by P. S. Power
Instead he went to the front door, to find that about half the young people had taken off and Lucas was chatting with a young woman that didn’t seem much older than he did. She was cute in a heart faced way with hair that was too straight to be fashionable.
He waved from a ways back.
“Not to be a pain, but you need to get her name and number and get back to your job.” He looked at the girl who seemed a bit shocked to see him, and the now legitimately red-face kid. He gestured at the girl, feeling slightly mean, but kept it out of his voice. “You two can meet for coffee or something, in a few days. Right now Lucas is busy helping to keep things running. Though you can help too, if you want?”
She shook her head.
“Can’t. I can do coffee though? Here, let me get that number for you, Luc.” She dug in her bag.
Daniel headed back toward the door to see a slightly strange looking expression on Lucas’s face. He jogged in though, and looked up at Daniel on the way past.
“Do you know who that is?” He spoke as if awe were his natural language.
“Not a clue. Cute though. You got her number? Now, just remember to call her back and don’t play games about it. Women hate that. Especially when they’re young and already insecure.”
Lucas stopped inside the door and whispered.
“Sondra. She goes to my school. I didn’t think she was interested in things like this. I…”
Clapping him on the back, they returned to the meal, which was moving along again, if more slowly. It sped up as soon as the boy moved into place, and started working again.
Jen was in the kitchen still, but popped her head out and made a face.
“Well, that’s great, all those people just left, we’ve been hustling to make sure we had enough for everyone. Oh, well. Hey, that was something, wasn’t it? I wonder if anyone will put it up online? We should do that. Have a video of the event.”
That was a horrible idea, but he didn’t want to tell her that in public. People on hard times didn’t want their faces all over the place, advertising their troubles. He wouldn’t at least, if it were him. Luckily his wife wasn’t just pretty, but smart as well. She shook her head and sighed.
“Except, not, of course. Well, it isn’t like this is going to be on the news or anything. That’s too bad, in a way. Maybe someone would actually start thinking about things, if it were being played?”
They would. For about ten minutes. Some would even spread the word by changing their Facebook page avatars. The problem being that no one would understand what they were trying to get across and they wouldn’t do anything that helped even a single person. The idea that complaining got anything done was a conceit of the young.
In real life, nothing changes unless you changed it. You, personally, had to stand up and do the work. Yes, sometimes others would join in, but most of the time you were alone in things like that. It was easy to dance around in a costume for a minute and then leave.
It was a lot harder to serve people food, even for one day.
It was very easy to make fun of people like that, yuppies and their children coming out to “give back to society” for one afternoon per year, but at least they did something. Most did a lot less and felt like giving a few dollars here and there was enough. It took time and effort to make things better.
Daniel didn’t let himself chuckle, but he knew that he sounded like some kind of preachy television ad. Next he’d be the one dressed in traditional garb, dancing and telling people that only they could make a difference. It was a hard thing to get across, and most just didn’t care.
Some did though.
Lucas, Lil’ Captain Red-Face there, he cared. Enough to come out in public and make a fool of himself, and then stay to help do something useful. It was kind of inspiring.
His sister, well that one was harder to tell. She was kind of bland, compared to the others. A hard worker though, and even if she was clearly made uncomfortable by some of the people there, she tried to hide it and had showed up.
The elders in that family… Well, they looked silly too, but were trying.
Ben, the military cook had worked his rear end off all day too. They’d met while he was in rehab for his injuries, and this was three days before he was shipping back out to the Middle East. A thing that he’d worked really hard for. He’d heard about the free meal and volunteered to help, without even being asked. Most of what they had to serve, he’d made himself.
So, yeah, some people really did get the idea. Jen and Shel too. If they hadn’t helped him, the whole thing would have never started. It left him feeling warm and sentimental for a bit, as he put out some warm rolls and then went to wipe down some of the tables as people started to leave. They had pie too, but it needed to go out, so he called to some of them, trying to get people to stay.
It worked.
Then he frantically set up the pie area, with help from Jen and Benny, even as a few people waved and left anyway. Those were mainly families, so hopefully they had things to do, and good times waiting for them at home.
Once that was done, people descended on the pie and whipped cream like it was going to run out. It wouldn’t. They’d saved money by making the things themselves the night before and had plenty. He got the idea, that people were afraid the good things wouldn’t last, but no one needed to worry about it. They were set that way.
As the clock rolled around to just past five, the new people coming in slowed down and most of the remaining people weren’t really eating anymore, having had enough already. They had enough for seconds, which he announced, and a few people took him up on. It was a lot to eat, after all. Also a good point, in a hallmark way of looking at things.
They had plenty for everyone, just because they’d shared.
Daniel shook his head a bit and kept on working. That was the one part of the holiday that no one made fun of. Even on the Res. It was good to remember what you had to be thankful for. It went beyond his friends or even his family, for him, he realized. He was thankful that people had come to help, and that others had this food to eat. It was a sign that the world wasn’t always a bad place and that they could make it better.
Thinking that, he ran to refill the whipped cream dispenser.
