Hayden's Shelter

Chapter 1- Second Chance Saints

"Looks good, Lisa. Go ahead and take your boy home," Mr. Baird says. I glare at him from where I was sweeping up the aisle. The way he said boy made it sound like I'm little. I'm not.

I would object, but my mom has that smile she puts on when she knows everything is going to hell and she wants to pretend it's not. I finish adding to the pile of desert dust and customer trash that I'd been building for the past hour. I sweep it all into the dustbin then carry it to the back of the store.

"Thank you for working so hard today," mom starts as we walk across the dimly lit parking lot. It's nearly 9 pm yet the heat still radiates off the blacktop. "It's only a few hours a week... and once school starts you can quit. I know this isn't how you wanted to spend your summer."

"Stop," I cut her off. If she apologizes one more time then I'm going to scream. I kick at a rock and it bounces off the trunk of a palo verde tree. "It's fine, mom."

"You're getting so tall and handsome. You look just like your father when we first met. I know you have big things on the horizon. This is temporary, ok? We're going to get back to ourselves." She raises up on her tiptoes and kisses my forehead like I'm still her little boy.

"Yeah, mom... I know. It's fine," I tell her. I'd complained the whole way here from Orange County. I did it right until we pulled up to a row of pink stucco townhomes where we'd be sheltered for a few months until mom got back on her feet.

"I haven't lived in Arizona in 20 years. I'm just not cut out for this heat like I was at your age." Mom laughs; always trying to make light of an awful situation. She said 'my age' like she was elderly. Mom is barely 37.

It's a short drive back to our new place, or "the shelter" as I'd called it last night after my mom's best friend from childhood, Sybil, and her family helped move us in. Mom did not approve of my nickname for the new place, but she was too tired to argue.

We'll only be here in the desert for a few months... or until my mom can figure out how to get into the workforce and get a career together that can provide for us and get us back to California. She'd assured me this was temporary, that we'd get my dad back home, and that all of this would be cleared up soon. It was a lot to promise after our world had fallen apart.

The shelter, mom grates her teeth when I call it that. It's a simple enough place with a living room and kitchen and small dinette area that holds a two chaired table. Upstairs is laundry, two bedrooms, and a bathroom.

My room is identical to my mothers'. It holds two twin beds, a desk, and a dresser with four drawers emptied out for my use. The walls have faded paintings of desert scenes, a shepherd with his flock of pristine white sheep, and framed quotes from the bible - or verses as they like to call them.

These were missionary quarters. Mom was from here, and her best friend through childhood was a mormon girl. They'd lost touch after mom got pregnant with me, but she had quickly offered us shelter when my mom ran all the way through her contacts list and called her in desperation.

Sybil was waiting for us when we arrived. Her husband was there along with two of their sons who both looked a few years older than me. They unloaded the older SUV my dad bought six months ago to teach me driving.

Sybil offered us a tuna casserole and hugs. She talked happily as if mom had finally decided to move back home. It pissed me off at first, but then I saw mom light up. This nice lady had opened her heart to us and I could see the hope in her eyes.

I watched mom's shell break after two months of struggling through our nightmare. This was a friend she felt safe with and that made me all warm inside. It was beautiful.