Worth the Effort: Ella's Story

Chapter 2

     My daily reaction to the boy makes me realize how sheltered I am. For some reason, I hope to prove he's an anomaly. I do some research on the Internet and learn there are almost two hundred homeless teenagers in our county. A couple hundred kids under the age of eighteen without a permanent roof over their heads. I had no idea.
     My chronic cautious behavior toward him plagues me. It makes my stomach twist each morning as I approach the alley. It nags me while I listen to my teachers drone on and on at school. It forces me to research homelessness instead of my history homework.
     I don't want to be the girl who wrinkles her nose at a homeless person. I don't want to be the type of person who judges. So after a couple weeks of shy smiles and polite head nods, I change it up.
Ten minutes after I enter the store, I re-emerge with a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. And a pounding heart.
     "Here. It's kind of cold this morning." With my pulse throbbing in my ears, I realize I might be shouting at him. Maybe that's why his mouth hangs agape and his eyes are round with shock—or maybe alarm.
     When he doesn't reach out to take my offering I squat and set the cup and muffin on the ground. I'm sure he sees my hands shake. Thank goodness the coffee has a lid.
     "Enjoy." I say.
     Yes, I realize what a lame thing that is to say. Like this boy, who sleeps in an alley, cares to savor a cup of coffee and blueberry muffin. As if I'm serving him breakfast in bed, which I guess I kind of am. Though I'm a complete idiot he smiles, the tiniest, slightest bit of a smile.
     I go back inside to my morning prep work feeling good about myself. As if I've granted some kid dying of cancer a last wish or something. As the morning progresses, and I hand cup after cup of coffee to a stream of customers, I see how my action has very little impact on their life. Serving coffee isn't healing the broken arm the dark skinned patron has. It isn't de-frizzing the nest of hair on the woman with the frantic expression. Nor is it decreasing the volume of the guy yelling rude words into his cell phone about lost business.
     Handing the cup to the kid in the alleyway didn't make his expression light with joy. His stance didn't even shift.
     A heavy sigh escapes me and draws a curious glance from Hank.
     I took the coffee and muffin outside to make me feel better about me. Not because I cared one iota about the guy sleeping in the alley. Okay, I care a little bit. It still shocks me to know there are kids without homes and families and beds and food. Yet, what I did had less to do with the boy than it did with me.
     So even after screwing up the courage to do it, I realize I'm not changing a thing.
     I'm still a coward.