His Girl

Volunteer

Saturday afternoon, mom and I headed downtown. This time we were bound for skid row, the heart of the crisis. As we crossed the intersection of Fifth and Traction, I stared with my mouth agape. It didn't look like a developed country.

Tents and tarps were butted up against each other, in front of the faded exteriors of empty buildings. A flock of birds occupied the corner, eating scraps from the scattered trash. The most out of place things were people sitting in living room chairs throughout the sidewalks. An older woman knitted, she looked up, right at me. One eye and no teeth, I looked away quickly.

"Mom."

"I know, it's hard to see. That's why we're here. At least they'll be fed."

"Yeah, at least." My heart was heavy in my chest.

Mom parked behind the mission. A banner with their company name hung behind the food line. A few news crews set up for photos and video.

We entered through the kitchen. Metal racks with oversized condiments lined the wall. It was easy to spot the staff compared to the volunteers.

"My name Shake Shake," a tall thin man held his hand out to shake (of course).

"Lynn and my daughter Chanel. We're with..."

"Lynn!" A clean cut man greeted us. Mom's boss was my guess. "You must be Chanel."

"Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you." A subtle curtesy and wink toward mom.

"We're glad you're here, there's plenty of work. We are putting on a BBQ. Isn't that right, Shake Shake?"

"I just want to know can I eat some too. I ain't homeless no more but I still love BBQ. Feed these girls too, they too skinny." He referred to mom and me. We laughed.

"Oh we will. But that's right, Shake Shake is a success story, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. Praise God. From the streets to prison back to the streets and now I'm sober, I have a job as you can see, and a place to stay."

As he spoke, he set out large bowls with cans that needed opened and mixed. He handed a box of plastic gloves to mom, so we could start helping.

"I learned to run a kitchen in the penitentiary." He was animated and proud of his story.

"Now, you know what I wonder," Mom's boss said. "Why do they call you Shake Shake?"

"Why do they call you Bill?"

"Well, because that's my name." A hearty laugh.

"I was a crack baby, Bill. And my mama said I Shake Shake when she held me. Then, I was a crackhead and I Shake Shake when I need a fix." He shimmied. Mom and I were stunned.

"Now I Shake Shake it off like Taylor Swift." He pointed at me. "She knows." He sang the pop song and danced.

It took time to prepare dinner but soon we were ready to serve. We stood in front of the company banner while the people lined up. The mission staff reminded us to refer to them as guests.

The first man had to be pushed in his wheelchair. My heart was breaking, I felt my face twist, "Mom," I said. Tears were escaping down my face.

"What a nice girl you have, Lynn. She cares about people," Bill said. Mom beamed. "It's alright," he told me, "you're doing great."

I kept scooping and serving and handing out utensils rolled in napkins. As people came through, they were smiling, laughing, saying thank you and telling us how good we were doing. My crying stopped, I was feeling better. Good even.

"I know you," a feeble woman's voice. "You're the girl in the truck with baby B."

I looked up, I recognized her as the woman Breaker gave money and supplies to.

"Oh, hi." Mom and Bill were staring at us. "Um."

"Where's he been?" she asked.

"Around," I said. "Just busy."

"What's that?" Mom wanted to know.

"Keep it moving! Moving and shaking." Shake Shake was line dancing as he hurried the people through. We had to move faster to keep up.

Later, after clean up, mom and Bill circled back with me. Just my luck.

"You know that woman, Chanel?" Bill asked.

"When we came for the concert," I looked at mom, "we just gave out some supplies like toothbrushes and stuff."

"With your boyfriend?" Mom asked. I nodded.

"Were you with an outreach group?"

"No just on our own." I was shifting uncomfortably.

"That's outstanding, Chanel. Wow, Lynn. I am so impressed with your family."

"Me too." Mom stared proud yet puzzled.

"I've got to meet this kid. A high school boy, doing outreach on his own. Unheard of in Los Angeles."

"Me too," Mom said again, the same look on her face.

Mom grilled me all the way home. I told her as many details as I could. The walls were closing in on me. I didn't want to let mom down but I wanted to be with Breaker so bad. It felt like being ripped apart by the limbs. She was dead set on meeting him. All I could imagine was trying to get him to dinner with mom and Bill and them asking him what he'd been up to lately. I gripped the door handle, I felt sick.