Worth the Effort: Ella's Story

Chapter 8

The sky is a clear blue. I stare out my bedroom window at the sunny day, but grimace at the frost coating the lawn wherever the shadow of the house touches. Picking up my phone, I swipe the screen to activate it and press the weather app. Twenty-eight degrees.

I bite my lip and scrunch my eyes closed.

I haven't seen Ayden in days. Because of exams, and then winter break, my schedule has been completely different. I miss him. I'm worried about him. I know I shouldn't be, for so many different reasons. I don't really know him. I shouldn't even trust him. He certainly wouldn't want me to worry about him. And yet, I am. I do. Constantly.

I stride out of my room to the hall closet. I dig around inside until I find a sleeping bag. I stare at the pillow, but then shake my head and close the door.

It's only 9:30 in the morning when I get to the alley behind the restaurant, but Ayden isn't there. I hug the sleeping bag to my chest and walk around to the front of the restaurant and head toward the library. There's a park nearby where I know a lot of homeless people hang out. It's worth a try.

He isn't there.

Gnawing my lip, I approach a group of kids. A boy and a girl sit close together on a park bench. They are laughing at another boy's efforts to keep a footbag aloft. The girl sees me first and narrows her eyes. Her boyfriend notices her expression and glances over to see what she's looking at. His attitude is dismissive, like he expects to find judgment. When he finds me, a cruel smile curls his lips. I almost turn and run.

"What do you want, Uptown?"

I spare a glance at my outfit, wondering what about it looks uptown, but dismiss the thought. That isn't important. When I look up again, my stomach curdles under the disdain in his expression. I swallow, hoping to wet my desert-dry throat.

"Do you..." Words abandon me. My fear of this rough looking, twenty-something guy far out weighs any I felt for Ayden in the past. I step backward, shaking my head.

The girl rolls her eyes. "Don't worry about him. What do you want?"

The pink tinged white stripe in her otherwise dark hair is distracting. I stare at her heavy boots instead, wondering if her feet are that big or if they don't fit.

"Do you know Ayden?" Will only a first name be enough?

I look up in time to see her eyes widen in surprise. She knows him.

"No," her boyfriend answers.

I glance at the kid who was playing with the footbag. He's eyeing the sleeping bag I'm clutching like a shield. I consider giving it to him.

"It...um...seems like maybe you do." I address the girl again. She's the least threatening of the three, but not by much.

She shifts her gaze away from me and let's her boyfriend handle the rest of the conversation, which mostly consists of me stammering and him glaring at me. In the end, I leave them with no additional information.

The cold permeates my wool coat as I wander up and down the streets of downtown. I'm aimless with no idea where to look for Ayden. It seems there are homeless people everywhere. Tucked between buildings, perched on benches, sitting, standing, wandering. Far more than I ever noticed before. Why are there so many? Have there always been?

I can't bring myself to approach anyone else. When I finally find my way back to Read Between the Beans, my feet ache and I'm cold. I step inside to get a cup of cocoa and rest before going home. I line up behind a customer at the counter. Another customer grips her mug in her palms while she browses the bookshelves of used paperbacks. A man, with a messenger bag over his shoulder, rifles through the current day's periodicals.

"Good to see you, kid." Shirls, one of the owners, who works most day shifts, says as I step forward. "What's with the sleeping bag?"

"It's a gift." I'm non-committal. Since Christmas is next week, she accepts the response without question. I order my cocoa and tuck up in a corner table that looks out over the sidewalk.

All the customers are cared for, so Shirls pours herself a cup of coffee and sits with me. "How's school?"

I shrug. "Okay. Glad to be on break."

"Have you heard from any colleges yet?"

I shake my head. I don't tell her I haven't sent any applications. Somehow she's under the impression I'm more driven than I am. Maybe because I've dependably opened the restaurant for her the past two years, she thinks I have a solid plan, and I've acted on it—when in reality, my work ethic is more motivated by how much my toiling away in a common job annoys my parents. They both have this wacky double standard. They want me to be successful, but in a highbrow, silver spoon sort of way, not from actual hard work. Staring at my cocoa, I consider sending an application or two during winter break.

"You will," she says.

I smile like I'm agreeing and then look out the window.

There's Ayden across the street. Walking purposefully down the sidewalk. He's got a different coat on, so I almost don't recognize him, but his flop of dark hair catches my attention. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his coat. His straight posture and long stride are striking.

"I'll be back." I grab the sleeping bag and dash through the door.

I look both ways for traffic and, though it's close on both sides of the street, I rush across anyway, waving an apology to the drivers of the two closest cars. Ayden's legs are long, and he's walking fast. By the time I get close enough to call his name, I'm panting from the effort.

He spins to a halt, and his face goes oddly blank when he recognizes me.

I jog the last bit and force a smile as I try to catch my breath. "Hi."

He's wearing a wool peacoat like sailors wear. It's old, a bit tattered, but he looks very handsome in it. With flushed cheeks and wind blown hair, he's more attractive than I've noticed before. I'm glad my own cheeks are already red, but when he cocks his head I know he recognizes my increased awareness.

"I was looking for you," I say. Though I only want to flee. Everything feels wrong.

"Why?" His attention halts on the sleeping bag, and slowly comes back to me again.

"I worried that you wouldn't go to a shelter even though the weather is colder." Suddenly I'm yammering. My heart tells me to keep talking so he can't and my head has stopped working entirely. "I know you're completely capable, Ayden. Don't take this wrong at all. I just want you to have what you need to survive the cold nights."

I shove the sleeping bag in his direction. The sage green color seems too feminine all of a sudden. Panic wells inside me, and I want to hide the bag behind my back. Beg he forget I ever offered. Instead he steps forward, reaching for it, but stops just short of taking it. He's so tall.

"You were looking for me to give me this?" His brow wrinkles as he stares at the sleeping bag. Shaky hands close around either side of it, and I notice he's wearing black leather gloves. The seams are worn, but they look sufficient. I smile as relief fills me.

When I look up, our eyes lock, and my stomach somersaults. I can't read his expression. Thankfully, I don't see any anger. I was worried he would be offended.

My mouth blurts again. "I know you can take care of yourself."

Half a smile flirts across his face. "You said that already. I'm glad you feel that so strongly."

"I...I..." Honestly, I have no idea what to say. I can't bring myself to admit how much I worry about him.