Can It Get Any Worse

For those who equate romance with sex, you may be disappointed. The romance is tangible, but the sex is implicit rather than explicit. CM.

Some lying bastard once told me that when you were at your lowest, the only way you could go was up. I would like to find that bastard and ram his words down his fucking sanctimonious throat. While I have been down here, I have had time to reflect on how the trickle down effect works. How a decision at the top of the food chain, made by someone who has had no experience of how that decision, on its inexorable way down the line, can have an increasingly devastating effect on those furthest from the source of that decision.

I am new to this part of town, new to this life, at least I think that I am. My previous life no longer existed in my memory so I have nothing to compare it with, nothing to relate to.

I appeared to be the youngest man in the queue at the soup kitchen. As I moved forward I noticed the routine that belonged here. At the beginning of the queue you grabbed a tray. As you progressed you grabbed a paper wrapped bundle of eating implements, then a plate on which you placed a slice of buttered bread.

The woman dishing out the soup was about my age. She had a nice smile and spoke to each of the men as she placed the full bowl of soup onto his tray. From her, the line collected a bowl that contained what appeared to be canned fruit and custard. At the final station the line took a mug of hot beverage, the tea had a teabag label hanging over the rim, the other, I assumed was an instant coffee poured from an urn. Each person took a couple of those paper tubes of sweetener and one of those little cups of milk before taking a seat at one of the tables. Little was said.

"I haven't seen you here before." She smiled at me. "But then I'm usually serving in the women's line."

"It's my first time." I mumbled as I pushed my tray to the next section.

I took a seat at one of the tables and slowly worked my way through this meal, my first in several days. I had resorted to dumpster diving outside a supermarket until told to move on by the police. Last night I slept in a charity bin. It was warm and comfortable, but I found it much harder to get out than in. I was going to have to find somewhere that doesn't cost much, that doesn't cost anything.

"You look lost." She had been collecting the trays and plates from the tables.

"Being lost presupposes having been somewhere before." I looked at her, my blank face so different from hers.

She sat down. "Where have you come from?" I think that she was expecting me to tell her that I was from another town.

"Over there." I said, pointing to the wealthy part of town.

"I'm sorry, would you like to talk about it?"

"Would you like to listen." Having someone listen to me would be a new experience.

"Why yes, I would." Her face agreed with her.

"I am trying to erase what little I remember of my previous life from my memory. I have spent the past two years recovering from a life that everyone thought was going to end, including me. As I slowly recovered, my memory of what I was missing was the driving force behind my recovery. I was looking forward to my old life, my job, my wife and kids, my house, my car. I had a good life. When I was released from the rehabilitation centre I was to discover that I no longer had a life."

"What do you mean you no longer had a life?"

"My job had been in the finance sector. The company that I worked for had been told that I had suffered significant brain damage and that the prognosis of a full recovery was not looking good. They found a replacement as soon as they could. My wife also found a replacement with undue haste. She told me that she could not put the kids through the trauma of watching the man that I once was, slowly die. I don't know who told her that I was going to die, but I think that she could have waited for a little longer before finding a replacement. He, I thought was a friend. I can understand her thinking that, with no income and with her rate of spending, she had to find a replacement before the money ran out."

"What happened to you?"

"I was bashed, the police never found the culprits, but it was a pretty thorough job they did on me. The damage to my face was extensive, so it was days before the found out who I even was."

"Hadn't your wife reported you missing?"

"She didn't know, I was in another city on business and wasn't expected back for three days."

"But your employer, when you didn't show up for appointments, surely they would have reported that something was wrong."

"I can't explain that. Anyway, here I am, talking to you, thank you for listening to my sad tale. I don't suppose you know where I can find a place to sleep tonight?"

"I do, but you will have to clean yourself up a bit before anyone will let you stay. I finish here in half an hour, what say I take you to a charity shop where you can get some better clothes and then we'll see about somewhere to stay."

"Why are you doing this for me?"

