'Yeah, you learn to re-evaluate how to measure success doing this work. Don't matter their situation, they're just like the rest of us: too often can't get out of the way of their own bad decision-making and instead take ten paces back.'
'Oh.'
'But you seem to be getting the hand of how things work around here.' Wayne flashed her a reassuring smile. Some people weren't built for the continual heartbreak the job entailed. Pouring themselves into a person only to have them make bad decisions, or continue to hurt themselves or worse.
'I guess.' Esther Baron believed in hope. She had been raised in a family who believed in hope, and strove to pass on that hope. She had been with Outreach Inc. for nearly a year now because she wanted to be a part of the hope. Quiet, though not shy; more thoughtful than anything else, maybe lacking the confidence to share her thoughts, she plunged into Outreach Inc. with both feet. To this day she couldn't describe what she did: mother, sister, friend, confidante, advisor. She was… there. If she had business cards, that's how they would read: Esther Baron — There.
'Don't sell yourself short. The longer you stick around, the more you'll see some stuff that will make you question the world you live in.'
'Like…' Esther's eyes widened and she blushed as if wanting to swallow that last syllable and pretend it didn't happen. Yet there was the pleading of unasked questions yearning for answers behind the strained grin masking her face.
'You want to talk about it?' Wayne asked out of mercy, reading her need to finally talk about what happened that night. That was another thing he had learned about people: they talked when they were ready.
'It's just…'
'You don't know where to start?'
'Is that normal?' Esther eased into one of the dining room chairs.
'Ain't nothing normal out there. Actually, it may be better to redefine what you think of as normal.' Wayne pulled a chair out across from her and straddled it backwards.
'People being killed.'
'Too often.'
'But…' Esther hesitated. 'Ripped in half?'
'I…' Wayne started then thought better of his initial response. There was no immediate transition into a world of trolls, sorcerers, zombies, and dragons unless there were some ten-sided dice involved. Better to start in an easier place. 'You see the kids we work with? They're invisible. No one sees them. They may have a sense about them, the same way you could be in a darkened room and know that you weren't alone. People know when to walk around them or speed out of the way of a bum begging for change. Their powers of invisibility are huge: if you stop to talk to a homeless person, you seem to disappear also. People turn their eyes from you as if you no longer exist. That can do something to a person's psyche.'
'So you're saying I'm nuts?'
'Not at all. Your eyes have been opened. Most people have no idea what goes on in this city. At night. In other neighborhoods. In the shadows of downtown.'
'The kids whispered about dragons over at the Phoenix.' Esther let the words float out into the ether, not knowing if she hoped he would deny it or pray that he wouldn't. She sensed she was opening a door she wasn't sure she could close later.
'That would explain why we've had trouble catching a cab.'
'I'm serious.'
'There's a whole other side to the city. Probably every city. I'm not going to say you get used to it, but you learn to be open to the ideas of other lives and possibilities.'
The moment of silence between them gestated. Then, suddenly aware of it, they glanced down. Maybe he meant to just be reassuring, but without realizing he did it, he had reached across the table and taken her hand.
Many of the boarded-up buildings surrounding the spot at 30th and Central looked like bombed-out brick shells. The sidewalk was chewed up, dented in and split as if something heavy had been dropped onto it at regular intervals. Rush-hour traffic sped along, the snap of car doors making sure they were locked whenever they were caught at a stoplight. The faded purple awning was an oasis, a reclaimed spot within the blight of the neighborhood left to decay. The name Unleavened Bread formed a cross around the 'E' s. Amber lighting suffused the cafe. Two rows of long black tables — topped with glass bowls filled with artificial flowers and surrounded by uncomfortable, tall-backed, wooden chairs with wicker seats along them — led to a formica countertop. Off to the left, a space had been carved out for community or church groups to meet. A mountain vista had been painted on a wall by a local street artist. Wood paneling ran halfway up the wall, the top half of the wall stenciled with gold and purple script of Bible verse references. Revelation 21:1–3. Psalms 34:1. Romans 13:1 and 10:9. Deuteronomy 30:19. And of course, John 3:16.
A woman everyone called Queen took in ex-addicts and ex-cons to employ, believing that everyone needed a chance to turn their life around. A jowlyfaced woman, with short curly hair and dark blotches on her face and thick lines worn about her mouth, wandered from the kitchen to the counter complaining that her sugar was up. With a slow amble, stiff-jointed thick legs and swollen ankles, glasses dangled about her neck by a chain over her orange and black frock. Her heavy bosom rested on her belly.
'Name on the ticket?'
'Percy.'
'Hello, Percy. I'm Sister Jackie, but folks round here call me Queen. What can I get for you?'
'I'll take a bowl of beef vegetable soup.' Percy pointed to the daily special. He tended to order whatever was written on top. Or by picture. Queen also let folks who couldn't afford a hot meal stop in to fill their bellies without question or shame.
'Good choice. Everything in the soup is from our garden in Mulberry, Indiana.'
'You have any toast?'
'We know how to improvise. It's how we do. Make the best of what you got.' Queen smiled then ambled back into the kitchen.
Not wanting to flip through the copy of Our Daily Bread devotional tucked between the salt, pepper, and sugar, Percy found a discrete corner and plopped down to read until his food was ready. A comic book, Cullen Bunn's The Damned, caught his eye. The idea of demons and gangsters had a newfound appeal to him. Sister Jackie brought him out his soup, which he ate without thought or muster. So he never noticed the man sliding into the chair across from him.
'I knew your daddy.' Born Robert Ither, Naptown Red smiled as he settled into the chair. Naptown because Indianapolis was always so far behind all the other big cities, always sleeping. Nothing going on. Red because of the slight reddish tint to the man's hair. Like soldiers, everyone had another name. His back to the wall, he surveyed the other customers and kept note of anyone entering the cafe. Black pants, slick purple shirt, and a crocodile smile under 'cut-you-fornothing' eyes, he didn't look like anyone Percy wanted to hang out with.
'Who are you?' Percy rolled up his comic book. Black moles circled each of the man's bloodshot, heavy eyes. Splotches checkered his face, parts of his skin closest to his hair line lighter than the others. His long feral auburn hair had been straightened but kept unkempt. Percy smelled the alcohol wafting off him. The man rubbed his belly, a sated chieftain, and tugged at his privates too often. Percy always looked into the details of everything.
'Folks call me Naptown Red. What you going to do with your life?'
'I don't know. School. Got to get through that.'
'Thinking about the future. What part you want to play in this here game.' Red fancied himself maneuvering to pick up where Night left off, gambling that it would be easier with the would-be heir in tow. To do right by the boy would give him added street credibility. But as he studied the overweight and alltoo-soft boy, Red took Percy for weak. All knightly virtue seen as a weakness to this would-be next king of the streets: courtesy, patience, gentility, chivalry. All such things needing to be mocked or punished.
'Ain't thought none on it. Don't seem like it's for me.'
Queen brought out his soup without comment. Red eased back until she left. Percy smiled and nodded his appreciation.
'I'm offering you an opportunity. I got a package coming in. Thought I might take care of you with it.'
