by Alana Jade
I grab the door to hold it open for Myles, dropping Adam’s hand in the process. He sidesteps to let him past before walking inside first, extending his hand to grab mine again. I’m convinced that he’s holding onto my hand to calm himself, which is fine by me. If I need to be his anchor tonight, then so be it.
After getting our aprons and gloves on, I remember I need to fix my hair high on my head to fit it into the hairnet. Realizing I don’t have my ponytail holder on my wrist or in my pocket. I remember taking it off and placing it in the cup holder in the car on the way here as it was hurting my wrist. I tell Adam I’m going to quickly run back to the car to get one.
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks, handing me the keys.
I shake my head and smile. It’s barely thirty feet away. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Running to the car, I retrieve my ponytail holder and walk back to the soup kitchen as I tie my hair up. I know I’m running a little late now, so I figure I’m best to do two things at once.
Walking in the door again, I see Adam standing with a few other people and walk toward them. One of the guys gives Adam the heads up I’m behind him, and he spins around looking like a deer in headlights.
“Ah, that was quick,” he says, tucking something behind his back.
I cross my brows at him. “What are you hiding?”
“It’s not what you think.” The other guys behind him move away as he pulls out a plastic drinking bottle with brown liquid in it.
I gasp. Surely, that’s not what I think it is.
“Is… Is that whiskey?” I ask with a stutter.
“I think it is. But it’s not mine.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
I walk away from Adam. We have a job to do right now, and I need to think about how to handle this. I ask someone who Storm is before being set to work.
Deep down, I want to believe him, but a tiny part of me wonders if he was having a swig or two, or even if he was tempted to.
I put my hair-net on. It looks like they aren’t designed for people with long hair like me, and it sticks up a little, but it will have to do.
It seems to be an easy job and one I don’t mind doing. All I have to do is grab the trays full of food and distribute them to each person who comes through as well as hand them cutlery.
At first, I’m a little nervous. What if I can’t hand them out fast enough? Storm is a little intimidating, but once we start, it flows quite well. The pre-packaged cutlery is fantastic, making my job much easier.
“Georgia, please talk to me,” Adam begs, but I ignore him. This issue will be dealt with after we finish here tonight. I plaster a smile on my face and continue to do my job.
When a family of five arrive at the top of the line, my already fragile heart breaks a little more. The children can’t be any more than six, and it looks like they have been doing it tough for a while now. The kids’ clothes are ripped and grubby as are their faces.
I hand a little boy his tray, and he smiles at me, then gets excited about seeing a bread roll. “Mommy, Mommy… a bread roll. I’m so excited,” he squeals.
Something so simple that I take for granted they think is the best thing in the world.
The mother thanks me as I hand her the tray. The poor woman looks exhausted and so thin. Another of her children pulls on her top, telling her she needs to pee.
She asks me where the bathroom is located, and while I’m not entirely sure, I do a quick scan of the dining room and see a sign, so I point her in that direction.
We’re meant to be serving dinner from six until eight. I do the first hour serving the food before I swap with someone called Kerrie, and I’m put on table-cleaning duties.
I’m grateful at swap time as I can’t deal with Adam trying to talk to me anymore.
I need to think, not be fed excuses.
Maybe he didn’t have a drink.
But was he thinking about it?
All the hard work he’s put into getting sober again goes straight out the window.
The dining room isn’t overly big, probably around twenty tables have been set up. The homeless people come in for their food and then leave, there’s no hanging around, and given the longer the night is going on, the more people are arriving for food, we need to keep the tables cleared and wiped down. Lucky for me, I’m used to this kind of quick table clearing and service from my time at the pizzeria, so it’s like second nature to me.
I’ve made a friend with the little boy I served earlier, who follows me from table to table, helping me clean. He’s such a sweet little boy. He tells me his name is Trey, and he’s almost five.
“Thank you for your help, Trey,” I say, giving him a high-five.
“That’s okay, Miss Georgia. Mommy said your name is real pretty.”
“Oh, that’s very nice.” I look up, and Adam’s watching us from behind the counter. A smile pulls at one side of his mouth. I give him a little wave.
Trey’s mom walks over to us, putting her hands on his shoulders. “He’s not getting in your way, is he?”
“Not at all. He’s a good helper.”
I get to talking with her, and within minutes, she’s telling me how they came to be homeless in the first place. She tells me her name is Mary. Her husband received bad advice and invested all of their money in a company, so he made a bad business decision. They lost their house, their second car, everything. Her husband’s parents are no longer alive, and her parents disowned her for staying with such a deadbeat. The five of them live in their older model car which they’ve parked in the same space now for the last month when their gas ran out. Mary is just waiting for the day the car is towed away.
“Hopefully, it’s not,” I sympathize. “So, let me get this straight… if you’d left your husband, your parents would have taken you and the kids in?”
“That’s right. But I couldn’t leave him. Not like that. He wouldn’t have survived. We’re in marriage for better or worse. This is our worse, and one day it’ll be better again. I’m not sure if you’re a religious person, but we pray each and every night that a little luck will be thrown our way.”
