Light the Lamp

by Catherine Gayle

  I smiled and nodded. “I’ll come back. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I worry about all my girls.”

  I knew she did. I’d always worried about all the dogs that came into Helping Hands, until I knew we got them into a good home and they would have a long and happy life. Working in a shelter like Bonnie did wouldn’t be any different.

  She’d told me earlier in the week that she had started working for the shelter after coming to live there for a while. Her situation had been similar to mine—she’d gotten laid off from her job, and eventually she just couldn’t pay the bills anymore after being unemployed for so long. But the shelter had had an opening while she was living there, and she’d taken it. She’d been working here for six years now and said she couldn’t imagine working anywhere else, even though it could be difficult.

  I hugged her again and put the straps of my duffel bag over my shoulder on my way out the door. I didn’t say anything else in case my voice gave out on me. I didn’t want to worry her any more than she already was.

  It was starting to get dark out, and most of the businesses on the surrounding streets had already closed for the day. Other homeless people were starting to stake their claims on entryways to businesses where they could at least be under a bit of cover from the rain. They were stretched out along the concrete, some of them with sleeping bags or blankets covering them, others with nothing more than a few layers of clothes.

  I walked along Second Avenue until I got to Oak Street, making sure I was well past all the insanity leftover from the Saturday Market, and then I followed that to Naito Parkway. I didn’t find anywhere along the way that seemed like a good place to stop for the night. When I passed the Max station on Oak, I thought briefly about using the money I’d earned today to get a motel room somewhere for the night. That would be a lot of money to spend for just a single night, though. The credit card Liam had left for me felt like it was burning a hole through my bag. I ignored it and kept walking, turning on Naito Parkway and taking it all the way down to Waterfront Park. There were a lot of benches along the waterway. It was still early enough that I hoped I could maybe find one that wasn’t already taken. If not, I could find a spot to sleep under one of the trees for tonight.

  One of the river cruises was still out on the water as I approached the park. I watched it go on ahead of me and dock at the other end of the park. After a few blocks, I found a couple of empty benches and decided that was as good as it was going to get for the night. Before someone else could come along and claim them both, I pulled out my sleeping bag, set my bag on the ground beside me, and got myself situated facing the back of one of the benches.

  “This is your first night out here, huh?”

  It was an unfamiliar male voice. I rolled over to look at him. He was tall and skinny, with his hair in long dreadlocks, and he had an overgrown beard that made his dark face appear even darker. In one hand, he had a worn Army rucksack.

  I nodded, not sure whether I should trust this man enough to talk to him or not.

  “Don’t leave your bag on the ground,” he said. He picked it up and handed it to me. “Tuck it in between you and the back of the bench. Wrap your arms around it so you’ll feel if anyone tries to take it.”

  I did what he said and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Do you have anything to protect yourself with?”

  “I…” I shook my head. I hadn’t thought about needing anything for protection. Liam must not have, either, because he hadn’t put anything in my bag for that. “An umbrella?”

  “Here.” He dropped down to his knees and dug through his rucksack. A moment later, he pulled out a pocketknife and handed it to me. “Keep this in your hand so you have it ready. Just don’t use it on me.”

  I didn’t want to use it on anyone. Even just holding it made me feel sick to my stomach, because I knew what he was giving it to me for. “I don’t think I can use it at all.”

  “Then I hope you don’t have to.” He pulled out a sleeping bag and settled himself on the bench next to mine.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

  “Because you don’t belong out here.”

  “I…” He was right. I was as out of place as I could possibly be. That just meant I had to learn and learn fast, though. “Thank you.”

  “The first night is the hardest. Get some rest while you can.”

  I woke up mostly dry, thanks to the waterproof gear Liam had given me, but I ached all over and was a lot colder than I wished I was. It may be spring, and nice during the day, but it was cold at night—especially when it rained. The pocket knife was still clutched in my hand, and I had curled my arms and legs around my bag in my sleep, keeping it close to me.

  The man from last night was already awake and packing away his sleeping bag. I sat up, hurting more with every tiny movement, and held the knife out to give back to him.

  He shook his head. “Keep it. You might need it.”

  “I still don’t think I could use it.”

  “Could you use pepper spray?”

  That, at least, wouldn’t hurt someone permanently. I shrugged. “Maybe?”

  “Then find a way to get some. Or better yet, find a way to get off the streets.” He frowned, but he took the pocketknife and tucked it into his rucksack. “Be careful who you trust out here. Once someone’s been on the streets awhile, they can get desperate. Desperate people do desperate things.”

  Just like that, he walked away in the hazy morning drizzle.

  I gathered all of my stuff and took off, as well. It was Sunday, but the Saturday Market operated on Sundays, too. In no time, this area was going to be insanely crowded with foot traffic. Crowds weren’t really my thing. Besides, I needed to find something to eat since I hadn’t had anything since yesterday morning. Preferably something really filling but cheap. I took the Max and got off near the airport. There was a twenty-four-hour Shari’s restaurant there, and I knew they had a big bowl of oatmeal on the menu for only a few dollars. I could afford that much after working yesterday.

