Bette felt Kerrie wanted to say more, but nothing else followed, and with some of the tension lifted, she let it be.
Late into the afternoon, only about 30 minutes from clocking out, Luke showed up in the basement, calling out to them. Whatever it was, Bette hoped it didn't hold them over. She wanted nothing more than to take a shower and change into clothing that wasn't full of sweat. Hours seemed so much longer when uncomfortably warm. She had ditched her blazer before they even came into the basement, and by the end of Leadership, her hair had gone up in a ponytail. If she stayed any longer, she would be rolling her slacks up, and she really didn't want it to come to that. She was completely over it.
"In here," Kerrie called out. She, too, looked at the end of her patience. Once the men had left for the day, she had shed her button-down dress shirt and was now in a plain undershirt that was tucked into her dress slacks, the tight undershirt giving Bette a better look at Kerrie's thick belly that hung over the waistband of her pants. She was surprised to find herself so attracted to Kerrie. For so long she only had eyes for Shelly, and Shelly had always been fit. Rarely did Bette notice other women. Before Shelly, she had fought her attraction to women. The South didn't exactly embrace a same-sex lifestyle, especially over twenty years ago, and her family was fully against it. Her mother stopped speaking to her for five years before she got wind of Zoe's birth, and then she began to melt. That felt like forever ago.
Now, Bette was finally feeling human again, and feelings she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time were coming back. Like appreciating Kerrie's thick arms in her white undershirt and not even the least bit turned off by the small wet spot on her lower back from pooled sweat. It was thrilling, really, the little moments of butterflies or the twist of her gut. It didn't hurt to look. Nor did it hurt to briefly imagine what it felt like to have Kerrie press her against a wall.
Luke walked into the cramped space, followed by a young, skinny white man with several facial tattoos, his mouth set in a firm line and his eyes darting around. Clad in an orange jumpsuit and only a pair of white socks, he looked like he had just stepped out of jail. It took a moment for Bette to realize he had.
"For fuck's sake, you've got to be kidding me," fumed Kerrie, standing up abruptly, causing both Bette and the man to jump.
Luke just nodded gravely as if he already knew what was going on. "Yep."
Sighing, Kerrie shook her head and started out of the room. "Come on, son, let's get you looking like a person and not just a number."
Frowning, Bette decided to follow, wondering what was going on. Luke grinned at her as she raised an eyebrow at him.
The back part of the basement had two doors that Bette hadn't noticed before. It hadn't occurred to her that the basement was the same size as the upper floor and would be more than just the group space and storage room.
Kerrie opened one of the doors and then turned back to them. She directed her attention to the young man. "I'm really sorry they didn't give you something to change into before you left jail. It's not right to make someone walk around like that. We've got stuff in here. You're more than welcome to get what you need. That tote in the back has new packs of underwear and socks a church donated last month. I'm guessing you need a toiletry kit?"
"Yes, ma'am," he answered, his southern drawl thick as a bloated tick.
"Alright, Luke, you help him, and I'll run upstairs to get a kit and a trash bag to put the stuff in. What's your name?"
"David."
"Well, David, I'm Ms. Kerrie. This is Ms. Bette. Welcome to The Church."
Curiosity drew Bette into the new room. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened. "What is this?"
Stooped over a tote, Luke flashed her a smile. "This is the closet. We get donations of clothes and stuff. We have a lot of guys in need, so Kerrie started this. Guys can pick a few outfits, shoes, underwear, belts, you know, stuff like that."
The room was overflowing like a stuffed laundry basket. A handmade shelf ran the length of three walls, with a bar to hang clothing on underneath. Most of everything was either tossed in totes or stuffed on the shelves above. Half of the items hanging on the bar were halfway on mismatched hangers. Mounds of men's clothing and shoes were haphazardly tossed into the once-small office. The messiness began picking at Bette's nerves. It needed organizing badly.
"I mean, this is great, but why is it so messy?" asked Bette.
Standing up, clothing around his ankles, Luke shrugged. "There never seems to be enough time. Plus, I don't know if you've noticed, but this place doesn't exactly have a woman's touch."
"Are you saying I'm not a lady?" teased Kerrie from behind Bette. She looked over her shoulder to find the counselor filling the doorway.
"No offense, Ms. K, but you're not exactly what comes to mind when I think of a lady."
"Shit, same," grinned Kerrie. She held out a black trash bag with a small bulge in the bottom. "The toiletry bag is in here, and there is a baggy of powdered washing detergent. If you need more, just pop in and ask. We have plenty. Luke can show you where the washers are."
The intimidating young man that had first set Bette on alert softened before her eyes. She quickly learned that first impressions at Turtle Grove didn't always stay true. It was as if everyone had a mask they hid behind. He nodded curtly, trying to repress a small, gap-toothed smile. He appeared to be genuinely thankful. "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that."
***
Kerrie locked The Church's door behind them. The day was finally over, but Bette didn't go to her car immediately. Instead, she waited for Kerrie to finish, then looked up at her in admiration. Kerrie raised her eyebrow in question.
"You humanize them," Bette said simply.
"Huh?"
"The clients. You make them people again. You care about them on a level a lot of people would write them off on. A guy came in dehumanized in jail garb, and you were upset for him. You clothed him, gave him the basics that make us feel human, and at no point did you make him feel shameful for it."
Kerrie's cheeks reddened as she looked off in the distance at Sparrow. "I was in his place once. I remember how ashamed I was that I didn't even have deodorant. That I smelled and didn't care until I sobered up enough to care. These men are people just like the rest of us. They just need a little compassion. Whether they stay clean or go back to using, at least while they're here, they can catch a break, breathe, and maybe get a little dignity back."
