Every Bright and Broken Thing

Chapter Twenty - Ezra

The Sanctuary is true to its name. In a matter of days, this place has become a refuge. I haven't found Elaine yet, but my eyes search for her every time I come here to eat a warm meal, or take a hot shower, or just talk with people who don't see me the way I see myself.

Mama Gracie and Papa Wilbur have become fast friends of mine. Her words the other day weigh heavy on my heart. She reminds me so much of Mom. I've spent a lot of time these last few days thinking about what the future would have looked like had she never died. I imagine she might have looked a lot like Mama Gracie: weathered, but free.

I worry about them; worry about if they're staying warm in the chill of the Chicago autumn, if the walls of their van are too thin and their skin too frail. But I'm starting to learn that they're stronger than I first thought. In some ways, I feel like they have more life left in their bones than I do.

Tonight, after dinner – tortilla soup this time – I finally see Elaine. She wanders in through the front door, cloaked in a winter jacket that hangs past her knees. Her black, curly hair protrudes from beneath the faux fur-lined hood. With gloved hands, she removes her jacket and hangs it on one of the posts just inside the door. I don't take my eyes off of her for a second because when I see her, she reminds me of the person I used to be and I'm starting to think that's not such a bad thing.

Underneath the jacket, she wears a bright yellow t-shirt and denim overalls – her clothes almost as vibrant as her eyes when they finally land on me.

"Ezra!" She squeezes between tables and chairs as she makes her way toward me. I stand to pull out a chair for her. "Aw, thank you. That's nice of you."

"It's nothing," I say as we sit.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, an arm wrapped around Mama Gracie in a hug. I admire her for the way she connects with these people – people I used to be so accustomed to ignoring, avoiding. The world forgot about these people, about us. Who will remember?

"I..." I pause, fidgeting with the bottle of pills in my pocket, unsure what to say. "I was wondering if you were looking for any more volunteers."

Her face lights up. "Always! But don't you have work?"

I white-knuckle the pills, my knee bounces up and down. Papa Wilbur casts a sideways glance my way, eyebrow cocked. "Sure, but I figured I'd take some time to... give back to the community."

"Aww, that's sweet of you. We sure could use the help. Gordy's the only one we have to do dishes in the back while Audrey and I do all the food. Would you mind giving him a hand?"

"Yeah. Totally. Real quick, do you guys have anything around here for me to cut my hair? It's getting a little crazy and I don't have anything at home." I chew on the lie, hating the way it sounds and knowing that Mama Gracie and Papa Wilbur see right through it. I avoid eye contact with them and just smile at Elaine.

"Give me just a moment," She stands, then disappears down the hall.

As I briefly consider making a return trip to The Drunken Sailor, Elaine reappears with a small, black bag.

"Thank you so much," I say.

"Don't take too long. We've got a mountain of dishes in the back with your name on them." She winks, laughs.

I smile. "Don't worry. I won't be long."

In the men's bathroom, I set my backpack on the counter and strip my shirt off so as not to get any loose hair stuck in the fabric. I give myself a quick once-over. I've lost a bit of weight – a lack of regular meals for days on end tends to do that to you. Being athletic, it's always been easy for me to maintain weight and muscle, but even now I can see the outline of my ribs just a little too much and the muscles in my arms and legs have grown leaner.