Chapter 10
Jillian
THAT INSUFFERABLE MAN and his damn bet. I hadn’t seen Gareth in months and had only spoken with him a handful of times since he started at Harvard Law. Thanksgiving was going to be our chance to be together again… to rekindle the romance of last year when he was a senior and we were together all the time. There was no way I was letting Thanksgiving slip through my fingers. But I wasn’t worried. This was easy. I was in complete control.
“Now, remember. You’re not here to grill them. You’re just here to befriend them. When they trust you, they’ll open up and share some of their stories.” I slapped him on the arm.
“I’m not an idiot, Mr. Hanson. I’ve dined with presidents and foreign dignitaries. Vagabonds ought to be a piece of cake after that.” Bennett slapped his forehead. What did I say?
We’d agreed to meet for dinner at the cafe on Wednesday nights. Never mind that Bennett had a late class on Mondays… there was no way I was going to miss my sorority’s weekly chapter meeting to hang out with people who couldn’t be bothered to help themselves. And Friday was my night to volunteer. And now his too, apparently. My mysterious Friday night absences from Greek social events had not gone unnoticed. Plenty of perfectly manicured eyebrows had been raised in my direction lately.
For the most part, I’d held it together, but I had a mild panic attack at the thought of actually dining with real street people. When I expressed my concern, Bennett assured me that he would keep me safe. He’d set this all up, but I still didn’t trust him.
“Before we go in, tell me. How do you know these people?” He stopped on the front porch of the cafe and turned to look at me.
“I spend a lot of time here. It’s kind of my hangout now.” Okay, loser. Time to get new friends if you’re hanging out at the local soup kitchen for companionship. Of course, I didn’t say that, my bitch filter firmly in place. I nodded with my pleasant smile also firmly in place.
Entering through the front doors felt weird. Other than the absence of a cash register, there was nothing to indicate this wasn’t just a typical Southern mom-and-pop joint you’d find in any little town. It was a sweet place, minus the clientele. The same clientele I would soon be dining with.
Grabbing a plate and helping myself to scrambled eggs and bacon on a tortilla topped with salsa and cheese felt like the Twilight Zone. I was on the other side of the serving line. I was breaking bread with them. And there were no words to describe what was going through my mind as I sat down next to a woman who didn’t look much older than me, with two small children flanking her, already digging in. I gasped when I glanced down and saw that she was incredibly pregnant.
“Rosalinda Macias, I’d like to introduce you to Jillian Walker. Jillian, meet Rosalinda and her daughters, Gabby and Ari.” The two girls (one I’d place around eight years old and the other about two) both shared their mother’s wide, black eyes and thick eyelashes. The girls’ long, straight black hair was artfully braided and the older one, Gabby, had a wilted dandelion flower tucked behind one ear. They were beautiful, all three of them, and clean. I was surprised.
“Hello there.” The look on my face must have been priceless. The young mother stared at me like I was wearing a turtle as a hat. “Howwww arrrrre youuuuuuu?” What was this slow, loud voice coming out of me? I felt possessed.
Bennett noticed it too. He poked me in the ribs and casually whispered, “Rosalinda is from the Panhandle, not Mexico. Talk to her like she’s human, not something that just deboarded a flying saucer.” He then turned to Rosalinda, whose soft smile indicated she’d heard every word. “Sorry about my friend here. She doesn’t get out much.”
My eyes rolled back in my head, which earned a giggle from the older girl. It took everything in me not to slap him for that, but I remained calm, for the sake of the children.
So, what now? The woman looked at me. I looked at the woman. Eating dinner with poor people was a lot easier in theory than it was in reality. When I had dinner with someone, it was because we were alike in some way. There was some common ground, a jumping-off point. Something. This woman was nothing like me at all, but what about her daughter?
“So, Gabby, what are you reading?” I pulled out an orange painted wooden chair and sat down beside her. The young girl didn’t look old enough to read anything, much less the chapter book her nose was buried in. When she didn’t respond, Rosalinda elbowed her, and her sheepish look told me becoming lost in the world within the pages was a common occurrence. She glanced at me, then looked to her mother for silent approval before speaking to me directly.
“It’s called Trumpet of the Swan. In my class, we’re reading Charlotte’s Web, but since I’ve already read that one a few times, my teacher let me choose another book by the same author.”
