The Fullfillment* Centre 3/4

We stood and looked at each other for a moment then they looked away, back down at their feet, the same defeated air, jaw clenching. Was I angry? I was I suppose. Angry at myself as much as anything, at my stupid, sentimental offer, at the irresponsibility of igniting hope in another person, offering help as though I had any real purchase on the world. I squatted down. What are you doing here? was my initial question through I knew it would come out badly, I’d sound cross. It was not their fault it was mine. How did you get down here? I asked instead 

Bus, they said, still staring at their bag.

You better come in then. Was that the way to phrase it? Let’s go in, I said instead, kept my voice low, calm. You are a bit of surprise.They glanced up sideways, a fleeting smile then picked up the bag, stood beside me as I opened the door. 

Have you eaten? 

Yeah.

Drink of something. 

Nah. I’m alright.

Tea? 

Alright.

We went into the small kitchen, I put the kettle on, Jay sat at the little rickety table that had been left by the previous tenant, finger tracing a circle on its surface. Legs folded under the chair. 

I don’t know your name yet, I said, keeping myself  busy with cups and teabags.

Jay. 

Well why don’t you tell me something about yourself? 

They shrugged. The kettle clicked off and the steam laid a patch of warm mist on the back of my arm as I turned and lent back against the work surface. Maybe digging into people’s lives,  people’s pasts was unnecessary, perhaps it was all best left undisclosed. 

The undisclosed. The word stayed with me for a moment, gave me pause. A powerful word, somehow. 

Sugar? 

Two sugars. 

I turned back, bags, milk, water, sugar from some sachets I’d pocketed from local coffee shops. I put it down on the table in front of them and they picked it up with both hands, blew on it, took a sip. 

I don’t know where you are going to sleep, I said. Or what you’re going to sleep in. 

I got a sleeping bag Jay said. I am alright anywhere. 

Probably best if you take the upstairs room. Maybe Chris should move into this room with me. Immediately his snoring and  trips to the toilet flashed into my mind but this would be a temporary arrangement. Jay wasn’t a minor exactly but still, I didn’t want to be sharing a house with someone vulnerable, so young, who I seemed somehow to have taken custodianship of.  I had no expertise in these matters, probably they needed access to professionals of some kind, support I couldn’t give them. A naive assumption on my part, that something like that would be available. We were still the mid-stage of the Austerity years at that point, though we had imagined, equally naively, that  their end  was imminent,  and any kind of help for exactly those vulnerable  young people had been cut to the bone.

How did you find the house?  I was about to ask, but I thought that might sound accusatory too. I never asked and I never found out. Did it matter? Has it mattered? Not at all. They were here now, somehow.

A pause as we sipped our drinks. You travel light, I said, gesturing to the sport’s bag.

Don’t send me back, they said, still staring into their tea. I just want a chance.