Crow - The Awakening

by Michael J. Vanecek

  She nodded and wiped her cheeks. "Here, you have your own bathroom and our kitchen is your kitchen." She pointed back at the kitchen. "And here is your key." She dangled a key for him. He hesitated, a little overwhelmed then reached up and took the key. He wondered if she was clairvoyant or something. Because when he called her, it only took her a few minutes to get to the homeless shelter.

  "Why are you doing this for me?" Steven had to ask but was having trouble putting words together. He wasn't anyone special to go through this effort for, and they'd only known him for a couple of days.

  Charley came up behind Sarah and put his arms around her waist. She put her hand on his arms and smiled. "That's just who we are. Who he was." She reached out and squeezed his hand lightly. "And I have a good feeling about you, Steven."

  "Trust her. She has a way of seeing things in people others miss," Charley said, giving her a lopsided smile.

  Steven nodded, looking at the room, feeling welcome for the first time in what seemed like a very long while. "I can't tell you what this means to me. It's been a really, really bad few days." Sarah smiled and hurried off to busy herself so she didn't cry more. Steven wondered for whom she was crying. Her lost brother, or him. He looked at the bed and hoped he wasn't going to be causing a deeper problem than just an inconvenience.

  Charley looked at her then at him. "Hungry?

  "You know, you kinda look like a Crow." Laurence smiled at the disheveled man that was strapped down on the kitchen table. He looked at the drivers license and turned it sideways. "I wouldn't call you Steven, though. See?" He leaned over the table and showed the license to the man. "Those black curls give it all away." He stood up, looking at the license. Finally, a solid lead. Except, where was the owner? He looked back down at the man. "Maybe I'll call you Fred."

  He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. It was a cheap chair that matched the decor of the apartment. It smelled of ether in there and Laurence looked in the kitchen, where there was collection of glass jars and pans. "Cooking meth, huh? Dangerous." Laurence leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, "It's a fire hazard." He smiled, letting that sink in as he sat back up. The rest of the apartment was a mess from the struggle but the thief never really had a chance. Laurence did like a good scrap, however. Too bad this one ended so fast, he thought to himself. But crackheads rarely put up a decent fight and he felt a little cheated.

  "So... Fred." He looked at Steven's drivers license. "You want to tell me about this?" The instant the man tried to apply for a Visa with Steven's drivers license his number was up. They traced him to the mailbox office he was using for his address then back to the apartment.

  "I found it, man. It was in the dumpster!" The thief wiggled on the table.

  "Do I look like a cop?" Laurence leaned over, picking up a lighter and flicking it. The man looked at the cookware on his counter and shook his head, hoping it was the right answer. Laurence grinned.

  One of the collection team members came into the kitchen and handed Laurence a bag that was full of money.

  "That's mine! You can't take that, it's mine!" The man Laurence named Fred struggled against the straps. Laurence looked at him and the man suddenly stopped struggling.

  "There must be..." Laurence fingered through the money, "...twenty thousand dollars in here. Maybe more." He smirked at Fred. "I'm sure you worked really hard for it." Laurence sniffed the bag, smelling the familiar scent of the forest. "Ah, now that smells right." He smiled at the bag, then looked at the thief psychotically. Fred gulped, pulling back.

  "Have you ever played the twenty questions game, Fred?" Laurence smiled wider as he handed the bag of money to the agent and picked up his lighter again.

  Steven flopped down on his bed, disappointed. Even with his temporary drivers license, he was still a minor and none of the computer businesses he was applying at were interested in him even as an intern. "This is ridiculous."

  Sarah leaned over from her painting, looking around the corner. "What is?"

  "I can program circles around the best they have and have already designed chips and circuity in my own systems and they won't even look at me." Steven pouted. "And they treat me like I'm some..." he didn't finish. Well, he was a kid so he couldn't blame them for that. "I finished college already. That's got to count for something!"

