20 Questions

Chapter 67

On the walk back to the lodge, Helen tells us about her life before she lost everything. She was a middle school teacher and her husband worked for a local bank. Their son was eight years old and loved baseball. They were big in their church group and volunteered every chance they got. They had a few friends but spent most of their time together as a family. The night of the accident, Helen was at parent-teacher conferences. Her husband and son had gone to a Colorado Rockies baseball game. Her husband had two beers at the game, but it was over a three-hour period. He was in no way incapable of operating a vehicle. A car crossed the center line and hit the man and boy head on. They were both killed on impact. When Helen described the moment she found out, it felt like my heart was being ripped violently out of my chest. The police showed up in her classroom to deliver the devastating news.

The investigation showed her husband only had a blood alcohol level of 0.02 which is well below the legal limit. A few members of the church found out and accused her husband of drinking and driving and killing her son. Even if the alcohol wasn't involved, it was the other driver that crossed the center line. She sobs as she talks about these "Christians" that turned their backs on her when she needed support the most. She had no other family and was completely alone. She spoke of her depression and how she was unable to return to work. She hasn't been able to drive a car due to debilitating anxiety. She lost her job which lead to her losing all her money and her house. She had been on the streets for several months before we found her. I watch Hunter as he listens to her tell us her heartbreaking story. He is patient and listens cautiously. He never interrupts her or compares his terrible situation to hers. He is respectful and compassionate. I am once again deeply moved by his strength.

We take a seat at one of the tables and order some food. I tell Hunter that I need to run out and grab something. He looks confused but doesn't push. I give him a quick kiss and tell him I will be right back. The shuttle bus takes me to the local Walmart and I grab some clothes, toiletries, shoes, pajamas and undergarments for Helen. I want her to have some clean clothes to put on after her shower.

I wonder how long it has been since her last shower or the last time she slept in a real bed?

When I return, the food has arrived and Hunter is almost done eating his. Helen eats slowly as she looks cautiously around the room. Some of the lodge guests are staring at her unkempt appearance, giving her shameful looks and it's pissing me off. If there's one thing that chaps my ass, it's judgmental people. I shoot daggers at every one of them from across the room and when they catch my gaze, they tuck their tails between their legs and look away. I'm fully aware of what my expressions can do to people and I'm not afraid to use them to my advantage. They have no right to judge this particular book by her cover and they need to quit deflecting from the ugliness within themselves. Glass houses and all that.

I sit down across from Helen and eat my food. I know it isn't her fault, but she could use a shower. Hunter has gone to his room to pack up his stuff and move it to mine. Helen and I talk until our food is gone and Hunter returns. We walk Helen to the room and I give her the bag of stuff I picked up for her at Walmart. She thanks us repeatedly and we provide her with my room number in case she needs anything.

"I'm so excited about taking a real shower instead of washing off in a gas station sink," she confesses. "I've been able to cut it down to five minutes because that's all the time you get before the gas station attendants catch on to what you are doing and make you leave."

I hadn't considered how much simply taking a real shower is something I took for granted. While Hunter confides in her about his own gas station bathing experiences, I study Helen. The dirt on her face is streaked and her scalp has the white flakes that result from not scrubbing properly. Her black sweatshirt and baggy jeans hang on her and the fabric is worn so thin, you can almost see through it. Her once-white tennis shoes are now gray in color and have large holes in the front, leading me to believe that she's been wearing footwear that is too small for her. She looks tired, completely exhausted. My heart hurts for this life that she's living right now. This life of loss, desperation, survival.