If they ran out, who knew what might happen?
Chapter five
Blake
It was hard for Blake not to keep looking at his son and shake his head. Proudly.
If your kids had to rebel, having them become socially active was far from the worst thing that could happen. In fact, it was one of the things that he wished he’d done a lot more of, when he was younger and had the time. That and the energy. It was too hard, some days, to even imagine going to work and then turning around and doing anything other than sitting in a comfy chair, watching television all night. Having enough time to actually plan, and execute something like the little show they’d just had was simply unheard of in his world.
Working sixty or seventy hours a week took a toll on a person. For the first few years it had seemed fine. He did his job and fit his life in when he could. It had been part of the dues that had been expected of him. Then it just hadn’t ever stopped, for some reason. A lot of the others in the office managed to spend a lot more time with their families, or just having fun, but he’d never made time for it. Not really.
That was his job, getting the food on the table and helping to teach his kids how to be responsible adults. If he had to suffer a bit, so that they could have everything, then he’d do it. In a heartbeat. Eventually Lucas would calm down a bit, and go off to college, possibly into some career that would help the world a little more than being a lawyer did. Botany or environmental science, maybe.
Allison, his daughter, now she was a bit more of a worry. She wasn’t horribly shallow, not compared to most of the kids he saw on television at least, if that was a good way to judge, but she wasn’t deep either. Really, she seemed pretty happy to just go with the flow, most of the time. Go on dates an
d whine about being made to work once a year. True, she’d had some good points in her arguments, but Blake really was afraid that she could turn out to be lazy, if she was given a chance to.
Still, in the moment he was proud enough of his boy that those unhappy thoughts weren’t exactly plaguing him.
That meant he noticed the old woman that came up to the counter for some food immediately. She was worn, in both body and clothing, but had clearly tried to make herself look presentable. She walked with her head high, and wasn’t dirty like some of the people had been. Or, at least she wasn’t as dirty. It was clear that she was homeless. She had that multi-layered and hodgepodge look about her. She also moved slowly, taking a tray with pained deliberation, and slid it forward with a gentle smile. Her hair, what showed of it, was thin, and pure white, and her eyes were yellow with age where they should have been lighter.
His voice was gentle when he spoke.
“Turkey? Would you like white meat or dark?”
She seemed to be thinking about it for a bit, looking from one part of the serving container to the other, as if trying to make up her mind.
He let his smile go a little bigger.
“Or both?”
“Oh, yes, thank you, that would be lovely.”
He didn’t load the whole tray up with meat, most people seemed to like the other parts of the meal better, but he gave her a healthy serving, just in case she was too proud to come back for more, if she were hungry later. Some of the people here were, he thought.
That wasn’t a thing that he thought about, most days. Pride.
A lot of them were just sitting there, enjoying the warmth of the room while they had it. There was a homeless shelter in town too, but most of the men wouldn’t be allowed in it. They didn’t have enough space, so women with children were given priority. Then single women. Most of the time the men had to fend for themselves. It wasn’t good, or fair, but it was how things always seemed to work out.
Here though, everyone could just sit in peace and relative comfort, waiting until Daniel, the man in charge, decided to kick them all out.
The old woman caught his eye again. She moved with grace, and didn’t hurry, but it was just possible that she couldn’t really. Mackenzie, his wife, rather lovingly placed a nice serving of cranberry jelly on the ladies tray, then passed it down to Lucas for some stuffing and mashed potatoes. She thanked each person as she passed, and when he saw her, Benny, the guy from the kitchen, ran out to help her get situated at a table. He limped as he did it, his right leg working a little stiffly.
Kenzie caught him looking and shrugged a bit, speaking softly.
“I think his prosthetic isn’t set right. I’ll mention it to Daniel. I’m willing to bet he knows whoever is working with Ben on that.”
Blake had to help another person coming through the line, so didn’t exclaim about that little factoid out loud. His prosthetic? He hadn’t even thought that the man might have been missing a leg. He was, what, twenty-five? Maybe younger than that? It was horrible, if it was the case.
On top of that, he’d been running for hours, on his feet the whole time. Blake wondered if he should offer to help in the kitchen, but knew he didn’t have the skills needed to do that. Plus, it might insult Benny. It was clear he could do his job. He had been, for hours before Blake and his family had even walked in the door.
“It looks like it’s slowing down a bit.” Blake said this in a friendly enough voice that the rest of his family nodded, and Allison started to wipe down her section with a damp cloth. She’d had to do that more than the rest of them, since she had gravy. It was nearly impossible to keep that from going all over the place.
His black pilgrim hat shifted again, which was annoying, and his pants fit in an uncomfortable manner, since he’d started to perspire just a bit. The steam table did it, he thought. It was moist heat, and he wasn’t really used to standing like he had been, in one place. It could also be that he hadn’t eaten anything that day. It was silly of him to forget, but being around food and being hungry could make him feel a bit nauseous at times.
Lucas was saying something, that he didn’t catch the first part of, feeling a little light headed.
