Some of the stories I’ve heard today do involve drugs, or petty crime, or the kind of decisions that only desperate people would make. But every one of them, without fail, has only done those things in the first place because of how badly they were struggling. Unlike me or people like me, they never had the resources they needed to lend a helping hand to them in their time of need.
Can I fault the single dad who stole from a bodega to feed his starving kids? Can I truly judge the person struggling to break her addiction, who turned to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain of losing their parents at a young age? I practically did the same myself, with all my partying days in my past.
These aren’t bad people. They’ve just had a much harder lot in life than anything I’ve ever even had to consider. I feel lucky. And humbled. Very humbled.
“Well, my shift is almost up. Time for me to go in and get warm and get some food in my belly,” Martha grins. “Hey, would you like to come in for some dinner, Sawyer? We have plenty to go around.”
“Thank you,” I respond. “But I actually have an appointment I need to get to.”
“Well, you feel free to stop by anytime,” she adds. “You’re a sweet kid.”
“I appreciate that, Martha,” I reply. “You have been – amazing. Everybody here has been incredible. I’m really glad I got a chance to meet with all of you.”
Her smile is warm and engaging. My cheeks burn with the heat of shame for my bigotry. I judged these people without knowing the first thing about them. And as that realization settles down over me, I feel like the biggest piece of shit who’s ever walked the planet.
“You take care of yourself now, Martha,” I tell her. “Get inside and get yourself warm.”
“Oh, I plan on it. Believe you, me.”
I watch her as she ambles back toward the buildings. A new crowd of people comes out, ready to stand their shift. Martha takes a moment to greet them all, and I can see the affection they have for her. The display of community – family – makes me smile.
I turn and head for my car, my mind spinning with a hundred different thoughts. Today has been enlightening, to say the least. It’s opened my eyes in more ways than one, and I’d like to think, has expanded my mind in ways I didn’t expect. I learned a lot from Martha and everybody else I was introduced to today.
Something starts churning in my mind. I hope this has provided me with the solution to bridging that chasm between Berlin and me – a solution I think we can both live with.
As the snowflakes drift down, landing on my shoulders and in my hair, I try to figure out how to apply what I’ve learned today to my situation with Berlin. And just as I reach my Range Rover, a bolt of lightning shoots through me. I realize exactly what I need to do. My stomach flips with excitement.
I slip my phone out of my pocket and punch in Rider’s speed dial button. I press the phone to my ear and wait for a second until he picks up the call.
“Rider, it’s me,” I say.
“Hey, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now.”
“I know, I’ve been ignoring your calls.”
He chuckles on the other end of the line. The excitement is flowing through me, but there’s one person I need to speak with who can help pull it all together.
“No offense taken,” Rider retorts. “In case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” I cut in, my voice brimming with excitement. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor.”
“What do you need?”
“I need you to call and set up a meeting with Haley Palmer.”
“Haley Palmer? Seriously?”
“Dead serious,” I confirm. “Text me with the details.”
“Okay, you got it,” Rider replies. “This should be – interesting.”
I disconnect the call and drop the phone back into my pocket as I get back into the car, suddenly excited as hell for what’s coming.
Chapter Thirty-Eight Berlin
It’s been almost two weeks since I last saw Sawyer, and I can say with absolute certainty that staying away from him has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I’ve been avoiding him – not taking his calls, not returning his texts, and not answering the door when he knocks.
I assume he’s respecting my boundaries and giving me some space – which I appreciate. I believe it shows the respect he has for me. It tears my heart out to do it when truthfully, I want nothing more than to feel his arms around me. I want to look into his eyes, feel his lips on mine, and hear his voice.
I just want to be with him again. I hate avoiding him when all I want is for him to hold me, make love to me, and spend the night laughing together. And I hate that this massive divide between us exists when all I want is to sit and talk with him.
But Gabby was right. Unless we do something to change the narrative between us, we’re going to keep finding ourselves at this point. It will be an endless loop of us patching things up just because we want to be together – and eventually coming back to this point when I inevitably get upset about one project of his or another because I can’t pretend to be okay with some of the jobs Compass does.
I know that Gabby is right about something else – Sawyer’s lack of concern about the people in housing projects like the Jackson isn’t born of some virulent hatred of the poor. It’s born of ignorance. Sawyer grew up in an upper-class bubble and was surrounded by all the trappings of that world.