“I hope it will, too.”
It’s nearing eight now, and the soup kitchen is starting to pack up.
“We’d better get going, I guess. It was nice to eat a hot meal in a warm room. Lovely to meet you, Georgia. God bless.”
She starts to walk away, but I can’t end things like this. “Mary, can you meet me outside in ten minutes?” I ask.
Her expression is confused, but she agrees.
I quickly clean up the last table as I’m called out the back by Myles.
Adam’s standing with him.
Myles is holding the plastic bottle I saw Adam holding earlier.
“Georgia, would you be able to tell me the men who you saw with this bottle?” Myles asks.
“I could probably point out a couple. But Adam was holding it.”
Adam looks at his feet. I feel disappointed in both Adam and myself. I think about what Mary said—that she stuck by her husband through everything—and I realize I should be doing the same, not tearing him to shreds for what was possibly a slip.
“Adam took this bottle from the other guys. Barge saw him snatch it from them before they could take a drink. The guys who had it are new and still learning how to control their cravings.”
“Oh,” is all I can say.
“Adam, you did good. But we’ll talk about this at the next meeting, all right?”
Myles walks away. I don’t know what to say. I take a step toward Adam and slide my hands around his back. “I’m sorry.”
He rests his head on mine. “I know it looked bad. I’m sorry you had to see it. I probably would have leaped to the same conclusion.”
“I should have trusted you,” I whisper.
We hold each other for a moment before Adam’s called to the front counter to help, and I remember Mar
y and her family are probably waiting for me outside.
I collect my handbag from the locker, pulling out a piece of paper and write my phone number on it as well as the office address before pulling some money I have stashed out of my purse. I’m going to tell Mary to come and visit me from time to time, and I’ll help her, and I hope this money will give them some comfort for a little while.
We are told not to get emotionally attached to the people who come in here, but there’s something about Mary. I believe her story. I think they simply need a little help to get back on their feet.
I run outside and search for Mary, who’s huddling with her children trying to keep warm.
Handing her the piece of paper, she looks at me confused. “That’s my number and where I work. It’s in the middle of the city but come to the office at any time and ask for me.”
“I couldn’t do that. Your boss would get angry at you, and I couldn’t risk your job.”
“Don’t worry about him. The boss is my boyfriend, Adam. He’s in there tonight, too, and trust me, he’s all about giving people a second chance.”
“You’re an angel. I’ll come and visit.”
“Fantastic. Also, this is from me to you. Think of it as a Christmas gift.” I hand her the hundred-dollar bills still folded several times. “It’s not much, but I hope it can help you guys in a little way.” My teeth are starting to chatter from the cold.
Mary starts to cry. “I can’t accept this.”
“Yes, you can. Merry Christmas.” I embrace her before running back inside.
Adam finds me and pulls me in for a hug, his warmth immediately heating me up.
“Why the hell were you outside without your coat?” he lectures.
“I met a family tonight, and I gave them my number and the office address. They have three little kids and are down on their luck. I told her to come and find me. I don’t know what I can do for them, but maybe I can buy them a meal or some groceries or something.”
Adam leans down and whispers in my ear, “You could get in trouble for that.”
I pull back and look at him with worry in my eyes. “You could have gotten in trouble tonight, too.”
“Touché,” he quips. “But I get why you did it. It’s the person you are. So kind-hearted, and you’ve rubbed off on me, too. I was told a little while ago that they would have to close this place down in January as they had no more funding. So, I’ve just donated a million dollars to keep this place running for the next two years, and I have told them to find a bigger and better location.”
“That’s amazing,” I beam.
This was such an eye-opening experience tonight, and I’m so glad I joined Adam, even if I did spend quite a bit of time annoyed at him. What Mary said about staying with her husband, even if it meant they’d be homeless, has stuck with me. I know I’d do the same with Adam in a heartbeat.
An idea has popped into my head. A way to help. I need to stop and think about it a little more, but I think it’s achievable. I can’t wait to share it with Adam.
Adam
It’s been such a rewarding evening for both Georgia and me. I never thought I’d enjoy helping in a soup kitchen as much as I did. So, when they told me it’d likely be one of the last times they’d be opening, I couldn’t resist making the offer of donating and helping them out for another year at least. As a group, the Alcoholics Anonymous team all committed to at least one day a month when we will come down and help serve too. I know it’s going to help so many people.
As we drive back home, I can see Georgia is bursting to tell me something.
“How did you find tonight?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“A real eye-opener,” she replies, smiling from ear to ear.
“All right… spit it out. What’s got you so excited? Christmas?”
“While I’m looking forward to Christmas and giving you my gift, I had an idea tonight, and I’d love to run it past you.”
“Sure, go ahead,” I encourage, eager to hear what this idea is.
“After speaking to Mary tonight—”
“Who’s Mary?” I ask, assuming it’s one of the other workers at the soup kitchen.
“Oh, the lady and her husband with the kids that came in.”
“Right. Continue…”
“We got to talking, and she told me how they came to be in their situation. One wrong business decision, and they were out on their asses. It broke my heart.” Georgia clutches at her chest, and I can tell she’s overwhelmed by what she heard tonight.