“So, then Daniel said, ‘you’ll have to get her number and set up a date for coffee now, so you can get back to work.’ I could barely speak, but she gave it to me anyway. This is so awesome. Sondra Hopes. Now I just need to steal the car and I’ll actually manage to look cool when we meet up.” There was, thankfully, a playful sound to the words.
Standing like he had been had apparently pulled something in Blake’s upper back, or pinched it. His left arm was tingling a bit, and sore. So was his lower back, but that was just to be expected carrying as much weight as he was. It distracted him for a minute as his wife frowned at their son.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” There was just a bit too much seriousness to the words, but Lucas handled it decently.
Mackenzie wasn’t a sweet woman, and her sense of humor could leave some things to be desired, but she meant well and wasn’t mean or angry all the time either. Her kids were used to it, having grown up with her. That meant they pretty much had the skill of “mom management” down cold.
“I know, don’t worry, I was kidding. I’ll take the bus or walk.”
His mother gave them all a considering look and then fixed Allison with a stare that was too harsh for the situation. That could be a problem. Allison and her mother were alike in some ways and one of those was not backing down easily when they felt they were right.
“I’m sure that your sister could drive you.” It was one of those moments that could start a minor battle, normally. They all knew it too. Even Jen, Daniel’s wife, stopped and didn’t say anything as she walked out, standing behind them all with a new container of gravy.
Allison just nodded.
“Sure, if you’re going out late. If it’s early, take the bus. Being driven around by your sister looks a little babyish if you do it all the time. Like you need me to hold your hand. No girl is going to think all that highly of you if you do that.” She smiled and moved around so that the old gravy container could be pulled from its steaming metal hole and replaced with the new silver container.
Since no one was coming through the line, Blake set down his serving tongs and rubbed at his arm again. It was hurting a bit more now. The heat was starting to get to him as well. No one noticed, thankfully, since they were all too busy debating the merits of what Allison had just said. Jen nodded, as if simply agreeing and Lucas himself seemed to think it was reasonable. It was Mackenzie that had a problem with it.
“You’re just trying to get out of doing it. You know, when I was your age I had three younger siblings to watch. Every day. We didn’t have a car at all, so I couldn’t take them many places, and walking with a six year old over any kind of distance takes work. You should be grateful that your father and I got you a car at all.” She was being a bit snippy, which probably meant she hadn’t eaten either. That was a thing with her. When he didn’t eat, he got light headed. With her it was angry.
Lucas however straightened his costume shop Indian vest, which looked to still have a tag on the back, because that spoke to authenticity, and shrugged.
“She’s not wrong. Besides, she did say she’d do it if I wanted. I mean, I’m sure that will change if I try to take her up on it, but taking the bus is better for the environment anyway.”
There was a look between the two of them, his kids, that spoke of more understanding then he would have expected, which was shown by a small sidelong look at their dear mother. She smiled at least, and played with the cranberry jelly a bit. No one was coming through the line anymore, which meant that Blake could move around some. The pain from his arm had moved into his back, and while it wasn’t killing him, a bit of stretching couldn’t hurt.
Maybe he could grab a few napkins and mop his brow?
He started to do that, when there was a loud commotion from the ot
her section, out where the tables were.
“Keep your hands, off my pie!” The man that said it was big, but fat, and seemed slow, if the voice could be counted on for that. He had a rough beard that ran down his neck and made it look like he didn’t shave at all. “Stop telling me that! I can eat pie if I want to!”
He was bellowing more than screaming, and the poor person he had a problem with seemed to be invisible. There was a subtle shifting from the other people in the room, as he stood and pulled his small paper plate away from the table. Clearly protecting his pie from the thief that wanted him not to have it.
“It’s mine!” He carried on in this vein for a while as everyone watched him, Blake didn’t know what to do about crazy people, except not make eye contact and possibly toss them some coins to distract them while he made a clean getaway. Really he was waiting for Daniel to fix the problem, but it didn’t happen, since he was doing something in the back.
In fact, no one did anything at all, even when the large and no doubt justifiably angry man flipped his table over, then kicked his chair angrily, storming out quickly. That left a void behind him, one made up of silence and a few shocked glances.
Those mainly came from himself and his kids. Even his wife just sighed and shook her head a bit.
Lucas however was the one that spoke.
“We can’t afford good mental health care for those that need it, but we can keep bombing Middle Eastern Countries for no apparent reason?” It was the kind of things that kids said, but he got a dirty look from Benny, who’d run out to see what the problem was. Wisely, the man, who had a tattoo on his arm, didn’t respond otherwise.
After all his son was, more or less, right. There was nothing to do about it at the moment though. Thankfully. The mentally challenged fellow had been bigger than he was and with the way his arm was aching, the man might just be able to beat him up, even if he didn’t mean to. That thought got more rubbing. It didn’t help at all, even if it seemed like it should. The pain was definitely coming from two sources. One was his back and the other his stomach. That just burned though, and he’d dealt with that kind of thing before. Heartburn.