"I have my reasons, let's leave it at that." She picked up the plates and stacked them on the trays. "I tell you what, you give me a hand in the kitchen and I'll be finished quicker."

I followed her into the kitchen. There were a couple of women chopping vegetables.

"That's for the lunchtime rush." She told me. "Rinse those plates and stack them into that tray." She pointed to a tray that I assumed went into the big dishwasher. She was wiping the work surfaces with a cloth that had been soaked in a disinfectant.

"Julia, who's your friend?" One of the women asked. They waited for my answer.

"Winston, Winston smith, at least that's what my ID tells me."

I finished loading the tray and slid it into the washer. Julia hit the switch and the cycle began. She handed me a mop. "Give the floor a quick mop and when the washer finishes its cycle, slide the tray out and stack the dishes."

I did as instructed and was soon finished.

"That's it, we're finished."

I dried my hands and followed her out onto the street. We walked a couple of blocks before reaching a charity shop. She was obviously a regular. "Hi Julia, who do we have here?"

"This is Winston, he needs a complete change of clothes."

"You think?" One of the women said.

"Be kind Liz, you weren't much better when I brought you here."

We walked over to the racks of menswear. I found a pair of jeans and a couple of tee shirts, a jacket and a hoodie, a pair of sneakers. I changed in the changing room and presented myself to show the new me to the women. "How do I look?"

"A lot better." Julia said.

"That wouldn't be hard." Liz again.

"What do I do with my old clothes?" I asked.

"I'd say burn them." Liz said.

Julia and I left. "I suppose that your jocks and socks are not very pleasant. How long have you been wearing them?"

"How long's a piece of string."

"That bad. Okay it's time for new underwear."

"Why are you doing this for me. You don't get paid for this, do you?"

"I do, but not in money. I'm repaying a debt that I owe these people. I was like you not all that long ago."

"You're kidding me."

"I know, I look like I've had an easy life, and for a while it was, but then the wheels fell off big time and I found myself on my own with nowhere to live and no money. I wasn't used to asking for help, so for some months I lived rough. For a woman used to an easy life, living rough had me thinking about ending it all. You won't believe the number of men who wanted to take advantage of me, and how hard it was not to give into the temptation."

We had by this time reached a department store where I selected enough underwear and socks that meant that I could go for several days between washes. I had thoughts of washing them under the shower and hanging them over the rail to dry, but then I didn't have a shower.

We left the store after Julia had paid for my purchases. "Where to now?" I asked.

"You'll see." All very secretive.

It was a small house in a quiet neighbourhood. The front garden was tidy, newly mown lawns, neatly painted facade with a panelled front door with a shiny doorbell button in the centre.

Julia took a set of keys from her purse and opened the door. "I'm going to trust you to behave while your here. I will help you find a place to stay and take you through the process of getting financial support."

"You don't have to do that, I can sort it out for myself, all I need is time."

"Allow me to help, I insist." We walked through the small kitchen to a room at the rear of the house. It was small, just enough room for a single bed and wardrobe. "Put your things there and I'll get a towel so you can have a shower. We can't have you putting on clean underwear over a body that hasn't had the benefit of soap and water in I don't know how long."

"Do I smell that bad?"

"Bad enough. The bathroom's across the hall, chuck your clothes out when you peel them off and I'll take them to the laundry. If you aren't attached to that beard you'd better wash it and we can go out and fetch the implements to remove it. If not wash it well and we'll trim it."

"I'll be looking for a second opinion after I've washed it. If you don't like it, off it comes." I closed the door and stripped off my clothes, they were whiffy, before opening the door far enough to chuck them outside. A hand came through the door holding a towel. "Thank you."

The warm water washing over my body felt so good, I could have stood there for hours. I soaped up and rinsed off, giving my beard a second dose of soap, before stepping out to dry off. My reflection in the mirror lifted my spirits just a little. I decided to accept what help was available to avoid a return to where I had just come from.

Resplendent in my new second hand clothes, I walked to where I could hear Julia rattling around.

