“Sorry. I just… I hate to think of you like that.” I bite my lower lip, and, unable to resist, I glance around the shelter at the others gathered here. How many of them have similar stories? How many just needed a little help to get on their feet again, and instead wound up here? “And my father didn’t help you back then? I thought you two were close.”
“He didn’t know,” Russ says, a little more harshly than he maybe intended.
My eyebrows rise.
“It was my own fault. I didn’t want to tell him.”
“Why not?” I ask softly.
“I was too proud to admit it. I always looked up to your father. And he has such strong opinions about who should get what kind of help. He’d made comments in the past, ones I never really thought too much about. Comments about how the homeless just needed to work harder and they could get back on their own two feet without help.”
My cheeks flare red. “That does sound like him,” I mumble. “I’m so sorry.”
Russ shakes his head. “Don’t be. There were other people who helped me out—though nobody I knew from my regular life. I was too proud to admit to anyone what was going on. Not the teachers at school, not my friends, not even my best friend, your dad… But shelters like these, where I was able to get a meal, get my feet back under myself? They were a godsend. At the time, I swore that once I was back in a position to do so, I’d help out. Give back the same way people paid things forward to me.” He gestures behind himself at the kitchen. “So, now I volunteer here every spare chance I get.”
My heart feels so full it could burst. “Russ…” I rest a hand on his on the table. He turns his palm around to lace his fingers through mine.
“Don’t be too impressed.” He laughs. “I also enjoy it here. It’s fun.”
“I agree.” I smile. “It feels good to help others. It makes you feel like your life has meaning, like you’re doing something important, right?”
“Exactly.” His eyes dance with amusement when they meet mine.
The words just slip out of me. I can’t help it anymore. “That’s what I want to do. But not here at home. I want to join Doctors Without Borders. Go to the places where medical help is needed the most, and just… do what I spent all those years in school learning how to do. Save lives.”
He squeezes my hand gently in his. “So why haven’t you applied yet?” He tilts his head and eyes me curiously.
Like it’s that easy. Like achieving my dreams is that simple. “I… can’t. Dad won’t let me.”
But Russ is already shaking his head. “That’s an excuse, Maggie.”
“No, it isn’t,” I protest. “Dad paid for my nursing school. He says I need to earn back enough money to pay him back for it, by working at his hospital, where he wants me. Otherwise he’ll blacklist me in the rest of the industry.”
“You think he could really do that?” Russ lifts an eyebrow. “He has pull around the medical establishment, sure, but enough to get you blackballed from every single establishment or company you might possibly try to work for, anywhere in the world?” Russ shakes his head. “Don’t give your father that much credit, Maggie.”
“What about the school bills, though?”
“If he already paid them, the bill collectors can’t come after you for it. You could offer to pay him back, set up an agreement. If he hasn’t already paid them off, then you could just assume control of the payments yourself. It would be hard to do, on a starting salary, I know, but—”
“Worth it,” I interrupt. “Yeah. I guess I could…”
He squeezes my hand again, and tugs on my arm gently until I finally look up at him. “So?” he asks, his voice softer now.
“So what?” My eyes track his. Drop to his lips. To his mouth, just inches away from mine. It’s hard to stay focused on practical things like career discussions when Russ is right in front of me. Staring at me like this. In a way that makes me suddenly wish we were alone, somewhere private. Not seated at a table with half a dozen witnesses, probably wondering who this young thing Russ brought in is.
My cheeks flush at the thought, and I drive it away. Not the time to worry about that.
“So, what’s the real excuse?” Russ’s grin looks almost sly now. “Besides your father. What’s the real reason you haven’t pursued your dreams?”
I open my mouth. Close it again. Then I press my lips together tightly, thinking. He’s right. There are ways around my father’s control. Big, dangerous steps that I could take. But they scare me. Why do they scare me?