Play with Me

“No.” I get into the car and he shuts me inside.

“No?” he asks, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“No. In fact, I think I’ll turn my rental in and wait on buying a car I’ll probably never drive. I can buy one when I need one.”

“We’ll talk about it.”

“No. We won’t talk about it.”

“We’ll talk about it.”

“Ask me again in six months.”

He cuts me an incredulous look. “Six months? This is Vegas. Six months is a lifetime to me. Two weeks.”

“Three months.”

“Christmas.”

Christmas? Will we be together at Christmas?

“Yes,” he answers, as if I’ve spoken it out loud. “We will be together at Christmas and long after.”

“And what if we aren’t? What about our jobs?”

“We’ll be together.”

He starts the car and puts it in reverse, ending the topic of conversation, but I am the furthest thing from dismissed. I slide down into my seat and smile.

* * *

“We’re here,” he announces, pulling into what looks like a fancy movie theater with green neon rimming gray glass.

“This is the shelter?”

“It used to be an entertainment center with movies, games, and shops.”

“Surely it’s outrageously expensive to operate.”

“It is,” he says, and gets out of the car.

He opens my door and I step out. “I’m confused. How can the expense be good for the shelter even with donations?”

“I’ve made it work.” He takes my hand and drags me toward the door, and it’s clear, in no uncertain terms, that he doesn’t want to talk about this.

Another piece of what is becoming a Damion puzzle. I know, though, that pain isn’t easy to explore, and I won’t push him. I want him to choose to tell me in his own time, unlike the way things exploded on me.

We enter the building and it looks exactly like a movie theater, complete with out-of-date movie posters. Damion’s hand settles on my back, urging me toward a stand with people working behind it. “They even have a concession stand?”

“It provides jobs and profit for the center, and Dehlia has strict rules about what can be served on non-movie nights.” He motions me to the left. “Let me show you around. There’s a homeless shelter on the east side that usually has forty people; those residents are transient. The west side houses long-term residents—mostly teens who have no home. We find them foster homes or keep them here until they start an adult life. Right now there are thirty living here. Unfortunately, we only have room for fifty, and we take applications from outside the city when someone special is brought to us.”

“We?”

“I’m one of five people on the board.”

And I wonder how much of this he funds himself. I’m feeling fairly confident that at a minimum he’s responsible for how the money flows through the doors.

We continue walking the property, and for the next hour I am in shock and awe. All but a few theaters have been converted to a dormlike setting, and there’s a sports complex and gym on the roof.