Homeless Heart

Chapter 8

Phin

A few months later.

For a few months, I tried not to think about Duke too much, missing the only real emotional connection I'd had in my twenty years. After the first week at the hotel, I was back living rough and Christmas and New Year's were hard on me. I was lucky to get into a shelter during that time, and I did my best to help wherever they needed a pair of hands. During the holidays, the shelters were busy, and they especially needed people to cook. I was grateful to have learned that skill while living with Duke.

Living back on the streets, I was happy when someone looked me in the eye and acknowledged my existence. I'd forgotten how much I'd enjoyed conversations with people and laughing. Man, I missed laughing. There wasn't much reason to smile these days, but it wasn't for much longer.

As Duke requested, I called him once a week to check in. Unfortunately, I lied to him and told him I was staying on a friend's sofa. I didn't want him to worry about me or worse, come looking for me.

Deciding to take Mayor Otis's advice and pay it forward, I’d go to a shelter early and start to help and eventually became a welcome addition to the volunteer staff. Working at the shelters, helped with my loneliness, I was able to keep clean, and I got a bed most of the time.

Sleeping in a shelter with so many people, many of whom had mental health issues, meant you didn't get a great night's sleep. It also didn't help that my anxiety from being back on the streets and being closer to my parents caused me to have nightmares about being beaten. I did my best to get a bed in the far corner of the shelters so I wouldn't wake anyone. The nightmares wee particularly vivid in that it was a trip down memory lane more than a dream.

When I was younger, my father often would come into my room without provocation and drag me into his study to beat me. He'd bend me over his desk, in preparation my shirt would already be off. Each strike of his thick leather belt would slash my skin, often causing open welts on my back. The anger radiated off him, and the smell of his favorite expensive whiskey filled the air.

Once, I'd mistakenly asked why he was doing it, and he stopped and paced around his office, breathing liked he was a trapped bull. "Why, Phin? Why am I beating you? You don't seem to ever learn!" He didn't answer the question, he just kept ranting and pacing.

He hit me again with the belt, and I cried out, "Stop. Please!"

"No, Phin, I can't stop. You need to learn. You need to do better; you need to be better." He never waited for me to respond; it was like I wasn't there; it was like he was in his head.

I never knew where my mother was while this was going on. She was probably passed out somewhere on the other side of the house.

On the nights I'd have the nightmares, I'd wake suddenly trying to get my bearings.

"Just a few more months," I would chant to myself like a mantra.

Another night after a terrifying nightmare I lay on the cot trying to go back to sleep, I thought about one particular beating that was exceptionally bad, I wasn't able to go to school for a week. The maids had to bring me my food in my room, and I wasn't allowed out in case someone saw me. Josie our cook always took good care of me. She often snuck treats and food up to me that my father had forbidden like her homemade cinnamon rolls. My father thought they were too costly and greedy. He couldn't have a fat son.

When the pain from the beatings was too bad, she held me and rocked me to sleep. Josie did her best to try to comfort me. To this day, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon still reminds me of her. More than once, I'd begged her to take me home with her, so jealous of her kids having her as a mother. I remember seeing her cry on a few occasions when she had to leave me there with my parents.

As I lay in the cot trying to understand my parent's lack of affection, I thought about my father and his childhood. I'd never met most of my family; I'd only ever seen them in old family portraits of unhappy people, all over the house. As a kid, I didn't understand my father, but as I got older, I realized he must have been a victim of abuse too. Of course, that didn't make my abuse forgivable, but I was trying my best to come to terms with his actions.

When I helped out at the shelter, the residents always had interesting stories to tell you, and I felt they wished for company too. After I finished volunteering, I would head to a local café and drink a cup of coffee and try to be a normal person. I really craved conversations now, so I talked to anyone. Small conversations were like teasing a starving man with a scrap of food. I was friendly to the girls at the cafés who gave me work but often they wanted more from me than a chat, but I learned from Lana I couldn't get close to anyone and risk the possibility of exposing myself. Occasionally, when I got very lonely, I'd go someplace quiet and call Duke to find out how everyone at the bar was doing. My body shook from laughter as he regaled me with stories about the regulars, and I had to smile at the feeling of happiness that permeated my soul. The joy after one of those calls would last a few hours then the loneliness would hit me again. Calling was often a mixed blessing, but I wouldn't stop. I owed it to Duke and myself.

Today I was sitting enjoying a cup of black coffee watching the people dashing in and out of my favorite café when the sound of swearing and a strawberry-blond whirlwind burst into my life. Luckily, today, I was feeling like a real human being, not an "invisible." I had a new shirt from the shelter, and it looked nice on me. My time on the streets and at Duke's had turned me into a clean freak about my appearance and my surroundings. Now on the streets, I was still obsessed with both keeping my appearance and cleaning up at the shelter. The staff at the shelter loved me for it.

