Temporary

I releuctantly trailed behind him through the streets, cursing under my breath and stuffing my hands in worn jean pockets. My eyes were locked on the back of his head as I stayed back a foot or two, but they averted to the ground each time he spun around to look for me.

"Come on, slow poke," He teased dryly, motioning with his hand for me to quicken the pace. His less-than-symbolic wedding ring gleamed in the sunlight that barely peeked out from behind the clouds. Shivering at the brisk chill in the air, I caught up to him, sighing sharply when he attempted to give a little smile. "You're the young one, after all," He said lightly, running a hand through his short, black hair and adjusting his thinly-rimmed glasses. I frowned at the bloodshot color seeping into his normally vibrant, blue eyes that matched mine.

"You really think this is the time for jokes, Dad?" I said impatiently, looking up at his tall, gangly frame and feeling my tired eyes roll.

We stopped at a crosswalk, blending ourselves into a horde of Wall Street quacks, starving artists, and wannabe "innovators" with laptop cases under their arms. The sunlight was disappearing as I tapped my foot anxiously, and dark clouds loomed above our heads, which made me shiver even more. Teeth chattering and hands trembling in my pockets, I glanced again at my father. He was shrugging and trying to put on his best optimistic face. He hadn't been an optimistic man in twelve years, he just pretended to be for my sake. However, he didn't seem to realize that I was old enough to see past his thin mask. His face was hard as he turned away a bit, quickly leading us forward with the rest of the horde.

"Someone's got to lighten the mood, eh?" Dad continued, fiddling with the zipper on his old, brown leather jacket. "I know you must hate me anyway as it is."

My head shook in response as we jogged across a street before we could get hit by a speeding taxi. My head pounded at all the urban sounds clashing. Traffic, voices, music, it was enough to diminish any patience I had left. "No, Dad, I don't hate you. I hate the circumstances that led us here."

Sighing, he nodded slowly, staring up at overhead billboards as he shivered.

"I mean," I continued, quickening my stride a bit to keep up with him. "You were the best teacher in that shithole of a school. Those kids actually looked up to you and respected you. It wasn't you who deserved to leave."

"Watch your language, Felix," He responded sharply, giving me a stern look as cloud shadows contrasted with his pallid skin. There was alcohol on his breath. Surprise, surprise. "We all left; it wasn't just me."

Opening my mouth to say something else, I just closed it and nodded, crossing my arms over my chest and gnawing at my lower lip. We walked in silence for the next couple minutes, my father trying to lead the way to our destination while I trailed behind him, lost in thought.

"There are over eight million people living right here in New York City," Mrs. Phillips had said the previous week in history class. "You wouldn't believe that tens of thousands of them are homeless unless you lived here."

Her words replayed in my head, bouncing around in my brain in mockery. The almost harsh tone that I remembered in her voice caused my head to pound and a sour taste to secrete in my mouth, and I cursed a bit at the thought. I rubbed my temples a bit as we walked, biting my lip at the throbbing pain inside my head. Running an unsteady hand through my short, honey-brown hair, I twirled a finger in one of the small curls.

"Just don't blame yourself, Dad," I finally broke the silence as we neared the building.

He turned back to look at me, tears welling up in his light eyes as he rubbed at the back of his neck. He just nodded slowly and gestured toward the large, sketchy-looking building up ahead. "We'll have to get in line."

~~~

After what felt like hours of waiting behind a hunchbacked, scrawny man with an unruly, gray beard and a stench of rotten eggs hovering over him, we were greeted at the door by a mid-thirties, blond man. His eyes were filled with deep brown optimism, and he had a chiseled face that had a wide smile on his face.

"Your names, please?" He asked politely, clicking a pen against the clipboard he had in his other hand, ready to take notes.

Dad cleared his throat and messed with the ring on his finger. "My name's Mark Everett," He began, then motioning to me. "And this is Felix, my son."

The young man looked at me and smiled warmly. "Hi, Felix. How old are you, if I can ask?"

"Seventeen," I said, fidgeting with my fingernails and averting my gaze from him.

"Well then, Mark and Felix, let's see if we can get you guys set up here."

~~~

We didn't have much with us to unpack, but I kept myself focused on that to avoid talking to any of the other men in the room. There were at least ten of them, some in their twenties and some who looked as if they should have already been in the grave. Some were already asleep as the day turned to night, and others were talking in little groups. It was obvious who was new and who had been there for some time. The newbies, like my dad and I, kept to themselves and looked to nervous to even touch anything, while the more experienced residents used the whole room as their own. My hands trembled as I sifted through my small duffel bag.

"Hey," A familiar voice greeted, and when I looked up, I saw my father standing over the bottom bunk I sat on. "The people working here seem nice."

I nodded, looking away from him and turning toward the few clothes I brought with me.

Sighing, he took a seat next to me, running a hand through his hair and resting his elbows on his knees. The eviction notice that had been crumpled in his back pocket was in his lap. "I've failed you, Felix. We both know that."

My stomach dropped and did back flips when he said that, and as I studied his face, I saw the tears forming again in his eyes. A sudden feeling of nausea brewed in my stomach and I placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, Dad-"

"Yes," He insisted sternly, blinking back tears, making my heart ache for him. "I did. But I promise, son, that I'll make this better. Don't worry, it's just temporary here."

~~~