  Sarah grinned and went back to painting. "Honey, it's hard for everyone nowadays." She put her brush down, stood up, and put her smock on the stool she was sitting on. Steven knew she was going to come in and give him a pep talk, but he was more interested in being frustrated at the moment. Even so, he still scooted over some as she sat down next to him.

  "You're at the very beginning of things, Steven. You've got to give things a chance." Sarah put her hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid the worst bruise that had yet to heal. It had been several days but some of the wounds were rather severe and Sarah wondered if they shouldn't have gone to the hospital. But Steven was healing faster than she expected for the most part. She leaned over to get his attention as he stared at his knees.

  "Half of them wanted a masters." He looked up. "I worked hard to get my bachelors and they still wouldn't even look at me." He felt badly for his godparents since they paid for most of that education.

  "That just means the other half is still an option," Sarah consoled him. "There's a job out there for you, Steven. I know it. You have to give yourself half a chance."

  "When I turn eighteen. That's months away!" Steven laid back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

  "Maybe you need to aim a little lower," Sarah said.

  Steven lay there, fuming. He wondered how he could aim anywhere at the moment. The state of Washington won't let him work without his godparents permission and he didn't want to contact them until he was on his feet and working.

  Sarah leaned toward him. "The manager of this building is looking for help here. I'm sure she could do something under the table until you're eighteen."

  Steven looked at Sarah. "What kind of help?"

  "They lost their maintenance assistant recently and her son is having to do it all by himself." She raised her eyebrows and smiled. "What do you think?"

  Steven looked up at the ceiling. He had been so focused on getting computing work that he had neglected any other opportunities. But he found it hard to concede to that logic. He wanted the computing job to further his search for his parents and couldn't imagine a menial job making a useful contribution to that goal. "Hmm," Steven grunted.

  Sarah got up and stepped out of the room. "Think about it, okay?"

  Steven nodded.

  "Sir, I need to ask you about one of your customers." Laurence flashed a badge as he walked into the mailbox rental business. "A..." Laurence looked at his notes dramatically, "...Steven Crow opened up an account with you recently?" Laurence looked up and smiled amicably.

  The manager looked at him for a moment. The smile was disarming. "Yep. Name is on the box." He pointed to the row of boxes.

  "Has he been in recently?" Laurence rested his elbow on the counter as he looked at the box that had Steven's name on it.

  "This morning." The manager looked back down at the magazine he was reading.

  Laurence noted it and glanced at the periodical. "Ah, you like fishing?"

  "Not really. It was left on the counter." The manager looked up.

  "Can you tell me the physical address Steven put on his application?" Laurence still smiled.

  "Do you have a warrant?"

  "Why, it just so happens that I do." Laurence reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill and put it on the counter. The manager looked at the bill then looked up at Laurence, not saying anything. "Oops, that's not the warrant, is it? Here..." Laurence put another hundred on the counter.

  The manager typed in the computer and scribbled the address on a sheet of note paper and handed it to Laurence. "Always happy to cooperate with the police." He smiled, sliding the money off the counter.

  "And it's a
lways nice to get such cooperation." Laurence beamed and looked at the address. It was the address of the house in the hills they had already searched. He sighed, chiding himself for thinking it was going to be so easy. "Well. Thank you, sir, you have a good day. And try that fishing. You might like it," Laurence said as he left the business.

  Once in his car he placed a call for surveillance to be placed on the mailbox rental then headed to his next stop.

  It was another day of futility as Steven walked back to the apartment building. He was facing seemingly insurmountable problems that just didn't make sense. The two year's experience requirement seemed to be a common denominator, and he couldn't figure out how people could get that experience if no one would hire them. Being a college graduate had not been the slightest bit of help since he was still a minor. He kicked a pebble on the sidewalk in frustration. His search for his parents had been almost totally derailed because of his search for work.

