“Yes. It is a very difficult language. I worked hard to learn it.”
“Where are you from?”
“France,” said Marisol. It was just easier saying that than explaining where Dalyasia was.
“Oh, then you can read it and tell me what to write.”
“I could,” said Marisol. “But that won’t help you learn French. Read what is there out loud and then tell me what you think it means.”
Marisol worked with the girl, whose name she found out was Tolly. She found the girl did understand quite a bit of French. Tolly had problems in understanding why certain words were masculine and others feminine. As the seventeen verb forms used to give Marisol headaches when she studied them academically, she related to the girl’s problems.
“Just ignore that the word is masculine or feminine. Just learn the word. It’s a holdover from Latin, the root language of French, where each word had a masculine and feminine form. It’s just in French for most words one or the other gender was dropped.”
Marisol worked with Tolly and helped her to understand the passage. Soon Tolly was working on the translation.
Sister Mary Agnes came back into the room.
“Attention, everyone. For those with yellow tickets, you can go to the residence now. Those with red tickets, I’ll pull the drawing for the remaining beds.”
Sister Mary Agnes pulled tickets from a fishbowl that Peggy held up. Marisol took out her red ticket and listened as the nun called the numbers. It was a relief when her number was called.
“Nuts,” said Tolly, who tore up her ticket.
Marisol felt bad for the teen. It must be impossible to go to school while living on the street. For the first time in her life, she felt bad that she grew up in luxury when there were many people with so little.
“Take mine.”
“Nah. I have a flop I can hang out at. It’s just that I can’t take a shower there.”
“What’s a flop?”
“Oh, you know. An abandoned building that squatters take over. My friends Jake and Jilly live there with a bunch of other people. It’s where I stay when I have no other place to go.”
Marisol didn’t like the idea of this young girl sleeping in the same building with squatters, not matter how good of friends they were.
“No, please. I insist.”
“Really?”
“Yes, please. You’ve worked so hard tonight and need a good sleep before you go to school tomorrow.”
“Gee, thanks. Well, got to go then and get a good bed. Good night and good luck.”
Marisol watched as Tolly slung her backpack on her shoulder and nearly bounced toward the door that Sister Mary Agnes held open. She didn’t notice Ryan drop into the seat opposite hers. When she turned and saw him she started while he smiled broadly at her.
“That was really nice of you, giving your bed to Tolly.”
“No. It really wasn’t. She’s had so little, and it’s the least I could do. Why is she homeless?”
“We don’t have the full story, but the first time she came here she had cigarette burns on her arms. Peggy tried to get her to go into foster care, but Tolly said she’d rather live in the streets than live with a foster family. We got the impression she’d been in the system, and it didn’t work out well.”
“But she’s too young to be on her own.”
“Maybe not. She’s doing well at school, getting Bs, I understand. As long as she keeps showing up here, I don’t worry too much about her.”
“And when she doesn’t show up?”
He shrugged. “Then I worry.”
“This place is very lucky to have you to work for them.”
Ryan shook his head. “I don’t work here. I volunteer. They need all the help they can get. A place like this faces more challenges than you know.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
“No, it’s not. I do what I can to give back. When my mom, and my sister were homeless after my father died, this place became a home to us while my mom worked out different issues with Social Security. It took a while. Those people move slower than a glacier. Part of the problem was that my father kept important paperwork in a bank my mom didn’t have access to. Finally, when we did get Social Security, we were able to move into a rent controlled apartment building that Saint Chris’s owned. In that, we were very lucky. So you can see I have a soft spot in my heart for this place.”
“And deservedly so.”
“So what about your story? Why are you here?”
“It’s not that important.”
“Sure it’s. Every story is important.”
“No. Not really.”
“Come on. You can tell me. Tell you what. I’ll save you some ice cream for the next time I come.”
“Are you sure bribery is the way to a girl’s heart?”
“Must be. Nothing else has worked.”
“Now you’re making fun of me. A man like you must have many women after him.”
“No. I work too much. First my day job, and then here. I’m practically a monk.”
“A monk, eh? You should take holy orders.”
“Nah. My mom would have a fit. When Peggy took her orders, my mom made me swear I wouldn’t do the same thing, but if you want, I can act like your confessor. Tell me your deep, dark secrets.”
“I have none, I swear.”
“You’re in trouble now. You just swore to a lie.”
“Well, if you must know my father arranged a marriage for me to a man I can’t stand.”
“So you ran away.”
“More like took control of my life, but as you can see that hasn’t gotten me very far.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Saint Chris’s isn’t that easy to find. I think God may have led you here.”
“You believe in God?”
“I couldn’t have lived my life if I didn’t.”
“So many men wouldn’t say that.”
He shrugged.
“And who is Peggy? She shares your last name.”
“She’s my baby sister.”
“Ha!” said Peggy coming up behind him and gently cuffing him in the ear. “I’m no baby.”
“Ow!” Ryan wailed playfully.
“Come on. You know it’s time to lock up.”
“Okay, okay,” said Ryan. “Just don’t beat me anymore.”
Peggy rolled her eyes. “You’re so abused.”
“You’ll have to confess to Father Wilson,” said Ryan snarkily.
“Yes, and say ten Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers for indulging your fantasies of my abuse.” Peggy turned her attention to Marisol. “I’m sorry, Ms. Morrison. You’ll have to leave, but do come in the morning, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”
Marisol looked around the room and saw they were the only people left.
“Thank you,” said Marisol. “You’ve been very kind.”
“I’ll walk you out,” said Ryan.
As they walked to the door, Ryan picked up a jacket at the counter and slung it on his shoulder. He locked the door from the inside and pulled it shut leaving both him and Marisol outside the building.
He hesitated outside the door. “Marisol, do you have a place to stay?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
“No. I don’t think so. You obviously don’t belong on the streets.”
“Oh, I’m obvious, am I?”
“The Big Apple isn’t known for its gentleness, Marisol, but I have an idea.”
“What idea?” she said with suspicion.
“I lost my housekeeper a few days ago. I liked the way you helped Tolly. You did it without thought of return. To me, that shows you’re an honest person. So I’d like to offer you the housekeeper position, on a trial basis, you understand.”
“I couldn’t. You don’t know me—”
“And you don’t know me. I understand. I promise on my father’s grave you’ll come to no harm in my home.”