Walking out of This World

Twenty

It's been awhile since the party started. The clinking of bottles tells me they've added some new excitement. They won't be paying any attention to me for a while.

I hear a zipper rip and feel rough hands tugging at the knot between my wrists. "Shh. I'm going to get you out of here." It's Boss!

I feel the cord fall away and I sit up. Boss opens the door flap and takes a quick look. We crawl out onto the cold ground. The group is huddled around the barrel having to much fun to notice our escape up the hill.

"There's only one safe place for us. That's the homeless shelter," Boss whispers.

The hurt has taken up residence in my ribs and wrists. Every step deposits another bad memory where such things are guarded.

Boss is plodding along supporting my waining body. "Just two more blocks. Hang in there buddy."

It's late afternoon and the kitchen crew is cleaning up after dinner. Boss is taking me to the front desk. I lean over, arms propping up my hurting body.

"Who do we have here?" Paul asks.

Nothing changed here. Same long hair, well trimmed beard and genial expression in his eyes.

"John here needs some help," Boss says.

"John?" Paul steps back. "John from the Road House?"

"Yeah. But...we've...a...kind of gotten a divorce," I reply.

"John, Jack and Guy got into a hassle about property. You can see how that turned out," Boss continues.

"Yeah. We've already banned them from the shelter for fighting," Paul says.

"I don't want any special attention, Paul. I just need a moment." I try to sound confident.

"Hey." He reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. The light in his eyes relay a message.

There's nothing on my side to receive it.

" We always keep an extra bed for emergencies. I'm going to send you upstairs for a cleanup and a rest."

"Thanks, Paul." The words fall out of my dry mouth, tripping over each other.

He retrieves his hand and a soft, commanding tone takes possession of his words. "Just one thing. All our patrons come down at six o'clock for vespers and a snack." His words trail off into another dimension.

"Okay." I start up the stairs, one hand on the rail.

I turn and see Boss heading toward the front door. "Thanks, buddy."

Boss pauses and throws a smile in my direction. "Any time."

I'm greeted by another friendly face, middle aged, clean shaven, short bristly hair.

"You can call me Ringo. I'm your dorm buddy." A welcoming smile crosses his face, lifting his pudgy cheeks up...There's an unmistakable glint of light in his squinting eyes.

A little chuckle escapes, forcing a weak smile to invade my lips.

"That was my street name before I came here," Ringo says. "Most of the guys understand that stuff... Are you a newbie to the street?"

"I guess you could say that." I reach out my right hand. "I'm happy you're here, Ringo."

A warm shower, clean set of clothes and a brief nap on a welcoming bed does wonders for an aching body and a befuddled mind. The brief walk down the stairs carries less hurt.