  While I was eating, the phone Liam had given me started ringing in my bag. It was probably him. I tried to ignore it, to pretend that I didn’t hear it. It stopped eventually, and I went back to eating my oatmeal. But then it rang again.

  I dug it out of the bag, intending to turn it off so I wouldn’t have to hear it ring, but the number on the display made me pause. It looked like Ethan’s number. Or at least like the number of someone who lived near him at Stanford.

  I slid the bar on the screen. “Hello?”

  “Noelle? Thank God.” It was Ethan, and he sounded frantic and half desperate. “Hold on, I’m going to add Chris in, too, okay?”

  The spoon dropped from my hand. How had he gotten this number? I’d told both my brothers back around Christmas that I couldn’t afford to pay for the phone anymore, that I’d call them if I needed anything. But I had intentionally not called either of them because I didn’t want them to worry.

  A second later, I heard Chris’s voice on the line as well. “What the hell is going on, Noelle? Some guy called and said he was with the Portland Storm and they were looking for you because you were homeless and had gone missing. Why would anyone from a hockey team be looking for you?”

  “None of this makes any sense,” Ethan added. “You’re not homeless. And why didn’t you give us your phone number when you got a new phone?”

  “Are you working for the Storm now? Is that how you could afford a phone again? I wish you would use some of the money you’ve set aside for us for college. They never paid you enough at Helping Hands.”

  They kept talking over each other, which only compounded the headache I’d had since the moment I woke up on that park bench. Every inch of my body hurt, but not as much as my heart. It was easy enough to withhold information from my brothers. That wasn’t exactly lying—it was just not telling them everything. But I couldn’t lie to them.

  “I’m not working for the Storm,” I said, bu
t they were still talking so much I doubted they heard me. They’d stop eventually, though, if I kept going. I had to keep going or I wouldn’t be able to get it out. “Helping Hands couldn’t afford to pay me anymore, and I lost the house. And then I lost the car.”

  Sure enough, the longer I talked, the less they did, until it was an eerie silence on the other end of the line.

  I tried to push through. “One of the players from the Storm was helping me out—”

  “You lost the house?” Chris interrupted. “You really are homeless?”

  “Yes.” I pinched the bridge of my nose again. “Technically.”

  “Why didn’t you call us?” Ethan shouted into the phone, which only made my head hurt more. “Why didn’t you use some of the college money to get a place to live? God, Noelle. I’m coming home.”

  “There’s no home for you to come to,” I argued.

  “I’m coming, too,” Chris said. “We’ll use whatever insurance money is left to get a place to live, and Ethan and I can figure out cheaper options for college.”

  Which was exactly what I’d been afraid they would try to do. “This is why I didn’t tell you two. You can’t drop out of school now.”

  “Why not?” Ethan scoffed. “You did. You sacrificed everything for us, and now it’s our turn.”

  “It’s not. I made those sacrifices so you wouldn’t have to.”

  “It’s not fair for you to take it all on yourself, Noelle,” Chris said. “We’re not kids anymore.”

  “But you two need college educations to get what you want out of life. I don’t. I’m not going to use that money for something as frivolous—”

  “Don’t you dare try to call having a place to live frivolous,” Ethan growled.

  I pressed my eyes closed, racking my brain for anything I could say to convince them they had to stay put, that I would be able to figure it out without them giving up their futures.

  “Where have you been living?” Chris asked after it had been quiet for a few moments. “Tell us you’re at least at a shelter or something. Tell us you’re somewhere safe.”

  “I have been,” I hedged.

  “Meaning you’re not now,” Ethan said. “Are you on the streets?”

  With each thing I had to reveal to them, I deflated a little further. I just wanted to crawl back to my park bench and pull the sleeping bag over my head and pretend none of this was happening. This would have all been so much easier if they hadn’t found out. Not yet. Not until I was ready for them to know, once I’d solved all of the problems and could explain it all rationally. “I was last night,” I finally admitted.

  “I’m getting on the first flight—”

  “No! You can’t do that, Ethan.” They both still had a few weeks left before finals. I couldn’t let them drop their classes or take Incompletes. “Finish this semester. I’ll figure something out. By the time you are done with finals, I’ll have it all sorted out.”

  Chris sighed. “Use some of the insurance money, Noelle. Ethan and I can get jobs while we go to school to pay for what that can’t cover. Or maybe we can get better scholarships. We can come up with a solution, but we can’t let you live on the streets.”

  “If I promise I won’t be on the streets, will you two promise to finish out the semester?” I didn’t know what I’d do yet—maybe call Cindy to see if I could still stay on her couch even though the thought of that made me feel like a freeloader—but that didn’t matter right now. I had to get them to see things my way, and then I could worry about the rest.

  “Yes,” Chris readily agreed. It had always been easier to convince him to go along with things, so that wasn’t surprising. “But I won’t make any promises about what I’ll do when I get home this summer. We’re a family. That comes first.”

  “Okay.” That would give me a few more weeks to get everything resolved. Somehow. “Ethan?” I prodded since he’d been silent, probably seething, for a few minutes. Since Mom and Dad had died, he’d thought it was his responsibility to look after me. I was the older sibling, though. He’d never liked it that I made sacrifices for him, saying it should be the other way around.

