Page 9 of The Road Home
CHAPTER FIVE
A loud bang caused Orson to sit up fast. It took him a moment to remember where he was and realize what the loud bang had been. He sighed as he watched the sliding metal door to the storage unit he'd been sleeping inside of roll open. Bright light filled the small space, causing several around him to groan.
He'd been staying at the storage unit now for almost a week and seldom left the security of the place. There were at least twenty others who stayed with him most nights. It meant cramped space in the one small storage unit they shared, but at least he was safe and not out in the open.
It took a while to get used to the cast, and the first few nights he'd hardly slept, but slowly, he was getting used to the hard cast on his arm and was learning how to work and sleep with it. He wanted the damn thing off, but he'd let his bones heal on their own too many times. He wanted this time to be right. He'd risked his body too often. It was time he started concentrating on doing things right and taking care of himself.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the groggy sleep. He needed to motivate and actually venture out today. He stayed hidden at the storage unit for too long. It was time to go out, face the world, and stop hiding. He needed to find out about programs, find out what resources there were available. The whole point in leaving Arizona was so that he could make a life for himself and try and get off the streets. Even with the changes going on with the programs here, he needed to see if he could still get on waiting lists or find a job service who would hire him and help him at least get some money saved to get on his feet.
With his body aching, he slowly stood. Most of the cuts had healed other than the one on his chin. It was still tender, sore if he pressed on it. It didn't feel infected, but he didn't like that it still hurt as much as it did. Even though he'd been told to go back to the clinic and let them check on him, he hadn't. It had been hard enough to go in the first time. He didn't want to do it again. Let alone the chances that he'd see another doctor instead of the one he had before were high, and once they read his file, he'd have to deal with another conversation about contacting the police and reporting things. It was all better left alone.
One thing he had thought about way too much concerning the clinic was the doctor. More than once he'd dreamed of the deep green eyes and soft smile. The man was attractive. It was seldom that Orson let men get to him, but there was something about the doctor that had stuck in his mind and wouldn't leave.
Orson didn't let himself form an attraction to others, but the doctor had managed to get to him. It wasn't just how handsome he was, but the concerned look in his eyes, the gentle voice, the way he seemed to genuinely care about his well-being. That was probably most of what the attraction was. Having someone give a shit about him was rare. Most people hardly noticed him, but the doctor had taken the time to talk to him, ask questions, and for a few minutes, even if he was just doing his job, someone had cared about him.
As he gathered his backpack and stepped out of the cramped storage unit, he tried to remember the last time he had anyone treat him that way. Sadly, it was probably the day he'd left his parents. It was the kiss that had outted him, the one kiss that changed his life. He rolled his shoulders as he stared up at the sky. There was no use remembering. This was his life now, and he wouldn't be kissing anyone or even feeling as if he was cared about for a long time. He only had himself to depend on now, and that meant that he could either sit around and accept that this was going to be his way of life or he could try to change it. He'd sat around for three years already, now it was time for changes. He only hoped they were reachable. Just getting a job could change everything.
Orson looked around, trying to see if Harry was there, but he didn't see him. He'd talked to a few of the others who stayed there, but it was Harry who had made him feel most welcome. They'd sat up the first two nights he'd been here and talked about little things. They never really got personal, and he wondered what put Harry on the streets. He had a good head on his shoulders and seemed motivated and ambitious. Just went to show, anyone could end up on the streets, not just weak, timid guys like he was.
Leaving the area, glad to have the security that he could come back at night, he slid through the cut fence and started down the road toward where the current shelter was. If he was going to find resources, that was the place to start. He wasn't even sure what day it was, but by the traffic in the area and the look of people around in business suits and dresses, he assumed it was a weekday.
