I couldn't have written this without 1Moeannie. Thank you for being so much more than just an editor. You're a sounding board, a human, and just someone to kick me in the butt once in a while. For those who've noticed, I knew I needed an editor. I just got very lucky! Hope you all enjoy this.
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Jennifer DeBoer sat on the park bench in disbelief. How could her life have fallen apart so fast? One minute she was getting ready to go to university, the next she was homeless. She remembered the look on her foster father's face when he kicked her out, hatred and rage. She had been on the streets for ten days now, and things were beginning to get desperate.
She'd paid attention when some of the older homeless people talked. She knew that most fast-food restaurants would throw food out after a set time and that was why she was waiting behind the dumpster now. She was behind some undergrowth watching the back door of the place. When it opened, a young man came out with a large trash bag. He threw it in the dumpster then turned to go back inside when he saw her. He stopped for a moment, then held up a single finger, wanting her to wait. He disappeared inside. Jennifer was torn. She decided to take what was there and went to the dumpster. Suddenly the door opened, and he walked back out with a large to-go box. She stared at him like a deer in the headlights. He made one step closer then put the box down. He walked backwards to the door. She sprinted to the box, grabbed it, then ran back to "her" place, a small clearing inside some bushes in the park. She opened the box and found fresh chicken, several different sides, even some biscuits. She ate like the starving person she was. She saved some for breakfast and wandered about for the rest of the day until it got dark, then she went back to her clearing to sleep.
The following day she couldn't get the incident out of her mind. She decided to go back about the same time just to see what would happen. At about the same time, the same man came out with a trash bag. This time he stopped and looked around. He saw her not really hiding in the weeds. He held up his finger again and went back in. He brought out a box again, this time coming several steps closer. He waved hello, then put the box down. He went to the door, but didn't go in. Jennifer sprinted to the food then ran away with it, mostly pleased that he didn't try to chase her.
When she got back to her clearing, she opened the box to find the fresh food, but saw the writing on the top. "Hi, I'm Jeff. I understand. If you ever need anything, any help, a place to stay, food, whatever call me or come by." Underneath was an address and phone number. She read it repeatedly while eating. When she was done, she went to throw the box away but decided to tear off the top piece putting it in her pocket. She trusted no one, but it seemed like a good idea.
That night, after she went to sleep, it began to rain hard. Then she found out why no one else was using this clearing. It was a low spot, and the water was rising. She woke up in an inch of water, and it was accumulating rapidly. She was soaked. Jennifer could take no more. She began screaming "WHY??" (Mixed with the occasional "FUUUCK!") into the wind and rain.
She pulled her backpack out and ran with no destination, no plan, just anger. When she was exhausted, she stopped to look where she was. There was a street sign, it rang a bell with her. It took her shaken brain a moment, then she pulled the box top from her pocket. It was the same street. She found a house number and she knew she was close.
"What the hell?" she decided as she went down the street wiping the water out of her eyes so she could see.
She found the address, he had a third-floor apartment. She walked in, leaving a trail of water up the stairs. When she got to the door she stood there for a long time. Cold, wet, and out of options, she finally knocked on the door. At first, she heard nothing, so she knocked again, harder. This time she heard some stumbling feet and a few curses.
He opened the door to see a very soaked, bedraggled girl. It took him a second before he recognized her. He rubbed his eyes, stepped away from the door, saying "Come in, you're making a puddle." She came in just far enough to close the door. "Stay there for a second, I'll get you set up." he said, walking down the hall.
He came out with towels and some clothes, putting all of it in his bathroom. He then stopped and pulled a door wedge from a drawer. "Use this, the door locks but this will keep everyone out. Take a shower, my utilities are paid so use all the hot water you want. I found some clothes my old girlfriend left here, they're probably too big but should work for now. I'll sit over here and wait."
