Homeless

Chapter 6

Derek's POV

As I follow Danielle into the kitchen, I start to feel the slightest hint of attraction towards her. The feeling is odd and I'm not 100% sure that that's what it is but she's growing on me.

"Alright," she says once we're in the pantry. "I usually start with this wall here as these are the items with the longest shelf life." She grabs the inventory clipboard and we start to go through the process together.

By the time we're done, three hours has passed. I put the clipboard back and help Danielle take out the trash.

"Well..." Danielle wrings her hands together awkwardly as we stand outside.

I don't have much to say as it's clearly time to say goodbye. I know her awkwardness comes from the uncomfortable reality that's in the air. After a day of work, I'm back to sleeping on the street and she's most likely going home to a fancy, NYC apartment.

"Well thanks for the job," I say, nodding my head at her. I try to end our interaction so she can go. She's definitely more uncomfortable than I am. "I'll see you around."

"I—" She stops once I walk away and take a seat near my stuff.

I open up my now cold spaghetti and take a bite. It's cold but delicious.

I look up to see Danielle still twiddling her thumbs.

"You can go now," I say, between bites. "You don't have to feel bad. You've done a lot for me."

Danielle nods slowly. I watch her and can almost see the internal struggle. I internally will her to go, already uncomfortable by her awkward glances between me and the ground.

"Okay," she finally says. She sounds defeated. "I guess I'll see you around?"

I nod at her as she goes back into the bakery and locks the back door.

Five minutes later, I see her walk past the alleyway as she heads home. We share a final moment of eye contact as she less than subtly takes one last glance my way.
—

Danielle's POV

I can't shake how bad I feel basically returning Derek back to the streets after hours of working with him.

While he's quiet, he's a good worker and fast learner. I only had to show him things once before he quickly picked up on them. Not to mention, he also did a great job cleaning the storefront.

I kick off my shoes when I get home and hop in the shower.

I continue to want to do more for this man and I don't know why. Unfortunately seeing homeless people in NYC is nothing new. I've never felt the need to do more than spare some change.

But for Derek, I feel the need to go the extra mile.

--

Derek's POV

I open my little calendar book to see that it's once again Sunday. As I make a little check mark to keep myself aware of the days, I mentally prepare for what my day is going to look like.

The first bits of sunlight are just appearing in the sky. I hustle to get ready so I can make it to the shelter by 9am. If I'm there earlier enough, I can get showered, pick up my weekly groceries, wash my laundry and be back to the bakery in time to start work at 1pm.

The 2.5 mile walk usually takes me close to an hour but today I find myself basically jogging. It's hard to do, carrying my backpack and a trash bag, but I appreciate my job at the bakery and want to make it back in time.

When I get to the shelter, I'm sweaty. Thankfully I am only the 4th person in line and I should be able to get in and out in less than 2 hours when the shelter opens. I look up at the large clock that sits outside and it's only 6:45am. I set my stuff down on the floor then lean up against the wall.

"Hey!"

I turn to see the kid I met last week while in line.

"Hey," I reply. I give him a nod then return to minding my own business.

"This place has been great," the kid says.

I look at him to see him smiling largely at me. If he's anything like I was at his age, he thinks he's escaped whatever trauma he's facing at home. The reality is, living on the streets presents a new trauma of its own.

"Good," I say to the kid. "Keep your head down and stay out of trouble." It's not much in the way of advice but I felt the need to say something.

"Definitely," the kid responds. "What's your name by the way?"

"Derek." I decide to entertain him because we still have another two hours before the shelter opens. "What's your name?"

"Asher."

"Nice to officially meet you."

Asher and I chat off and on for the two hours that we wait for the shelter to open. In that time, I learn he ran away from home because of abuse from his foster parents. He got placed into the home of two greedy pigs who were taking in abandoned children simply for a government paycheck. To top it off, they were treating these children like manual labor, beating Asher and his foster siblings when they did not meet their every demand.

Asher finally said enough was enough and, after hearing his story, I don't blame the kid.

"Next!!" yells the man checking people into the shelter. I say goodbye to Asher and get to work getting things done.

The first thing I do is throw my blanket and clothing into a washer, located in the laundry room. After putting the clothes in, I take the key assigned to my washer and dryer and tie it around my wrist.

I grab a new pair of jeans, some boxers and a red t-shirt from the free clothing pile before hopping in the shower.

Showering at the shelter is probably my favorite part of my Sunday. As the hot water and soap cascade down my body, I feel the impurities of the week start to fade away. It's a restart. A fresh start.

I pump some of the shelter's shampoo from the wall dispenser onto my hands. I massage my hair and scalp, making sure to get all of it. My hair is shoulder length. As much as I want to cut it, I also haven't found the strength to cut it. Having long hair allows me to hide from unwanted stares.

I rinse out my hair and turn the water off. I dry off using one of the shelter's towels then wrap it around my waist.

After slipping on my new set of clothes, I approach one of the mirrors and decide to pull my dark brown hair back into a bun. It reveals my face and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I decide to keep it up just for work. It will be good not to have my hair in the way.

My beard is long so I give it a trim. I don't take off too much because it also gives me protection and makes me feel hidden. I clean it up just little.

I look myself over once more before heading back to the washers and dryers. I quickly transfer my stuff to a dryer, lock it then go find my groceries for the week.

The shelter kitchen and dining area is huge.

On the left side is an area built to look similar to a small grocery store. There is fresh produce, ready made meals and lots of pantry items. There are also some basic hygiene items.

This week I don't grab too much as I still have some pantry staples from last week. I decide to just grab some fruits and a small vegetable platter. I also grab a couple ready made meals that don't need to be refrigerated.

After grabbing my groceries for the week, I pass by the hot food portion of the shelter kitchen. Usually I sit and have breakfast then hang around for lunch and dinner but today I have to be out by noon if I want to make it to work on time.

I scarf down today's breakfast of blueberry pancakes before going back to the dryer to fold and bag my clothes.

By the time I am done with everything, it's 11:45am. I grab all my stuff then speedwalk my way back to the bakery.