28
MARIA
Liam holds my hand while we cross the street.
The sky brightens toward the east. With our epic night behind us, and hundreds of photos splashed across social media, it’s time to rejoin the land of the living.
It’s time to face my family.
Normally, I love this time of day. In the predawn twilight, the sun hasn’t had a chance to heat the air.
The festive atmosphere of the evening is gone. The streets are quiet; all revelry dissipated. Tourists returned to their hotels hours ago. Bars closed up shop after last call; both patrons and employees have long since sought the comfort of their beds. The storekeepers have yet to arrive to begin the process of opening their shops for the day.
Very few cars are out.
It’s as if the city rests, holding its breath, until a new day dawns.
“What now?” I turn toward my very unusual date.
The only people on the street are an occasional drunk sleeping off one too many drinks and the homeless who survived another day on the streets.
“What do you normally do after you and Sybil go out?” Liam frees his hand from mine, but that’s only to sling his arm over my shoulder.
He tugs me tight as he ambles down the sidewalk. I reach up and lace my fingers with his as I lean in loving the way he feels pressed up against me.
Despite all the dancing, my feet hold up rather well. Not that I don’t want to stop and give them a break, but I’m good.
A few more blocks until we arrive at the Belvedere.
Liam stops for a homeless woman huddled on the steps outside of a drug store. I would normally hurry past, not wanting to get too close, but Liam strides right up to the broken woman.
“Good morning; how are you doing?”
The wretched-looking woman slowly brings her gaze up to meet Liam’s eyes. Confusion and fear swirl in her face as she huddles on a stoop leading to a five-and-dime pharmacy.
When she doesn’t answer, Liam holds out his hand. “My name’s Liam. What’s yours?”
“Patty …” She offers nothing else and clutches at the rags covering her body.
“It’s nice to meet you, Patty.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a five-dollar bill. “There’s a great breakfast place a block from here. Clean restrooms.”
Her brows practically climb her forehead, surprised by his charity. It takes a moment, but she slowly extends her hand. “Thank you.” A tear slips down her cheek.
“My pleasure, Patty.” Liam beams one of his Hollywood perfect smiles at the homeless woman. “It’s a new day and anything is possible. It was nice talking to you.”
Again, confusion ripples across her face. Her bony fingers curl around the bill, but then she opens her palm, staring at the money with awe.
“Thank you, sir.” She sits a little straighter and glances around at her meager possessions.
Liam guides me away, keeping me tucked tight to his side, sheltered and protected from any possible threat.
“Why did you do that?” I told myself I wasn’t going to ask, but I’m too curious. This isn’t the first homeless person he’s stopped to talk to during the night.
“Do what?”
“Ask for their name? Give them money?”
“Because they’re a fellow human being. Asking their name tells them I see them as a person with value. The cash is for food.”
“How do you know they won’t blow it on drugs?”
“I don’t.”
“You’re an enigma.”
“We should never discount a person’s worth because they’ve fallen on hard times. You never know how five dollars can turn a life around.”
“That sounds oddly specific.” I pull to a stop and turn in toward him.
When I stand this close, I have to crane my neck to look at him. Despite that, this feels normal rather than awkward.
“Sorry.” I place my palm over his chest and close my eyes to the steady beat of his heart against my palm.
“Don’t be sorry.”
“If there’s a story there, I’d love to hear it.”
My eyes open when he puts the tip of his finger under my chin. Tilting my face to him, Liam sweeps down to brush his lips against mine.
I melt into the kiss. Unlike earlier tonight, this kiss is gentle and unhurried. My hands wrap around his midsection as our lips glide across each other.
He releases me from the kiss and takes off down the street, but not before taking my hand in his.
“I grew up poor. Incredibly poor. When I was five, my mother lost her home and we lived on the street for a couple of weeks.”
“I’m so sorry.” There’s not a moment in my life when I haven’t been surrounded by wealth. My comments seem incredibly insensitive now. “I didn’t mean …”
“It’s okay, but I remember the day everything changed.”
“What happened?”
“A man in a suit walked by. My mom sat much as that lady did there, only with me in her lap. I was cold, hungry, and crying. The man stooped down, looked me in the eye, and asked me my name.”
“Wow.”
“My mother pulled me back, afraid of strange men for good reason. The man looked at her, asked her name, then gave her five dollars. He told her there was a diner around the corner. It was open, had a clean restroom, and affordable food.”
“What happened?”
“He left, but that stranger changed our lives.”
“How?”
“My mother hadn’t eaten for days. Any change she could scrounge went toward feeding me. She took me to that diner. The only thing she could afford was a kid’s meal for me. The waitress brought my mother water and watched me eat. I remember the look she gave my mother.”
“What kind of look?”
“Disgust. Like my mother was trash. Nothing but garbage to be taken out. The waitress kept trying to kick us out, but I knew to take my time and eat real slow.”
“When the woman got more forceful, loud and mouthy about beggars being nothing but trash, a man came out from the back. He took one look at me, the one plate in front of me, and stared at my mother for the longest time.”
“And?” I know there’s more. There has to be.
“He walked right up to the mouthy waitress, fired her on the spot. I remember it like it was yesterday. He held out his hand, ordering her to give him her name tag and apron. The lady stormed out of the restaurant in a huff.”
I keep still, hoping the story continues. I want to know what happened to his mother and what happened to him.
“The man turned toward my mother and asked if she wanted a job. The pay was minimum wage and the hours long. He said we could sleep in the back until her first paycheck came in, and I could sit in the back booth if I was quiet.” Liam smiles wistfully. “My mother sat there, mouth open, stunned speechless. She shook her head and told me to get out of the booth. I didn’t want to do that. The table had a bottle of syrup, and I wanted a little more.”
“You can’t leave me hanging like this. What happened?”
“He convinced my mother to take the job. When she finally agreed, he told her to wait where she was. When he returned, he brought this huge plate of food. Told her to watch him while she ate and learn what to do.”