"My, you do scrub up well, don't you?" She took a couple of cups from her coffee machine and placed them on the table beside plates, each with a slice of cake. "This will take away the taste of that disgusting coffee we serve at the soup kitchen."

"Thank you for this, it's going to take forever to repay your kindness."

"I don't expect you to repay me, but if, after you've found your feet, you can see your way clear to help me run the centre, I won't say no."

"You run the centre?"

"Yes, it's my way of repaying the assistance that I got a couple of years ago. The people that used to run it were getting so tired physically and mentally, that I decided that the life that I was leading was not giving me the emotional satisfaction I wanted, so I took over the running of it."

"I gather from that you don't have a man to give you the emotional support you want?"

"No, there's not one of them around. That is the reason that I find myself here."

"You must have been hurt badly then?"

"You wouldn't believe how badly I was hurt. It took a long time to get my head around how much the bastard hurt me."

"I suppose it's put you off ever seeking a relationship with another man."

"I wouldn't quite go that far, if the right person comes along I could lower my guard."

"So, there's hope for me yet."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, I hardly know you."

"What are we going to do about finding me a place to live?"

"What are you looking for, would you consider shared accommodation, or do you want to live by yourself?"

"I really don't think that I want to inflict myself on anyone just yet."

"I'll need to know how much you can afford to pay."

"I don't know. I have no income until I can find a job and it's going to be difficult to find a job with no address."

"I tell you what, and don't take this the wrong way, you can stay here for the time being. Don't get excited I have a spare room, and help me at the kitchen. I'll make a few calls and see if my contacts know of any place suitable for you."

"Are you sure about this, can I be trusted, after all it has been a long time since I had been with a woman, especially one as good looking and kind as you."

"You'll have to stop fishing for compliments. For your information it's been a long time since I've felt the touch of a man."

"We're a sorry couple of people aren't we?" She looked at me for some time. I could read nothing in her face.

"We have to be at the kitchen at three o'clock to begin the meal preparations, so I suggest that you take a load off. Your room is down the hall on the right, I'll give you a call when we need to leave."

I stretched out on the narrow but comfortable bed and was soon asleep. My thoughts, before I succumbed to my tiredness, was about this wonderful woman called Julia who was offering to help me. How could I repay her?"

I was half asleep, my mind wandering down a path that explored how I would feel if Julia and I began a relationship, when there was a tapping on the door. "It's time to go."

I dragged myself away from my dream and into the reality of what it is like to feed the people in my situation.

"What's on the menu for this evening?"

"I don't know, and I won't until we get there. I have this deal with the markets, bakeries and butchers to give me their left-overs, stuff that's getting close to the end of its shelf life. When I first started we would get all kinds of exotic stuff until I told them that the people that we feed just aren't into that. Now all we get is good, almost fresh and usable stuff."

"If you don't mind me asking. Who pays for all of this? Do you receive finding from a social welfare agency, probably not the government, they're not noted for their generosity."

"I have some money of my own, my ex was forced to be generous, it would have done his reputation no good if the word got out that he had been a naughty boy. To preserve his reputation he came up with a bullshit story about me going overseas on an extended sabbatical to further my studies. As far as his congregation is concerned I am currently studying Divinity at Cambridge. It appears as if I'm going to meet someone over there, fall in love with him and leave him, heartbroken, to be consoled by his good friend who he's been screwing for the last four years."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I was over it before he started screwing her, she wasn't the first, I had to threaten to tell the world if I wasn't suitably taken care of. On the church's books, the expenses at Cambridge are coming from the church funds."

"Won't he seek reimbursement when the news is released of your new romance?"

"Forgiveness come at a price."

Julia unlocked the rear entrance and pointed to the many insulated containers stacked outside. "Can you start shifting those inside so we can see what will be on the menu tonight?"

"Where do you want them?"

"On that bench." She pointed to the workbench next to the sink.

There was a knock on the door. She opened it to admit two men in their fifties, "Winston, this is Benjy, he's the cook, and Tom, he wields the knife with some skill, he hasn't cut himself yet. Guys, this is Winston, he'll be helping out for a while, until he gets back on his feet."