  “I can fly in today, get you set up in an apartment or something, and then fly back. I’d only miss a day or two of classes.”

  “I can do that on my own,” I argued. “I don’t want you to miss any classes.”

  “You can do it,” he replied. “But I don’t know that you will. You never put yourself first, Noelle. Maybe it’s time you did.”

  I’d taken to sending Noelle text messages again in the hope that she had the phone. Because of the iMessage read receipts, even though no one had responded, I knew that someone had been reading them. I didn’t know if it was her or the shelter manager or someone else, but I chose to believe it was Noelle. Maybe that was naive of me. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

  I told her that we’d beaten the Sabres three to one at home and guaranteed ourselves a spot in the playoffs, although we didn’t know what seed we would be yet. I told her we had to leave for another road trip, flying across the country to play all three of the New York-based teams. I told her I couldn’t score anymore. I told her that Babs had brought home a puppy that was peeing all over the hardwood floors, and that Rachel and her kids were going to look after him while we were gone. I told her I loved her.

  That last one was what I told her most often. It was the only part that really mattered. It was so important that I told her over and over again, even if it could only be through text messages.

  I kept checking the balance on my credit card, too, hoping that she’d used it. I’d set up text alerts to let me know if there were any charges, but I didn’t trust the automated system. I just hoped she would use it for something. Anything. I didn’t care if she bought a meal or paid for a night in a hotel or used it to rent an apartment. But no matter how many times I checked, there were no charges posted. She wasn’t using it. Some part of me knew she wouldn’t. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want the help I could give her, but I still wished she would…and before it was a dire need.

  Granted, to me, the situation had gone beyond dire the moment I knew she was gone.

  After the team arrived in New York, RJ and I had dinner with a few of our former Islanders teammates. I took pictures with the camera on my phone when we headed back to the hotel and sent some of them to Noelle.

  When I got up to my room and looked, I knew she’d seen them. That meant she knew where I was and was thinking of her. I didn’t know where she was, but I hoped she was thinking of me, too.

  The next day, after we’d had a pre-game meal as a team, my phone beeped. I pulled it out and checked the message immediately. Noelle had sent me a picture of a sofa made up as a bed. She didn’t write anything; there was nothing but the picture.

  I didn’t know whose sofa it was, and I didn’t care. The only reason I could think of that she would send me a picture of that was to let me know she had somewhere to stay, a roof over her head. She was warm and safe, and hopefully she was eating.

  I could breathe a little more freely, finally, as I sent her a text response.

  Thank you, älskling. Stay safe. Jag älskar dig. I miss you more than you could ever know.

  She didn’t respond. I hadn’t expected her to.

  That night, I got an assist on a goal RJ scored, putting us up two to one over the Rangers. That ended up being the final score, too. I didn’t get a goal, but it was the first point of any kind I’d scored since the day Noelle left.

  I sent her a message that night, telling her about it. That I’d gotten that assist because I wasn’t as worried about her. That I hoped she would update me every now and then even if she didn’t want to have the sort of relationship I wanted.

  The next day was another game day. We played my former team, the Islanders. I texted Noelle a few times throughout the day, hoping she would respond. She didn’t. I also checked the balance on my credit card. No change.

  We lost to the Islan
ders in overtime that night.

  Other than practice in the morning, I had the next day free to spend however I wanted in New York. I ended up walking through some neighborhoods I used to frequent, thinking about my time there with Liv, thinking about all the things I could take Noelle to do and see if she would ever come back to me. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of Reed’s Tattoo shop. They’d done a tat for me before—my wind chimes. I’d gotten it done after Liv died.

  I walked inside, and a couple of hours later I walked out with a sun on my shoulder. It looked down over the wind chimes I had on my biceps. It was a bright sun, joyful and full of light and energy and life. It was Noelle as much as the chimes were Liv.

  I took a picture of it with my phone when I got back to the hotel and sent it to Noelle.

  Jessica Lynch called that afternoon to go over a few last-minute details for the Light the Lamp charity auction with me. The event was only two days away, and we still had another game here, against the Devils, tomorrow. I wouldn’t be there to do anything until the day of the event, but she had it all well in hand. I’d almost forgotten about the fact that it was right around the corner because I was so caught up in worrying about Noelle.

  The next day, after our pre-game meal, I got a response from Noelle again. This time it was a picture of her legs stretched out on a blanket of bright-green grass, covered in one of her bright, flowery, flowing skirts. Her feet were bare. I wished I could kiss them.

  We beat the Devils in regulation and flew home that night. I had scored another assist in the game, but still no goals. When we landed, there was a text message from Rachel, warning us that potty training the puppy hadn’t been going very well so she couldn’t make any promises about what we might walk into when we got home.

  What we walked into was a river of urine running across the dining room floor and an excited puppy racing to greet us. He leaped up, trying to jump into my arms, probably because I was the first one through the door. Babs set to work cleaning up the mess right away, and I grabbed the leash to take the dog down for a quick walk just in case he needed to do anything else.