The Darkness Inside Me

7 - Safer

"Outside, there's a man who could use a bowl of soup. Would you care to bring it to him?"

Esin turned her face towards her uncle. "It's raining! Doesn't he want to come in?"

Ohran shook his head. "I think that's still a step too far. You can take an umbrella with you too."

That might be a little too late. Nevertheless, she nodded. "I'll get him a dry sweater too."

She headed to the closet next to the cloakroom, where they were keeping piles of clothes. Once in a while, they organized collection days so they could give the street kids a little extra. With a sweater in her hand, she returned to her uncle, who'd already put a steamy bowl on the corner of the table. In the meantime he'd returned to the kids who were lined up in front of the table, all waiting for their soup.

Esin tied the sweater around her shoulders, took a spoon and the soup, and put it on the windowsill right before she reached the door so she could open the umbrella. The moment she left the building, she knew who her uncle had referred to. On the stairs leading to the realtor on the other side of the road sat a man, huddled and with his face turned towards the floor. He didn't seem to notice the rain that was pouring down on him and his dejection cut through her heart. Crossing the street, she gently sat down next to him, making sure not to spill the soup. 

"Hey," she said softly, holding the umbrella above them and ignoring the wetness that was soaked up by her dress. "Here, I got you some soup."

The man snapped his head towards her, petrifying immediately. 

Esin did the same — for a moment, she was so bewildered the bowl almost slipped out of her hand. 

These facial features, these brown eyes...

A few days ago she had seen this man too, but the resemblance was so absurd she thought she'd been imagining things. 

Hernan... The name burnt on her lips. Yet, she swallowed it. Whoever this was — it was not Hernan. Not so long ago, she'd run into him on the streets. An aura of arrogance surrounded him, something she couldn't see in this young man, with his slumped shoulders. She could have sworn this was his twin, were it not that he never had a sibling. At least not one he'd told her about.

With stiff fingers, the man took the bowl from her. He avoided her glance. 

Esin ignored the resemblance with her childhood friend, who only called up painful memories.

"Thank you," the man answered quietly. 

Esin relaxed a little. His voice differed from Hernan's, who had a Spanish accent — at least when he was younger. This must be his doppelganger, as strange as it may seem. 

"My name is Esin," she told him with a warm smile. 

Skittishly, he looked at her. She felt a pang in her chest. She worked with street children for years and had gotten used to their desperate looks and broken spirits, but facing this grown-up man, one that showed so many similarities with an infamous criminal who had everything his heart desired... it didn't leave her indifferent.

The fear in his eyes felt way too similar and brought her back to a time and a place she'd fleed from. She folded her hands, longing back to the warmth of the bowl. 

"Juice," he muttered. 

Juice? Did she hear it well? "Is that a nickname?" she asked, just to be sure. "Or — are you thirsty?"

"It's my name. A nickname," he answered in a hoarse voice. He didn't elaborate. 

Quietly, he ate the soup. 

Esin took a closer look at him. His clothes looked new and expensive and he didn't seem to be starving. He was definitely not homeless. Then why was he sitting here in the rain? She remembered the sweater she brought with her. With the umbrella clumsily between them, she handed him the dark green piece of cloth. "This is for you. Before you catch a cold."

Juice looked up. The look in his eyes however was empty, as if her words didn't really reach him. Carefully, she draped the sweater over his shoulders. 

"Why are you doing this?" His body looked uptight as if he was afraid that she would ask something in return that he couldn't or didn't want to give her. 

"Why wouldn't I?" she answered simply. 

He averted his eyes again, not giving her an answer. 

Esin bit her cheek, searching for the best way to deal with this. She wanted to help him. This young man was clearly not doing well. 

"I'm volunteering for Victory." She nodded to the meeting place on the other side of the road. "The church I go to. We offer food and clothes to street kids and teenagers. You don't look like the type of guy with a packed agenda, so you could help us out if you like?"

"Kids and teens should stay away from people like me," he muttered. 

"Why do you think that?"

He stared into his bowl. "I'm not exactly a good example. Unless you want to show them someone who fucked everything up."

She felt the urge to lay a hand on his knee but refrained from it. Many of the kids she worked with, came from families that weren't unfamiliar with domestic violence and she'd learned not to touch them unexpectedly — not even when it felt natural. Of course, this man was older, but his vulnerability wasn't inferior to that of a child. 

"Everyone can make soup," she answered in a light tone. "Or at least everyone can learn to make it."

The bowl was empty. Juice had wrapped his fingers tight around it as if he wanted to cling to the last shred of warmth. He seemed to think about her words. Suddenly, it was like a switch was flipped. Terrified, he looked around, shaking his head in determination. 

"It's not safe. I'm — I'm not safe." He jumped up. 

"Juice..."

He turned around and stared at her as if she was the first one in years who called his name. For a moment she didn't know what to say, but it felt wrong to let him leave. 

"We could look for a place that does feel safe to you and meet each other there?" she suggested. 

Anxiously, he stared her in the eye. "There are no safe places. Not for me."

A feeling that felt way too familiar for her. 

"Sorry. I never should have — I never should have come here. I'm sorry." Muttering more excuses, he pushed the bowl in her hands and staggered backward. 

His eyes were wide with fear and once again, he looked around frantically as if he was expecting danger from every direction. Was he intoxicated? Or was he really in so much danger? She got up as well, but he shook his head as she stepped closer to him. 

"S-stay away from me," he faltered. "That's safer."

Then, he ran.

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