As I sat nursing my coffee, my eyes locked onto that petite woman as she swore like a dockworker. I couldn't tell what she looked like because she was looking down at her phone, and her eyes were hidden from me by her hair. She wasn't having a good day, from the sound of the cursed frustration and her threatening her smartphone with bodily harm. Watching her swear and struggle brought a smile to my face, and I couldn't resist getting closer to her.

I moved from my usual spot at a corner table to stand close to her. I couldn't explain it; I was drawn to her; I know it was creepy, but her pull on me was unstoppable. Before I clocked what I was doing, I was standing next to her; I realized what a vision she was. Her wavy golden hair lay down her back past her shoulders. The sunlight hit her blond streaks, changing the color. I wanted to lean in and gently inhale, but thought I'd better not.

From where I stood behind her, she would fit perfectly against me if I just pulled her close. She must have been about five eight because she came right under my chin and I was a little over six feet tall with my boots on. Looking down, I saw she was wearing a small heel but seemed like she'd be a tiny thing in my arms.

I was getting ahead of myself; this woman was no one to me. All I knew at this moment was I wanted to buy her a cup of coffee, smell her hair, and talk to her for the rest of the day like an average person. Shit, who was I kidding: I wasn't an ordinary person. Following her around was nuts. I must be horny; it had been a long time since I'd been with a woman or even my left hand. All I could imagine was staying here the rest of the day, smiling at her, and laughing at her swearing like a sailor.

As the line moved, we got closer to the counter. She was still distracted with her phone, but she stopped to order her drink.

"I'll have a double espresso, please."

I cleared my throat. "Stacy, I'll get this espresso for her; she looks like she needs someone to buy her a coffee."

Stacy pretended not to be surprised at my request. "Sure, Phin, no problem." Stacy was shocked when I pulled out money. I used my savings sparingly, it was only meant for emergencies, but I kept a little cash on me just in case. She probably assumed I was broke because I helped out at the café from time to time and they gave me free food and drinks. Plus, I think she liked me, so she'd let me hang out during the day.

When I peeked over her shoulder at her phone, I saw the cracked screen. I could still see the icons on the phone through the fragments of cracked glass. My smartphone was an older version of her broken one. Anything worth more would have had me beaten up and robbed on the streets.

She was still staring at her phone. "Thanks for the coffee, you didn't have to do that. You are right. I am having the worst day. My phone just slipped out of my hand and cracked." She scrubbed her hand over her face; sheer frustration was written all over her. "Shit, this couldn't happen at a worse time. I am such a klutz." She swiped her finger across the screen on her phone and winced. "Ouch, I got a glass splinter in my fucking finger now."

She finally looked up at me, and I was stunned, I saw the most beautiful light blue eyes I'd ever seen. They were the color of the polar ice caps. You know the glaciers you see on the nature channel shows. I looked into them, and they took my breath away. I didn't want to look away or speak. Without hesitation, I took her hand and inspected her finger, feeling a slight tremble, but she didn't pull away. I was just thrilled to have a reason to touch her.

"You can't keep using it; you need to get it replaced. That glass will splinter as you've already found out, and it will only get worse. Do you have your information all backed up?" I couldn't let go of her warm hand, stroking it softly, trying to give her comfort but seeking my own. I kept wanting to ask her questions, afraid she might leave.

She gave me a weak smile, still not pulling her hand away. "Fortunately, I do have it backed up. The Apple store is just up the street. I'll take it back to them." She held up her other hand with crossed fingers and smiled at me. This time she had a twinkle in her ice-blue eyes. "Fingers crossed it won't be too difficult to replace."

She finally looked down at our hands, and I reluctantly let go just as Stacy came back with her espresso.

"I think you'll live if you don't try to use your phone."

She took her coffee, then turned back to me and smiled, looking at me like a real person, not an invisible. "Thanks for being so nice, and the coffee."

I returned her smile. "No problem, see you around." I was never so sorry to utter that sentence. I went back to my spot and drank my cold black coffee. She waved at me as she left, drinking her espresso, almost running into an incoming customer. Maybe she was a klutz, the sexiest klutz I'd ever seen. I was disappointed as she headed up the street, and then I saw her walking animatedly back the other direction. I laughed as I watched her, as she walked away muttering to herself. The thought kept a smile on my face for longer than I realized. Thinking about this woman, she was so damn cute with her swearing and klutzy behavior.

I hadn't wanted to make any connections with women after what happened with Lana. I had to wait until after my inheritance to find that particular person; there was too much at stake.

Considering the size of the city, I figured I'd never see her again, but I couldn't let that happen. I'd come back tomorrow and hope to see her. All I had to do now was to go back to the shelter to help and get some food and a bed for tonight. I did my best to put that woman out of my mind, but she gave me hope that my life could change for the better.