Home is Where You Are (6 page)

I can’t explain it. And for the first time in my life, I’m okay with that.

“Can I help you?” The brunette behind the counter asks.

“Can I get a large
mochachino with whipped cream and an extra shot of espresso and…” I turn to Dean. “What do you want?”

“I’ll have a large coffee
, two sugars, and milk please.” He’s a conservative.

“
That’ll be seven sixty-two.” Before I can even reach into my bag Dean holds out a ten.

My mouth falls open.
“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m paying.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Too late.”

T
he girl takes the money obviously not wanting to be part of our little disagreement. 

Frustration and guilt
seep through me. “Why would you do that? I said I was going to buy you coffee.”

“Look
, Anna, just because I don’t have a place to live doesn’t mean I can’t afford to buy you a cup of coffee.”

“But
… No… I…”

His eyes focus on mine
, but if he thinks he’s going to stare me down, he’s wrong.

“I invited you,” I manage to mumble.

“And I appreciate the invitation.”

“Ugh
! You’re impossible.” I throw my hands in the air so he can see just how frustrated I am.

“
Just take your damn hoity-toity coffee and go sit down.”

I don’t wait for her to lead. I
tuck the book under my arm, take my coffee and her frilly drink, and head to the table in the corner. The satisfaction I feel is unexplainable. Just seeing the reaction in her big hazel eyes when I handed over the money was worth every penny. Thank God I raked a yard this morning.

She’s still at the f
ront of the café. Her hands firmly placed on her perfectly shaped hips. Her eyes still wide and her normally heart shaped lips are in a hard straight line. I really shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am.

Her eyes narrow as if she’s trying to intimidate me. I’ve been on the streets for two years. Not much can intimidate me. At least nothing Anna can do.

Anna. I now have a name to go with the face.

Unable to help myself
, I motion to the chair across from me. She rolls her eyes and with her arms folded against her chest, silently stomps over.

“I’m mad at you,” she says, standing next to the chair
.

“Get over it.”
I could care less if she sits or not.

“Are you always like this?”

“Why? Are you always like that?”

“Like what
?” Her eyebrows rise, causing a row of cute wrinkles to form on her forehead.

“So self-righteous.”
 

“Me, self-righteous?
Look who’s talking.”

“Can you just sit please?” I smile as if I’m surrendering.

She slumps into the chair, turning her head away from me. Her arms are still folded across her chest, and she’s doing everything in her power to avoid eye contact.

“Since I splurged on a cup of coffee
, I’d like to enjoy it. So if you’re going to be like that…” I pretend I’m going to stand.

“I told you I would
buy it,” she snaps, and I smile, taking pleasure in the fact that I was able to ruffle that cool, calm front she hides behind. She’s so easy to read. I knew mentioning money would make her freak out.

“I know
. I just like to see you get mad.”

She swipes her cup away and leans back in the chair.
“Whatever.”

“
You could say ‘Thank you.’”

Her deathly stare
rains down on me. “Thank you,” she says with sarcasm attached to every syllable.

“Anytime.”

“So
,” she says, and I raise my chin in her direction. “Never mind.” She goes back to playing with the lid on her cup.

“
What?”

“Nothing, forget about it.”

“Since when do you shy away from hearing yourself speak?”

“Fine.
Where did you get money from?”

“Like I said, just because I’m homeless doesn’t mean I’m broke.” She’s looking at me as if she wants me to ela
borate. Why do I feel like most things aren’t good enough for her? “I robbed a liquor store. Beat up some random guy and stole his wallet.”

Once again her eyes widen, but this time her body tenses up. I bet she’s mapping out the closest emergency exits. This chick is way too gullible.

I lean back and enjoy the way she awkwardly squirms and how her teeth tug at her lip.

“I’m kidding,
” I finally say.

The squirming stops and the tension in her shoulders
eases. “I knew that.”

I laugh. Sure she did.
“I do what I can. I rake leaves in the fall. Shovel snow in the winter. Plant flowers and do a little construction in the spring and summer. Whatever people are willing to let me do.”

“You just knock on people’s doors?”

“Yup. Some won’t let me step foot in their house after I finish the work. Others let me in and give me a hot meal.”

“How much do you get?”

“Whatever they’re willing to give. Beggars can’t be choosers, you know.” My mother used to say that when I wanted vanilla ice cream, and she gave me chocolate instead.

Thinking back on those days, I realize how petty it all was. Knowing what I know now and living as I do, I would give anything to have my mom back,
offering me any kind of ice cream, as long as it included her smile. God, how I miss that most of all. “Why don’t you try and get a job? Like a real job?” Anna asks and I push the memories away.

“I wish I could, but I never know what’s going to happen.
How long I’m going to be in a given place. Nothing is certain.”

“
How long have you been around here?”

“About a year.”

“How long have you been…
?” She stops, but I know what she was going to say.

“Homeless
? You can say it. It’s just a word…and the truth. About two years.”

“
What happened?” She’s nosey as hell, and I don’t know why I’ve already told her so much. There’s just something about talking with her that’s…easy. Natural. Makes me feel almost human.

“A whole bunch of things.”
No matter how cute she is or how easy it is to talk to her, I’m not about to spill my life story. I’ve spent so long keeping it all in. It’ll take time. Staring at her fidgeting hands, I hope there’s a next time.