“Some people’s stories are terrible. Occasionally, it’s a bad decision, sometimes a business partner who runs off with the money, and there are other times when it’s bad luck or abuse. Either way, it’s awful seeing these people put everything into their career and life only to have it fall out from underneath them,” I add.
“It really is,” she starts. “So, I had an idea. What if we create a small village dedicated to helping people in these situations get back onto their feet? Whether it be an apartment block that’s in need of renovation, an old office building that could be converted, or even if we have a parcel of land and use old shipping containers and convert them into accommodations.”
“Hmmm…” I start, wondering where she will go with this idea. It’s piquing my interest, though.
“So, we offer temporary housing until they can get back on their feet. Maybe two weeks, maybe a month. In that time, they will need to work hard to find a new job and somewhere to live. If they can’t find anywhere to live after the month, they pay rent.” She’s talking a mile a minute, it’s hard to get a word in. I can tell she’s been thinking nonstop about this idea.
“What about jobs?” I ask.
She thinks for a minute, perhaps trying to calm herself down. “Well, there are two options. Either they find themselves a new job through the traditional channels, or if they have no skills, there’s the soup kitchen to get some experience. But I know you’ve been saying how you would like to have an internal mailroom at work. Perhaps they could apply for jobs within that area, too. Maybe we could have a network of business people come together and offer jobs. I don’t know, I’m just throwing ideas around, but it’s a start.”
I like what she’s saying, but it isn’t a quick project to set up. This could take years until it’s fully operational.
Having been quiet for a little while, Georgia twists in the car seat and asks what I think.
“In all honesty, baby, I like the idea. I think it’d be amazing to be able to help the homeless people of the city and get them back to a somewhat similar life like they used to lead. My concern is the funding and the length of the project. It could easily take a year, or possibly more, to be fully operational. Refurbishing a building could take a year in itself.”
“I realize that. It’s not a quick fix. But as far as money goes, I’m getting Dad’s inheritance very soon, and I’d be more than happy to use that toward this project and raise the rest of the money myself somehow. I know Dad would be proud of me to use it in that way.”
“I have no doubt. How about we write out a business plan? We can discuss it with Max, Basil, and Darius after the Christmas break, see if they think it’s viable. If so, then if you’d like, we can either have it as a division of EG Enterprises, or you can have your own company. It’ll be totally up to you.”
As we pull into the drive, I look at Georgia, her face is beaming with excitement. She bounces in her seat and claps her hands. Even though it’s late at night, she’s suddenly got more energy than we started the night with. Georgia’s idea is fabulous, and I can see it being very successful if it’s done right. I love seeing her so enthusiastic about things. She definitely gets that from her dad.
One we have parked the car and are comfortable inside, she makes us each a hot chocolate before we sit on the couch and admire the Christmas lights twinkling on the tree.
She places her cup on the glass table and jumps up. “I can’t wait any longer. After tonigh
t, I feel I need to give you one of my Christmas gifts a little early.” She kneels in front of the Christmas tree and digs around for the gift.
Rubbing my hands together, I eagerly wait for her return to the couch with present in hand. It’s a silver box, roughly the size of a piece of paper, with a big glitter bow on the front.
I’m eyeing off my gift still under the tree. I’ve tried to be a little creative with the wrapping, so I’ve wrapped the tickets for the Bahamas in a box, then a bigger box, and then a bigger box, just to throw her off the scent.
Georgia hands me the box, and I gently shake it as if it’s going to give me some clue. I slowly tug on the ribbon, and I hear a tut.
“Hurry up…” she whines. “Just rip it open.”
I chuckle, knowing that I’m getting to her. She’s so cute when she’s annoyed. “I like to savor the moment.”
She lets out a huff through a smile and sits down on the couch next to me.
Deciding that I’ve annoyed her enough, I do as she asks and open it faster. Once I’ve removed the ribbon, I pull the tape off the four sides and remove the lid.
It’s a silver picture frame with a dollar bill inside, and a signature underneath.
I give Georgia a puzzled look. “Th-Thank you?” I stutter, not sure what to say.
“I thought you might not understand. Let me explain. This is the first dollar that Dad ever made.”
“Really? That’s amazing.”
“Yeah. It’s really special to me. Dad used to tell me that the bill was a reminder to him that he put in a lot of hard work to build this company, and he signed it when the company had been open a year. After that, he hung it on the office wall and said it was good luck.”
I nod, partly remembering what she’s saying. “I do remember it being on the wall. The cleaners knocked it off when they were dusting once and broke the frame. I assumed he’d never put it back up.”
“I found it at Dad’s house, then took it with me as I was going to buy a new frame for it. Unfortunately, my mom found it and hid it from me, telling me it was just another piece of junk. About a week before I left, I found it hidden in a hallway cupboard when I was looking for something else. So, I reframed it and put it in my wardrobe. I did forget it when I left, but luckily, Mom hadn’t gotten around to cleaning out my wardrobe yet, so it was still where I’d left it. I collected it when I went back to get some of my clothes.”