She moved very slowly and deliberately, taking the wedge and heading into the bathroom. She had a knife she had found and put it in the shower with her. She stayed in the shower, using his shampoo and soap, luxuriating in feeling clean as she warmed up. When she started to turn into a prune, she reluctantly shut the water off, dried herself off, and changed into the clothes he had provided. They were big, but the pants had a drawstring. The sweatshirt hung to her knees. She picked up the wedge and knife and opened the door. He was sitting in the same spot she had left him.
He stood up but made no other move. He spoke hesitantly, "Hi, I'm Jeff. This is my dump of an apartment. I want you to know that I understand how you feel. Two years ago, I was homeless. Somebody took me in and helped me, and the only repayment they asked was for me to do the same if I had the chance. I'll help you, and I only ask that you're totally honest with me. Can you do that?"
She nodded and looked at him. "Jennifer...Jenn."
"Ok, Jenniferjenn, for tonight you are sleeping in the bedroom. Lock the door. Use the wedge. I put clean sheets on while you were in the shower. I'm taking the couch. It's late. We'll talk in the morning, but for now we need to sleep. Is that ok?"
She nodded again. "Just Jenn. Most people call me Jenn."
She went to the bedroom and locked the door, shoving the wedge underneath tightly. She put her knife on the table and laid down. Exhaustion took over quickly and before she knew it, she was asleep.
There was a loud noise that roused her from her sleep. It was Jeff knocking on her door. "Wake up Just Jenn, I made some breakfast. We can eat and talk."
She slid the knife up her sleeve and went out. He'd made French toast and bacon. He sat on the far side of the table, waiting for her. "Sit down, take what you want. I'm eating the same thing, so it's safe." She filled her plate and sat down, noticing the glass of orange juice as well.
"Thank you, Jeff."
"Jenn, I do have some plans for the day, and you will hopefully come along. First, today is my laundry day. I'll wash your clothes as well, if you'll join me. Second, I need to make a shopping trip. I would like you there as well. I know you're scared. I get it. I will help you, but there are some rules."
"Like what?" As she ate, her knife fell from her sleeve. "Sorry, I don't trust anyone."
"I don't plan to give you a reason to use it," he assured her. She left it on the table.
"Ok, what are the rules?"
"Ok... First, no stabbing." He smiled when she smiled at him. "No drugs. No prostitution. No illegal activities, if you will. I need to know if you're clean."
She blushed. "Ok, look. I'm 18, and I can prove it. I don't do drugs, I'm certainly not a prostitute, and I don't steal. I haven't been on the streets long, but long enough to know not to trust anyone. For the moment, that includes you."
"I wasn't trying to say anything bad about you. But you have to understand that I don't know you. Today is our 'get acquainted' day. So, to get the worst out of the way, how did you end up on the streets?"
She sighed. "Long story short, I'm a foster kid. I've never met either of my real parents. I've been with a family the last five years, and everything was fine until I graduated. Their daughter, who is a 16-year-old bitch, hated me from day one. Her dad knew she was a problem child, but she stashed her bag of weed in my room and told him it was mine. They told me that they would help me pay for college, I had a scholarship. Suddenly, they told me they couldn't and wouldn't tolerate drug use in their house and I had to leave. Within an hour I went from getting ready for college to being homeless." Tears were running down her cheeks by this time, and she put her head down and cried.
Jeff let her go for a few minutes. "Hey Jenn, I understand more than you know. I was a foster, and the day after I turned eighteen, they kicked me out because I no longer brought in any money. That was how I hit the streets. So, how about we clean up and go do some laundry?"
She collected herself, put her clothes in a laundry basket, and carried them down behind Jeff. He pulled out a bag of change and started loading washers rather haphazardly. "You're doing it wrong." she said.
"This is the only way I've ever done it," he said.
"Let me show you." She separated the colors and various fabrics. "Towels and such you can wash warm. You probably have a lot of shrunken shirts. You have to use cold for them." She took over the loading of the machines, then put detergent in.
He put in the coins and started them, leaned back and looked at her. "Please don't take this creepy, but you clean up very nicely."
"Right. I am built like an eight-year-old boy. Not much to see here."