  The issue of being a minor also consistently raised its ugly head over and over again. It seemed that no one wanted to touch him until his godparents signed off on him. He couldn't wait until his birthday to get work. That was several months away. He had tried to be frugal with his remaining money, but clothes to interview in did not come cheap, especially where he was trying to find work. Bus passes were not expensive, but even that added up over time. Things were starting to nickel and dime what little he had left down to nothing. He desperately did not want to abuse his relationship with his hosts and money or the lack thereof could definitely cause stress that he desperately didn't want to cause them.

  Sarah's recommendation came back to mind. It had only been a day. Steven wondered if the position was still available. At this point in time, he had to agree with Sarah. Lowering his expectations may be the only way to keep pushing forward. He was hesitant, however. He had no idea what the job of maintenance man's assistant would require. While he was certain a job at a computer company would be trivial and he would easily fit in, a job at the apartment represented a large unknown for him.

  An elderly lady ahead of him looked like she was fumbling for something in her purse when the cloth bag of groceries she was carrying fell out of her grasp and spilled on the sidewalk. Other pedestrians hardly gave it a look as they walked by, leaving the lady trying to save her tomatoes and other grocery items from being trampled. Steven instinctively jumped in the way of one pedestrian that was more intent on his texting than where he was walking, and started to pick up the food before the lady's meal got smashed by the passersby. It shocked him how people could just ignore this poor old lady when it took so little effort to stop and lend a hand.

  "Oh, thank you, dear," she said as Steven relieved her of her bag and put the last remaining grocery items in it. He hoisted it to his shoulder, winced and changed shoulders, then waited for her to get her keys out of her purse.

  "Up here?" Steven nodded to the steps up into his apartment building. She had looked like she was about to enter that building before the mishap.

  "You are such a sweetie," she said as she put her hand on his arm and he helped her up the steps. She tried to put the key in the door’s lock, but her hand was shaking so Steven put his hand on hers and helped her guide the key in and opened the door for her. He followed her in and down the hall to her first floor apartment and waited for her as she fumbled with her keys again, this time dropping them.

  "Oh, I am such a mess today," she said in frustration as Steven picked the keys off the floor and unlocked the door for her.

  "That's okay, ma'am," he said, following her into a very tidy and humble little apartment. Knickknacks and lace made up the common motif of the decor in the apartment, as well as vintage furniture and a quaint upright piano in the corner. "Wow," he couldn't help saying.

  "You like it?" She led him to the kitchen.

  "Cozy." Steven grinned. There was no lack for things to look at.

  "Right here. Oh, thank you, son. What's your name?"

  Steven had trouble getting the bag to stay upright so he got to work putting her groceries up for her. "Steven, ma'am."

  "You're a peach. Yes, right there will be fine," she said, pointing as Steven put her potatoes in a hanging basket.

  "There you go. You okay?" Steven folded the bag up and looked around for a place to put it.

  "Here, I'll put that up." She took the bag from him and he turned to head out the door.

  "How do you like your tea, Steven?" she called after him. Steven stopped and peeked back in the kitchen. She had put a teapot on the stove.

  He hadn't planned on staying, but he didn't exactly have any pressing plans either. "Just tea," he said.

  "I like mine with a bit of raw honey and cinnamon." She pulled a couple of cups down from the cupboard, and looked at him. "It's supposed to be good for you."

  "That'll be fine." He hadn't had honey in a while and wondered how his hives were doing. Thankfully, bees kept using his methods take neglect really well. But he did feel for his customers and wondered if he had made a good decision leaving all that. His godfather knew how to tend bees, however. Surely he would work them while Steven was away.

  She had the tea made in a few minutes and led Steven out to her little coffee table by the couch. "Oh, silly me. I didn't introduce myself. My name is Margaret."

  "It's nice to meet you, Margaret." Steven smiled and sipped his tea. It was actually very good. He took another drink and decided he would have to find some raw honey for his own. There were so many things he took for granted when he was at the homestead.

  "I own this building," she continued, sipping her tea. "Well, most of it. Controlling shareholder."