I scooted closer. I could talk about books all day. “You know, this was one of my favorite books when I was a child. My mom actually hid it from me because every time I read it, I begged her to get me a swan.” She laughed out loud and I noticed most of her teeth were capped in silver.
“I would have asked for a trumpet.” Her simple smile warmed my heart. In truth, I had asked for a trumpet and my parents had gotten me one. I think I used it for decor. I certainly never learned to play like Louis, the main character, from the book about a trumpeter swan with no voice.
“I read, I read.” Ari reached into a bag sitting at her feet and pulled out some white paper stapled together to resemble a book. On the cover was a bright drawing made in crayon. It appeared the other pages were a combination of pictures and words.
“What is that?” I was curious.
“Gabby writes books for Ari. She illustrates them and staples them together at school so she can read like her sister.”
Why didn’t they just get Ari her own books? I knew they made books for babies her age. I watched as the tiny girl’s finger slid across the page, mouthing words. At one point, she stopped and laughed out loud. I had no idea what story was playing in her head, but whatever it was, it must have been hilarious. Rosalinda looked at her girls with such pride.
“What sweet girls you have.”
Rosalinda smiled.
“Thank you. Yes, they are sweet. And I pray every night that they can make something of themselves. My worst nightmare is that they make the same mistakes I did.” Her words were scarcely more than a whisper, but the pain in her eyes screamed.
“Hey now, none of that.” Bennett piped in. “Remember what we talked about last week?”
Gabby popped up from her book. “You said to always look forward, never look back.”
“And why should you never look back?” I asked. This just got interesting.
“Mr. Ben says if you don’t look forward, you’ll never find your second chance.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting to come out of the pretty little girl with the really big brain, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“Very good Gabby! At least someone was listening.” Bennett’s words were meant for Gabby, but aimed at Rosa… but in a gentle, playful tone and I could easily picture him as a father, teasing his own daughter in that way. This was a very different side to the strong, unassuming man and not at all unwelcome. His softer side only added to his mystery. One that I had no business solving.
Rosalinda blushed and patted Bennett’s shoulder, then turned toward her little girls. “Hey mija, I think Ms. Lillie might have something for you and your sister. Why don’t you two run over and see what she’s got over there?” Her words were strained, and I have no doubt Gabby caught on, but she slid her bookmark into place and both girls jumped up and scurried off in search of whatever sweet treat Lillie Lowe had in her magical basket. When they were out of earshot, she leaned in closer to Bennett, who’d taken a seat next to her.
“He called again this weekend.” Rosalinda’s voice shook as she twisted a paper napkin to shreds. Bennett was leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees with his hands steepled in front of his mouth.
“What did he want?” Rosalinda snorted.
“To come home, of course. What does he always want?”
“And what did you say?” It was like they were the only two in the room. Did he even remember I was there, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second? I should have excused myself, but it was like an accident on the side of the road: too intriguing to look away, or in my case, walk away.
“I did exactly what you said. I told him to go to hell. Then, I called the police, locked my doors, and prayed to St. Michael to keep us safe from harm. Turns out, he was calling from jail. He’s suspected of armed robbery.” She sat up, pressing her back against her chair as a slow smile crept across their faces. Then, they high fived.
I waved as a reminder of my presence. “Clearly, I’m missing something here.” Ben raised his eyebrows toward the woman who was wiping tears from her eyes. Signaled by a slight nod of her head, he turned my way.
“Rosa’s ex, Armando, is the scum of the earth. While Rosa worked two jobs to afford their small apartment, Mando took what little was left and gambled it away. When Rosa wasn’t able to pay all the bills, he took his angry displeasure of the situation out on her face.”
I was appalled, and wondered if it showed on my face. I quickly schooled my features, just like I’d been taught. “So, why the celebration?”
“Oh. This weekend, the dirt bag was picked up for armed robbery. If convicted, which he will be, right Rosa?” She nodded emphatically. “That will make his third felony and in Texas, there’s a ‘Three Strikes’ law. No bail, no probation, no leniency. Just prison. Exactly where the bastard should be.”
Rosalinda’s face lit up like a Christmas tree at Bennett’s words, and while new tears started to slide down her face, these were tears of pure joy. How long had Bennett known this woman? And what was his role in her life? I didn’t get the vibe they were involved romantically, but they were definitely closer than two people who just met at a soup kitchen. Then it dawned on me. I really didn’t know much about Bennett Hanson at all.