"Welcome to the club," Benjy said, "If our experience is anything to go on, you'll be here for quite a while. Not that we're complaining, are we Tom?"

"Wouldn't be anywhere else. What are you like at chopping stuff?"

"Wouldn't have a clue, never had to do it before."

"It's about time you learned. Here's a knife, there's a cutting board, there's a slab of meat," Benjy said. "I want it cut into 2 centre-metre cubes, start by cutting across the grain and then along the grain, when you've finished, chuck it into that big pot." He pointed to a large pot that had onion and garlic browning.

I couldn't believe how easy the meat was to cut, it was either very fresh and tender or the knife was extremely sharp, a bit of both probably.

Benjy tossed a lot of cubed vegetables into the pot after the meat had browned, stirred it well before emptying about six large cans of diced tomato into it. "That bag of rice, as soon as the water in that big boiler starts to bubble, empty that in and toss in a handful of salt. As soon as the water gets back to the boil, turn the heat down to number one."

Julia poked her head in. "How's it going guys, we have a full house and they're looking hungry."

"Ready in ten." He gave the pot a stir and scooped some of the stew out with a spoon and tasted it before chucking some brownish powder in and stirring it.

"You don't seem to need a recipe."

"Nah, learn the basics and adjust it to what you have available. Haute cuisine it ain't, but then these guys aren't into that, good plain food is what they're looking for. Have you eaten today?"

"I had something for breakfast."

"Grab a plate and help yourself, not too much mind, and then you can help us carry this lot out and dish it up."

"I can wait until those out there have eaten, if that's okay with you."

"You'll do well, you're not looking after number one. Julia can pick them."

"You get a few guys coming through here, do you?"

"Not all that many, just enough to make sure that everyone gets fed."

"I can't remember much of my previous life, just enough to realise that it was nothing like this. Strange thing is, I'm getting more out of doing this than anything that I have done before."

I carried out the large pot with the rice and set it down on the counter, Benjy was dishing out the stew on top of the pile of rice on the plates. Most of the men mumbled their thanks, a few looked at what was placed in front of them, shrugged and moved on to Tom and the dessert station where they received a bowl of rice pudding and canned fruit.

"Where's Julia?" I asked Benjy.

"She's in the women's section, through that door, we have to feed then separately, some of the ladies are a little rough around the edges. We can't have any temptation around here."

"Oh,"

"Careful, Julia's a great lady she used to be like us, but she's not interested in a relationship with you or anyone else, she got badly burnt and she is not going down that path again."

Some of the men I served looked at me as if there was some sort of recognition that I was on their side of the counter this morning before shuffling along the counter.

I had just finished taking the last lot of dishes from the dishwasher when Julia came in. "How did it go guys?"

"What you want to know is how did the new recruit go? He'll be fine once he loosens up a bit and forgets that he was on the other side of the line." Benjy said.

We finished cleaning the kitchen. "See you in the morning guys, and thanks again for your efforts."

"Where are you staying tonight Winston?"

"He's staying with me." Julia said.

"Julia, a word." Benjy said, motioning her to follow him. "Julia, you're a lovely woman who has been badly hurt by some idiot. I don't want to see it happening again. Are you sure that this is what you want to do?"

"No, I'm not sure, but I have a feeling that I know him from somewhere, that I know something of what he has gone through. To help him get back on his feet I need to know more, and the only way that I can find out is to keep him close so that I can help him."

"Okay, I don't entirely agree with what you are doing, and I will keep a close eye on you. If I feel that you are heading down that slippery slope again, I'll step in and save you."

"I know you will. I'll be careful."

We shut up and I followed her once again. "What was Benjy worried about?" I asked.

"Benjy was questioning my motives in allowing you to stay with me."

"I have been wondering the same thing myself. Why are you allowing me to stay with you, even if it's only for a short time?"

"I have this feeling, call it a woman's intuition if you will, but I think that you have something that I can use, even for a short time."