  Steven raised his eyebrow. That was a surprising revelation. Sarah and Charley own their little apartment but there were many in the building that leased theirs. Steven wondered how that arrangement worked. Margaret sipped her tea, giving Steven a measured look and Steven took another sip.

  "Sarah told me you were having trouble finding work?" Margaret asked.

  Steven almost choked on his tea. He didn't know that they had talked about him and suddenly felt at a disadvantage. "Yes ma'am, that's right."

  "What sort of work are you looking for?" She took another sip.

  "Well, computing primarily. I graduated college but I'm still too young for most of the positions."

  "That's just amazing!" Margaret exclaimed. "A degree already?" She shook her head, impressed. "You must be a very bright young man."

  Steven shrugged. "It hasn't been much help." Steven explained as he fiddled with his cup of tea, a little self conscious talking about himself.

  "What did you do back home?"

  "I sold honey and helped my dad with his organic farm and stuff." He didn't want to go into the complexities of the godparent relationship and technically, Jonah was his adopted father.

  "So you know how to work." She smiled, finishing off her tea.

  "I guess so." Steven took another sip. He felt a little uncomfortable with the discussion and suddenly felt more than a little interrogated. "I should probably go." He fidgeted, finishing his tea.

  "Oh, you're fine." She took his tea from him. "More tea?" She didn't wait for him to answer before pouring another cup of hot water over the tea diffuser.

  "I guess." Steven didn't want to be rude, and it helped that the tea was rather tasty. He looked around the apartment at the abundance of collectibles, then at the piano.

  She brought the cup out to him and sat down with hers. "Do you play?"

  "A little." Steven sipped the tea.

  "Let's hear something." Margaret smiled, holding her hand out to the piano. Steven raised his eyebrows, but figured why not.

  Sitting at the piano he played a little to warm up then looked at her. "Anything in particular?"

  "Play what you just played." Margaret sat back.

  "That was just warming up." Steven looked at her. He didn't really know what he played.

  "Go ahead. It sounded good."

  Ste
ven turned around and thought. He played a few notes then instantly recognized it. Groaning inside, he sorely wanted to stop. It was the Elvish love ballad again. Why was it constantly popping up?

  "Yes, that's it." His host smiled, closing her eyes.

  Steven sighed and leaned into it. It felt good to caress the keys of the piano and he realized that it had been some time since he last played. Sally usually hit up the piano at home and he and Jonah would play guitar. The song he was playing still tugged at his heart and he was happy when he finished it. Looking around, he saw the Margaret still sitting there, her eyes closed. Was that a tear? He coughed and got up from the piano.

  "I think you'll do," she said, sitting up and looking at him.

  "What?"

  "You'll start tomorrow." She took a sip, a twinkle in her eyes.

  Steven was suddenly lost. She grinned at his confusion.

  "Don't worry dear. My son may be a bit eccentric, but he's a sweetheart inside and he'll really appreciate the help." She patted his arm.

  "Is this an interview?" Steven asked.

  "Of course." She put her cup down. "Sarah believes in you, and now I see why."

  Steven didn't know what to say. He had not seriously considered a non-tech job in spite of Sarah’s insistence. But with being blocked left and right in his job hunt in the technical sector, he was starting to get disillusioned with the whole scene. The sudden change of fortune left him a little stunned.

  Margaret stood up, no longer so shaky and weak, and she took the cups into the kitchen. "Plus, I have a treat for you I think you'll like."

  The roof of the apartment building had a lot of room and it was almost completely filled with what appeared to be raised beds and a greenhouse, a small collection of beehives off in a corner, and several large tubs planted with fruit trees in another corner. Steven stepped out of the service elevator and took it all in, stunned. Margaret walked out behind him, not saying anything. The beds were not planted with anything currently but still had the dead plants from the last season's crop. Steven put his hands in the soil of one of the beds. It was fresh and rich and smelled of humus as he disturbed it and he could feel that the soil was alive.