The rest of the meal was spent discussing Gabby’s excellent grades and the books she’d read. We also spoke of Rosa’s pregnancy and how it would affect her income. She didn’t seem too worried. She had a plan that included a strong support system, but of course Bennett offered to help in any way he could. It was a lovely evening and the little family of three, soon four, was full of life.
“So, are they homeless?” I asked, needing to know more. We were walking back to campus, where I’d left my car. My Wednesday afternoon class was just a few blocks away from the cafe, so it made the most sense to walk.
“No, they aren’t homeless. They rent a room from her aunt. Or maybe great-aunt? Cousin? I can’t really remember, but they only have kitchen privileges a few nights a week. So, on the nights she can’t cook for her family, they come here.”
“But, doesn’t she work? Couldn’t they just eat out or get an apartment with a kitchen they didn’t have to share?” The idea of that woman having to share one room with those two little girls was unsettling. And with a baby on the way? It was unfathomable. She had to know this wasn’t an ideal situation and at least try to make it better.
Bennett stopped mid-stride. “Do you have any idea what the average rent is in this city? I know it’s not a booming metropolis like Houston or Dallas, but it’s a college town. The apartment complexes and condos cater to the average college student, driving to school in their brand-new Firebird or Jetta, armed with their daddy’s checkbook and just enough sense to get up in the morning.” He rolled his eyes and my mind went directly to my top desk drawer, where I kept my daddy’s checkbook. He was absolutely right and I should have viewed his comments as a personal affront. But how could I?
“You know, the real world is hard enough, but pile a couple of kids on top and it’s that much harder. When they lost the apartment because she wasn’t ‘working hard enough,’ they came home to changed locks. They had nothing but the clothes on their backs. But Rosalinda never gave up, never stopped looking for a better life for her girls. Right now, that room in her aunt’s house is paradise. It’s in a decent neighborhood, with decent schools, and she doesn’t have to fear for their safety.”
We walked in comfortable silence, as dusk settled into night and the air grew cooler. How did one rebuild from nothing, especially with two kids and one on the way? What would become of them?
“How do they get to the cafe?” The question was out before I could stop it, but I was particularly curious. It always amazed me how full the cafe could be with only a half-empty parking lot. Where did they come from?
“I had that same question. When they opened the place, Chance had it put on the city bus schedule. Look out the side window about twenty minutes before the doors open. It’s almost the entire bus that gets off on that corner. Rosa and her kids use it.”
“No car then?” Bennett shook his head. My mind was reeling after everything I’d seen and heard. How did I not know these people existed? And how many were there?
“You met her at the cafe, right?” Bennett nodded. “When?”
“Let’s see.” His gaze drifted up as if he were viewing a calendar in his brain. “I guess about three weeks ago?” I stopped.
“So, in three weeks, you got her whole life story?” He nodded again. My head was cocked to the side as I viewed him with scrunched up eyes. When I realized what I was doing, I steadied my face. “But why? Why would someone with, I assume major trust issues, let you in on the intricacies of their life?” I just couldn’t understand.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s just what people do.”
Huh. It’s just what people do? I pondered his words as we walked across some green space between buildings. It’s just what people do. He was right. So many times, I’d caught myself with my defenses down. There was something about his wide eyes, relaxed smile, and smooth baritone voice that lured me in. And it was also something that could get me in a lot of trouble if I wasn’t careful.
“Hey, you okay?” The words pulled me from my trance and I noticed I was stopped at a crosswalk that was blinking at me to cross within the next seventeen seconds.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I just have a test tomorrow and I was thinking about everything I need to study.” That was a lie in its purest form, but there was no way I’d admit that he had my full attention. There was no way I was opening up to this smooth operator. And forget giving in and spending Thanksgiving here. “This is my parking garage.” I veered right and he stopped.
“So, I’ll see you Friday?” I nodded, he tipped his chin up in response, and we parted ways.
The entire drive home, which included stopping for the world’s longest and loudest train, my mind was fixated on Rosalinda. She was probably the strongest woman I’d ever known. But upon meeting her, no one would ever guess she’d been a victim of domestic abuse, homeless, and destitute all within the last twelve months, because her smile told a different story; one of happiness, love, and hope.