He steered through the people on the sidewalk, trying hard not to notice the way they stepped around him, keeping as much distance between them as they could. Very few made eye contact. It was almost as if they thought that if they acknowledged him, they might catch what he had and end up homeless too. Orson laughed to himself. If they only knew how close to being homeless they were. He'd heard the stories from others on the streets. It only took one illness, one lawsuit, one bad day on the job where you were fired. It didn't take a lot for someone to find themselves on the streets.
He was used to the avoidance, in fact, he welcomed it. It was easier to have people avoid him than to go through the conversations all the time about how he ended up where he was on the streets and why he didn't just get a job and get a place to live. He wished it was that easy. In Arizona, he'd worked a few temporary jobs, but locations were an issue and showering was a bigger problem. He only had a few changes of clothes, and they were never clean. He did okay with some labor jobs, but most moved around, and when he couldn't find a way to the next job site, he was let go.
Unsure if the job market was better in Utah, he didn't know what to expect, but he hoped he could find something where he didn't have to be clean every day. Most of all he hoped it wasn't something too physical. With his small frame, he just didn't have the muscles to do heavy labor and lifting all day. He would if that was all there was, but he hoped for something stocking shelves or working somewhere that didn't demand using his body as much as some jobs did.
As he passed the clinic, he glanced over, wondering if the sexy doctor was inside. It didn't matter. It wasn't like he would be anything more than a fantasy to help get him through the cold, lonely nights.
Forcing his thoughts off Dr. Sexy, he made his way into the area next to the shelter where the offices were. Harry had mentioned that he needed to talk to someone named Celeste in order to get signed up for programs or find a job. He was lucky enough to have his driver's license and social security card still. Somehow through all the muggings and rapes, he'd always been able to save the small wallet that held them. He kept it stashed inside his sock, against his leg, hoping no one would look there or try and steal a worn pair of dirty socks. So far it had worked. He'd lost plenty of other things, but the wallet was most important. He didn't want to think about how hard it would be to replace his ID without any other form of identification to prove who he was.
He kept his head down as he made his way along the long hallway, glancing up only to take in the names on the doorways. When he came to the one that read Celeste, he paused, gently knocking on the open door.
"Hi, come on in. How can I help you?" The woman smiled at him as she waved him inside.
"Hi, thanks. I'm new to the area and was told you might help me find a job or some kind of housing?" He wasn't sure what to tell her, but was glad that she at least seemed kind and wasn't put off by him showing up suddenly.
"Sure, come in and have a seat. I'm Celeste." She offered her hand.
"I'm Orson." He shook her hand awkwardly with his left hand.
"Nice to meet you." She pulled a file folder out of her desk and opened it in front of her.
"First off, how old are you? I only handle those over eighteen."
It wasn't the first time someone thought he was younger. "I'm twenty." He sat down in the chair across from her desk.
"Good, and how about documents? Will we need to get you an ID or anything?"
"I have my driver's license from when I was seventeen, so I'm good for quite a few years still. I also have my social security card."
"That's great news. It's not often I have people come in with documentation already in hand. This will help speed things up. Now as for housing and that sort of thing, there isn't much available, and the wait for what is out there is long, but it's not hopeless. There is a new program starting the first of the month thanks to a generous donor. It's an apartment complex where we will have resources, classes, and job opportunities for those we think are willing to make an honest go of getting off the streets. The rules will be strict, there will be drug testing, and we will do a random walk-thru of each apartment to inspect for issues or signs of alcohol or drugs. As I said, the program doesn't start until the first of next month, but we are looking for eligible people now so when it does open, they are ready to move in. Would this be something of interest to you?"
Orson nodded. "Very much so. Is there a cost?"
"Yes, a small rental fee, but we promise you a job that will more than cover that cost and leave you with enough money to survive on and hopefully save so you can move out on your own within a year. The goal is to get you on your feet so that someone else can move in as soon as possible." She handed him a paper. "All the information is there."
He glanced at the paper, taking a minute to read over it before glancing back up. "This sounds amazing." This was so much more than he could have hoped for. "What's the catch?"
