Christine shuffled through the papers of her business plan. Designing the business had been a hobby she'd participated in for years. It had seemed like a mere fantasy, but now for the first time, it could become real. She wasn't sure whether she should feel optimistic or concerned. Confident that she had just been offered freedom. Scared that it might cost her life.
"This might be the best I've ever had," the man across the room grunted through a mouthful of country-fried chicken. "And I lived in Texas, ya know." He continued to stab at the half-eaten meat with his plastic knife.
"Thank you, Jim. I've got plenty for seconds." Christine answered back. Jim smiled wide, showing several gaps of missing teeth. She smiled back.
She shoved the papers into the Manila envelope that had grown thicker as new ideas had come to her. The small raggedy room had once been a liquor shop owned by her father. The only thing she'd gotten in his passing. The storefront was entirely made of glass with metal bars stretching up the interior. She hated the family business, so the day she signed the title, she closed the shop for good.
As Christine looked across what she had since made of the place, she was overwhelmed with content. These were the people she loved most in the world. Honest people were hard to find in her life. There's no reason to lie when you've got nothing left to lie about.
She stretched a tin foil wrap over the lid of the feast that she had cooked for them. It was a little more than usual, but today was a special occasion. Today was the first she'd dreamed this place would be what she'd imagined.
She noticed a few concerned looks as she folded the tin foil over the corners, "There's still more, I'm just trying to keep it warm."
Christine grabbed a pitcher of lemonade and walked around the counter. "Lily, it's been a while since I've seen you."
Lily handed Christine a cup without looking up. She was small and fragile. Her gray and black speckled hair reached well below her waist. Her fingernails were chipped, which revealed bare bruised fingertips.
"They put me in a shelter." She cackled, "It smelled like Sylvester, and I left. He smells like—."
"I don't—you-yo- don—I don' sm-smell!" Sylvester stuttered in the corner. His arms were crossed with an old dirty fedora pulled low over his eyes. He grabbed a handful of soggy string beans and threw them in the direction of Lily.
"Sylvester, Lily! I'll ask you to leave." Christine grabbed Sylvester's shoulder.
"Kick'em out." Earl hooted. "Them lovers ya know, I saw 'em. Over on fifth. Acting like rabbits." That got a woot from the room.
When Lily blushed, and Sylvester grinned, Christine had to turn to hide a smile of her own. She composed herself and turned back. "Let's behave." She plucked a cigarette from Earl's fingers. "Not inside."
"You owe me a cigarette," he mumbled.
"It wasn't lit."
"You embarrassed me, so you owe me." He smiled.
Christine grabbed a plate of her own and sat at the table with her guests. She smiled with them. Mourned with them. Her heart ached with them. None of them deserved the life they were given. In this tiny two table room, she felt at home. More than anything, she thought she belonged.
When the food was gone, as it always was, she began to clean the messy room. The hardest part was letting them walk out the door. In the wintertime, she'd lay out sleeping bags for those that wanted to stay even though it was rare anyone would. It wasn't a shelter, it wasn't a soup kitchen; she thought of it as a place for community. The one thing that can genuinely help someone.
Lily was the last to leave. She turned to Christine at the door. "Sylvester gave me this," Lily smiled. She held out a black corded necklace that had a green jewel strapped to the end. "I think Earl's jealous." She winked at Christine.
"I hope to see you soon, Lily. Stay well."
She closed the door behind Lily and watched through the glass as she wandered down the street. Christine wanted so badly to help them. Jim had once told her, "If I had money, I wouldn't know what to do. This is all I know." To an extent, she understood, but she really wanted to believe she could still make a difference.
Christine grabbed the envelope from the counter and carried it up the small spiraling metal stairs to her little studio apartment. In seven hours, she'd be driving back to the station where she'd be blindfolded and taken to who knows where. This time, if everything went well, would be her last time at the office. She decided on optimism.
It's almost over.
She didn't like what was about to happen, but if it meant freedom, she'd do anything.