Page 27 of New Year

“Would you go back if you could?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I have a lot of credits, but nothing that would really get me a degree yet. I did like being a server, because I got to meet a lot of people and be social, but it’s really hard work. I don’t know if I wanna still be doing that in ten years.”

“Understandable. Front of house service is a difficult but honorable profession. I’ve worked with hundreds of servers in my career. Some of them are excellent, most are good, and others are absolute disasters.”

“Well, I’m a good server, it’s just my personal life that’s a disaster.”

“And that’s why Zack and I are trying to help you. Today went very well, so what if we keep working together for a few more days? I don’t need help all day. Some days I might not need help at all. But we’ll see how it goes and if you find some value in the experience. Some folks get bored and frustrated when there isn’t always something to do.”

“I thought you hadn’t had a helper yet.”

“I didn’t. But when I was about your age, my grandfather was passing slowly at home, and he required round-the-clock care. Since my mother and her siblings all had careers and families of their own, they used an agency. I did my best to visit in between my own schooling, and one young lady who didn’t last very long was…well, abysmal at the job. She was newly married, and I believe she quit the profession entirely once she got pregnant.”

“Well, there’s no chance of me having to quit from pregnancy.”

Chase hooted laughter, a much different sound than Zack’s laughter. Higher pitched, mirthful and more like a pat on the head than a warm hug. Zack’s laugh was a warm hug. “Good to know, but you understand my point? About boredom?”

“I get it. I do like the faster pace of working in a restaurant, but even there we have slow times. And I’m not afraid of downtime. I like the idea of us working together for a few more days. To see if I’m good enough.”

“Then let’s do that.”

“Okay.”

Chase smiled at him for a long moment, as if sealing their deal in silence, and then picked up the remote. Began scrolling until he found a program. Nat had never heard ofMysteries of the Abandoned, but it didn’t matter. It looked interesting, so he settled in to watch the show. The comfort and cool air in the apartment relaxed Nat more than he’d been in ages, and he didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he was being shaken awake.

The house was quiet and mostly dark, and Zack was smiling down at him from the shadows. “Hey,” he said softly. “I hate to wake you, but I think my sofa is a little more comfortable than this one.”

Nat stretched, and the sharp ache in his neck clued him in to how he’d fallen asleep against the arm of Chase’s couch. Spreading out on Zack’s sofa bed, lumps and all, was definitely a better option. “S’okay. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Shouldn’t have.”

“If Chase had needed you, he’d have woken you. Come on.”

“You’re sure he’s okay?”

“He texted me before he went to bed.”

Zack reached out. Nat took his hand and let Zack pull him off the couch. Nat’s left foot was asleep, and he stumbled into Zack’s side. He also didn’t resist when Zack looped his arm around Nat’s back. They left Chase’s house and crossed the small porch to Zack’s. Nat’s bed was in the same rumpled state as he’d left it that morning, which was kind of embarrassing, but made it easy to collapse into after using Zack’s bathroom.

“Sweet dreams, Nat.” Zack’s voice was somewhere in the room. The lights flicked out, and Nat settled in the darkness, comfortable and exhausted.

Nat mumbled a similar sentiment, pictured Zack’s smiling face, and drifted. Safe and content and, for the first time in ages, hopeful for tomorrow.

* * *

Nat hadn’t woken up that fateful Sunday morning, sweating and damp behind a stack of old shipping pallets, expecting for his life to change. Most mornings, he woke up expecting his life to abruptly end in some violent way. For the last five mornings, he wok up in a semi-comfortable sofa bed, cool and rested, with access to a shower and food. And most importantly, he woke up safe and hopeful.

Being someone’s personal assistant (he kind of hated the terms carer, nurse, or aide) had been nowhere on his list of possible jobs once he’d chosen homelessness and hiding, but he loved it. Chase didn’t need the kind of medical care that required a degree or certificate. He just needed someone to listen, to converse with, and to help Chase with daily tasks that were unmanageable on his own.

They’d come up with a fair salary, and Nat finally had a cell phone. And an expanded wardrobe. He’d even gone out to see Sasha at her job and get her phone number. She’d given him Bud Maher’s number, too, in case he changed his mind about working for them again. Four contacts weren’t many, but it was a start. He was re-attached to the wider world. He even made new social media accounts with fake info, so he could participate without being discovered.

Friday evening, he was in the odd position of being released from work by Chase at four o’clock, and Zack had given Nat a key to his place this morning, so Nat could come and go as he pleased while Zack was at work.

Nat had no idea what the fuck to do with himself. No boyfriend to appease. No curfew. No burning need to flaunt his ass and earn some quick cash.

Chase’s house was only a block from a bus stop, so Nat got on and just…rode around. He tried to take in Reynolds the way Zack might have when he first arrived, a newcomer discovering things, adjusting to the layout and major landmarks. One of the landmarks Nat loved was Neighborhood Shindig.

Built on a whole city block, Neighborhood Shindig was an outdoor space with six stationary food trucks, over a dozen different small, local businesses, and a pavilion in the middle for people to gather, eat, and listen to live music on the weekends. It was popular, not just with the college students, but with pretty much everyone who lived in Reynolds. Nat had eaten from all the current food truck concepts, and everything he tried was fantastic. He’d browsed the businesses, too, but he wasn’t really into herbal tea or artisan bath bombs.

The fundraiser for Tim’s had been held there, but Nat had missed it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited Shindig, so when the bus stopped nearby, Nat got off. The property was surrounded by a tall, cement-block fence, with a large gate in front that opened at nine a.m. and closed at ten p.m.. It wasn’t quite dinnertime, but itwasFriday, so the place was full of shoppers and early diners.

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