The Love Rectangle

Chapter 5

The first two week of classes whir by. My roomies and I are all trying to hammer out our own study, class, relax routines, and it feels like I never see them. I also barely see Connor with the exception of our weekly cohort meeting. We don't get much social time though as we're all focused on sharing our work for the initiative. Brian seems to have backed off also. It's been a few days since he's called or texted, and I happen to see him in line for a smoothie with some sophomore chick. Good for him for moving on. I duck out of there quickly before he notices me.

My first meeting with the Greater Valley Catholic Charities is tonight. I'm told to expect a group of needy families, some who may be in crisis, as well as students from the initiative and Catholic students who volunteer with the group through the church. All students are instructed to wear our standard issue Haverhill College t-shirts to identify us to the families.

I'm nervous and excited to walk into the multipurpose room in the church's basement. I have no idea what to expect. There are a couple families milling about, and helping themselves to the coffee provided by the church. Two students are chatting with the parents and one is playing with the littles. There are also two more students off to the side leaning over a third student whose face is in his hands. I'm pretty certain he's not crying, but he definitely has some shit going on. I decide to avoid that mess, and head toward the cute toddlers dragging their blankets behind them.

I'm just about to get down on their level when a totally cute guy catches my eye. He's wearing a HC t-shirt and spewing Spanish like it's nothing. He sees me looking at him, and breaks for a moment to say 'hi' in English. Then his attention is back focused on the families speaking Spanish. As I busy myself with the children, I'm wracking my brain to place the guy. I don't think I've ever seen him before on campus, but he's seriously cute. He has the friendliest smile and dark eyes. His black hair is clean cut against his dark skin. The more Spanish I hear him speak, the more smitten I become.

"Donde esta tu pero?" I ask a two-year-old who is playing hide-and-seek with his stuffed doggie from me. Dreamboat hears me, and darts over.

"I didn't think there would be other Spanish speaking reps from Haverhill here tonight, but this is great news," he sounds comforted to share the bilingual duties.

"Ha!" I laugh nervously and stand up to talk to him. "I don't speak Spanish. That was about the beginning and end of my Spanish just now. I can understand a little, but that's it. Sorry."

His smile is infectious, and I can feel my smile widening just looking at his. He grabs my hand, and pulls me toward the group of adults he was speaking to before. He starts to introduce me in Spanish, but pauses for me to add my name since he doesn't yet know it.

"Carter. Me llamo Carter." I'm starting to wish I paid better attention in my high school Spanish classes.

Everyone says hello to me, and the conversation continues. I'm so proud of myself for mostly keeping up with what they're saying. The father explains that their basement apartment flooded recently, and they lost all their personal belongings and now have nowhere to live. Dreamboat (I've yet to catch his name) tells the family that he can work with them and a licensed social worker to find temporary housing. He suggests that I might be able to put them in touch with services that will clothe them. He's about to translate that into English for me when I interject, "Got it!" I reach into my folder for a list of services that gather and distribute used clothing in the area. Dreamboat is impressed. I am, too, really.

After we make an action plan with the families, they file out quietly. I finally find out that Dreamboat's name is Mike DiGiorgio. He's a graduate student studying Religious Education. He finished his B.A. in education at Haverhill last semester. By my calculations, he must be about 22. I'm developing a crush on him fast.