fall into the grip hopelessness and homelessness again.
The two police officers came back and, seeing me still there, decided to talk to me instead of René.
“Miss, what is your name please?”
“My name is Melissa Drake. What is this all about, Officer?”
“Your friend was a witness to a possible kidnapping or perhaps even a homicide,” he answered in a very serious voice.
“My friend is a kind and gentle individual, sir. I’m sure he was just an innocent bystander who was at the wrong place and at the wrong time. Why do you think he was involved? There must have been other people in the area as well.”
“Yes, and they told us your friend stepped up to protect the person who was taken by those perpetrators, who were also responsible for your friend’s injuries. We need him to give us a good description of them.”
“I understand, but please, let him recuperate first. He looked quite hurt to me,” I said.
“Those men may be part of a group of suspects we’ve been tracking. They are very dangerous. You don’t want to mess with them. The sooner we apprehend them, the better.”
I waited for them to leave and then I started to panic. René was in danger. I had to do something to intervene. If he were to cooperate with the polic
e, the danger was not going to disappear either way. The law was not going to protect someone who had nothing to lose. Those thugs had the means also to go after him if they realized he could point a finger at them. I had to think of a plan to save René, from both the police and from the men who had hurt him.
I went home to talk with my parents. I had to tell them everything if I wanted their help. I crept into the house quietly, but the sound of the door opening roused them from, what I later learned, a restless sleep. I recounted the events of the past year and as they listened, I saw the hurt and disappointment on their pale faces. They had a hard time believing my story. They couldn’t believe all those events had happened behind their backs and under their noses, for over a period of one year. I am not sure if they blamed themselves for not having noticed my behaviour but I must say, they were more than displeased with the choices I had made.
They couldn’t understand or accept my lack of common sense.
“How could you have allowed a strange boy into your life? What were you thinking, Melissa? I thought you were past the ‘bleeding-heart’ stage of your life,” Carla said.
“Didn’t you think, Melissa, his chosen lifestyle could in some way bring you into danger?” Harry asked.
No matter how much I had tried to sway them to understand and accept my judgement, they refused to back me or support my choices.
“But I must help him, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let something happen to him now,” I pleaded with them.
“Look, Melissa, you are old enough. Do what you feel is right but don’t expect us to give you our consent.”