“Like?”

“You’re being nosey again
,” I say, but kind of like her curiosity. As annoying as it is, it’s also pretty damn adorable.

She sits back and runs her hand over her
forehead. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be.”

“It’s okay. And stop apologizing. It shows weakness.”

“No, it doesn’t. It shows politeness.”

“Potato
, patato. So what’s your deal?” I ask in order to get the conversation off me.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you at the library so early on a Saturday morning?” A pretty girl like her should’ve been out partying all night.

She fidgets with her fingers again.
“My mom’s out of town, and I really didn’t have much to do.”

“Where’s yo
ur dad?”

She looks away from me. H
er cheery disposition fades. “Um.”

“Let me guess
, he left you and your mom.”

The color from her face drains.
“I…I gotta go,” she stutters, grabbing her bag and her coffee.

I jump up. “
You don’t have to go.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” she says as the glass door swings shut.

Unbelievable. She sits here prying herself into my life. I ask her
one
question, and she bolts. That girl has issues.

I take a sip of my
steaming coffee, a nice contrast to the cold air outside.

A million times
I’ve walked past this place, but never stepped foot inside. Coffee is a luxury not a necessity. However, it was nice to have a change of pace.

I
take out my new library card and turn it around in my hand. Anna, I’m sure, doesn’t realize how big of a deal it is that I can actually check books out and have something to read at night. I would’ve sold my soul for that.

Maybe
I’ll stop by the soup kitchen and thank her. She ran out so damn fast I’m lucky I even saw her leave.

I finish my coffee
, savoring every last drop then head to the door. The sun is high on this Saturday, the perfect time to offer my leaf raking services. Before pushing the glass door open, I pull my hood back on.

The first door I knock on is painted red
, which only accentuates the white siding and black shutters. When no one comes to the door, I move to the next house, a white colonial with blue shutters.

“Can I help you, young man?” An older woman with white hair and glasses says. Old people always seem to be the most willing. 

“Hello
, ma’am. I was just going door-to-door, seeing if anyone needed someone to rake their leaves. I see you have a large oak tree in the front that’s lost most of its leaves.”

“My husband was just talking about calling the landscaper.”

“I can save you the hassle, and I wouldn’t charge nearly as much.”

“How much were you looking for?”

“Fifty dollars for front and back.” Landscapers charge at least two hundred. Giving a drastically lower price gives me an upper hand. Sometimes it even gets me a little extra for a tip.

“Fifty dollars?
Well that seems perfectly reasonable. I have a rake on the side of the house. I’ll get you some garbage bags.”

That
should be enough to get me through the next two weeks. If I get done early enough, I can even hit up another house.

A green rake rests against the house.
“Oh good, you found it,” she says. “Now here are the bags. If you need any more just give a holler.”

Now looking
more closely at this yard it’s freaking huge. I could have sworn the oak tree had more leaves on its branches than it did on the ground. I roll my sleeves up and get to work.

The old lady poke
s her head out a few times, and then brings me a cup of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows.

Just like my mom
made for me and Josie after playing in the snow all day. As the chocolate hits my tongue, I feel like I’m back in my old house, sitting at the kitchen table after making a snowman with my sister. But then I blink and reality sets back in.

No kitchen table.

No snowman.

No sister.

I put the mug down and get back to work. After two hours, twenty-two bags, three blisters, and a splinter I’m done. I carry the last bag down to the curb and the lady comes out.

“Finished?” she asks.

“All done.”

“She hands cash over to me. There’s an extra twenty-five dollars so I slide it out and hand it back.

“It’s only fifty,” I say, wiping at the sweat on my forehead.

“I know. But you
did such a good job. I insist.”

I want to hug this woman, but I offer a smile instead. “Thank you so much.”

“I’d be happy to have you back anytime.”

I’ll keep
that in mind for when it snows. “Thank you again, ma’am. You have a nice day.”

The old lady waves as I walk off her yard. I wave
back then fling my hoodie over my shoulder.

My backpack
weighs heavy on my upper body. I checked out four books today, but it’ll be worth it when I have something to do tonight. I reposition the backpack so it’s not pulling me down.

I skip
the house next door since I watched them leave over an hour ago. The next yard is leafless so I skip that as well. The sun has moved closer to the west. I’m running out of daylight.

I come across a small two
-story house surrounded by trees. Leaves scatter across the lawn, small piles forming below the branches. Perfect. The house has pale yellow siding, which could really use a good power washing, and green shutters that need a coat of paint.

I
knock on the door and wait. Within a few seconds the door eases open. My breath catches and my body freezes.

Oh shit.

Anna.

Her
hazel eyes widen. Honestly, I expect her to slam the door in my face, but she doesn’t.

She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed just under her chest.
“You again?  Just because I gave you my address to get a library card doesn’t mean I gave you permission to stalk me,” she jokes.

“Do
n’t get your panties in a bunch,” I say, knowing I’ll get a rise out of her, and with the look on her face I know my words have the effect I was hoping for.

“My panties are not in a bunch. Thank you very much.”

“And I’m not stalking you.”

“
Really? Then why are you here?”

“You ran out on me, which by the way was rude, and you never gave me a chance to say thank you.”

“For what?”