I hadn’t thought of Micki in a while. Guilt surged through me, that I had the privilege to forget about her, when she was a homeless teenager.
“What about her?” I perked up.
“What about working with kids like her?”
Working with foster kids, the homeless, the runaways, would be devastating work. But if I was able to give any young person a semblance of guidance, like I had needed throughout my youth? It would be worth it.
But most counseling positions required a degree. I had to consider the toil it would take to get to that point.
“Do you want to visit her?” he asked. I looked up. I guessed I hadn’t said anything in a while. I nodded. Of course, I did. “We’ll go tomorrow morning. See if she’s still there.”
***
We stopped at a grocery store on the way, and I picked out a few snacks. Sour candies for me, and a bunch of chocolate bars and a soda for Micki. Though my time in shelters had been brief, I remembered thinking that all I had wanted was candy and soda. Most people like chocolate, more than they liked sour candies, though.
Before we walked up to the front entrance, the memory of doing that exact same thing when we had first moved back to Vegas came flashing back to my mind. The workers who clearly knew Grant, who had been happy to see him. I understood the affectionate attitude towards Grant now, and while I didn’t know his exact history with the Riverside Family Shelter, after meeting his mother and learning about his step-father, I could guess.
I stopped him right before we made it to the door. I wanted to make sure.
“How do you know them?” I asked.
“Stayed here with my mom. On and off.”
“Not in a shelter in Vegas?”
“It was safer here sometimes,” he said. Then we both turned towards the door. Grant might not have understood what it was like to have a stalker, but he did understand what it was like to feel unsafe.
“Can I help—” a round woman said, but as soon as her eyes fell on Grant, she grinned. “Twice in one year? I don’t believe it.” She waved her arms, making him come closer. “Get in here, sweetie-pie.”
They embraced. A few others came and grilled Grant with questions about his current situation and his mother, and he answered with actual complete sentences, as if he knew he couldn’t get around it otherwise. After a few minutes of interrogation, Grant turned to me.
“This is Hazel,” he said. “We’ve been living together.”
Not a girlfriend. Not his lover. But living together. Like roommates. I didn’t know what we were, but his introduction didn’t bother me. As long as we were together, figuring out whatever this was, the labels didn’t matter.
“Living together?” Lorena, the round woman, said. “You mean like boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Grant looked at me, and I shrugged. “Something like that,” I said.
“Mmm. Okay.” She shifted her weight to her other hip. “What can we do for you?”
Again, Grant let me do the talking. “There was a girl here. Named Micki. Is she still around?”
“Micki? Yeah. Let me see if she’s available.”
Lorena disappeared, and I looked up at Grant. There was a chance that Micki wouldn’t want to see us, and I had to be prepared for that situation. Grant reached down and squeezed my fingers. He didn’t let go.
I guess we looked like boyfriend and girlfriend. I wasn’t mad about it. I squeezed his hand back.
The little mop of a teenager came gangling out towards us. “Hazel!” she said. She put her arms around me, hugging me close. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
The sweetness shocked me. I hadn’t thought I had made that much of an impression on her. “How are you?” I asked.
“Fine,” she said. “Better.”
She smelled clean, like she was fresh out of the shower. I handed her the bag of goodies. “Thought you might want a break from cereal and apple juice,” I said.
“It’s not that bad. Miss Jenson is a great cook,” she said, taking the bag. “But thanks. I’ve been craving soda.”
