Paying for College - The Novel Page 7

  Chapter 4

  Brothers, I know I should find an honest job, but in this tiny town, the three fast food restaurants demand a detailed resume. I’m sure one or two of them need a French fry technician or a burger assembly engineer, but the restaurants have a bottomless supply of college students to eat through. However, guilt keeps chiseling at the back of my mind, so I used my free time to volunteer at the homeless shelter.

  I walked across town to the homeless shelter on a late Saturday morning. I will give back to the community. That way, some of my good will would cancel out some of my bad. Then everything in my universe would live in harmony, and perhaps my conscience will stop screaming at me. Of course, I didn’t want God to see me as a complete dirt bag as I bang on the closed gates of heaven. At least God could check a couple checkmarks for good behavior on his clipboard.

  I walked to the front counter at the homeless shelter, and the woman sitting there looked up with me with a warm smile and said, “Sorry, but you’re a little early for lunch.”

  “Uh.” Then I looked down at my clothes and looked at the woman again. “No. Oh no. I’m not homeless. I would like to volunteer my time and help those in need.”

  The woman blushed a little, “Oh, I’m sorry sir. You should meet the director.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just come around to the door, and I’ll let you in.”

  The woman jumped out of her chair, came around the counter, and opened the door with a key. We walked down a small hallway to the door at the end. She knocked softly on the door.

  A chirpy voice called, “Come in.”

  We walked in, and the woman said, “Luke, another volunteer.”

  “Thank you, Sister Margaret. Come on in, young man and have a seat.”

  The director stood up and came around his desk to shake my hand. Luke represented the consummate Christian. The crisp, bleached white dress shirt, the pressed trousers, polished black shoes and a crew-cut cut so sharply, a person could cut their finger if he were to rub his hand through Luke’s hair too quickly.

  Luke sat in the wooden chair next to me and asked, “I take it you’re from the college?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you’re here to do the Lord’s work?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s great. My name’s Luke.”

  “Just call me Jax.”

  Luke looked at his watch, “It’s almost time to feed the unfortunate their lunch. Let me show you the kitchen.”

  We rose from the chairs and walked to the dining room. A line of homeless people stood quietly in a line outside the dining rooms doors. I wanted to run away, but I knew that squeaky little voice at the back of my mind would not stop nagging me.

  As we walked by the homeless, Luke shook several hands and said, “Good afternoon, brother."

  As we burst through the dining room doors, then lo and behold, brothers, Phaedra stood behind the counter at the buffet line. I glanced at her and looked back at Luke. Damn, what a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious day. Phaedra slipped ladles into the food. She focused her bored eyes on the mysterious beef gravy, but then she looked up and noticed me. After spotting me, her eyes became alive while her smile deepened.

  Luke turned to me, “Brother, please help out Sister Phaedra.” Then he looked at Phaedra, “Good afternoon, sister. I’ve kept my promise and found someone to help you out. Jax has just joined our team. Phaedra meet Jax. Jax, meet Phaedra.”

  Luke shook my hand again and said, “Welcome aboard.”

  I walked behind the line. “Hey, Phaedra.

  “Hi,” Phaedra said.

  I shook Phaedra’s hand, and my mischievous mouth refused to stay silent. “Long time, no see. It seems like you’re following me around.”

  “Really? I think you have it backwards. I think you’re stalking me.”

  Luke said, “Oh, you two must know each other.”

  “Of course. Her father is Dean of the Business College, and we always seem to be bumping into each other.”

  Luke raised his eyebrow as he looked at me and then grinned, “If you need any help, just ask.” Then Luke left the dinner room, while the homeless men entered the room, grabbed the yellow trays, and queued for their daily squares.

  I looked at the mysterious gravy with chunks of meat bobbing up and down on top. “Do you have a permit to sell that concoction?”

  “Permit? We’re not selling anything. We’re giving it away for free.”

  “So that’s how you circumvent the strict government regulations to feed the unfortunate. Well, on second thought, that meat gravy looks better than the casseroles they always serve in the dorm.”

  “Ah, I see you haven’t figured out their secret yet.”

  I squinted my eyes and grinned, “Secret? I thought they’re serving something that resembled food.”

  “They are. Just think how much leftovers the students leave behind every day.”

  “Yeah. That has to be a lot. Probably a dumptruck filled with leftovers.”

  Phaedra smiled and added, “The University must do something with those leftovers.”

  “Ugh.” I frowned and rubbed my stomach. “No wonder why my stomach always hurts when I eat the food, but it does make sense. Just add some rice or noodles, a little salt, and presto, the mysterious casserole of unknown origins. All legal in the State of Michigan.”

  The homeless men stared at us. The first homeless man said, “C’mon, man. We’re hungry.”

  “You serve the rice and corn,” Phaedra said.

  “Okay. Let’s serve these hungry people before we have a revolt on our hands.”

  I grabbed two scoops. Using my left hand, I scooped the rice while I ladled the corn with my right.

  After thirty minutes, the last homeless person received his tray of food. I placed the ladles on a plate and wiped the sweat from my forehead with my left hand.

  Phaedra looked over, “Are you hungry.”

  “A little. Why?”

  “We get to eat too.”

  “Oh, fantastic. I’ve been wondering what this food tastes like. We‘ll see if the homeless eat better than the college students.”

  We grabbed plates, filled the plates with the fixings and sat together. I stabbed at a beef chunk, raised it to my mouth, plopped it in, and slowly chewed it.

  Phaedra looked at me, “How’s the food?”

  “Hhhh mmm,” as I swallowed the soft beef. “Chewy but tasty.” I speared another beef chunk and ate it.

  “Ha ha, toats.” Phaedra said as she moved the beef chunks to the side. She spooned a little rice and dipped it into the thick gravy. After taking a bite, she asked, “What do you do on the weekends?”

  “You mean after I take care of the homeless? I stay busy. I’m planning to become president of the debate club. Maybe join the boxing team. If I still have some spare time, then I’ll become a journalist for the university newspaper.”

  “Wow. You stay busy.”

  ”Idleness is the devil’s playground. Besides, I don’t think opportunity will knock on my door as I sit in a beach chair sipping a pina-colada. I must go out and seize that opportunity. So what do you do on the weekends?”

  “You know, a little of this. A little of that.”

  “Ah, it sounds you stay busy just like me. You know what. Since, I’m new to your town, perhaps you can show me around.”

  “There’s really not much to see, but I can check my schedule.”

  “Great. But before you show me your town, we should become friends on Facebook.” Brothers, before I knew what happen. She pulled a pen from her pocket and wrote her Facebook name on a brown napkin.

  I folded that napkin and slipped it into my shirt pocket.

  “So how long have –“

  The cook burst through the swinging doors of the kitchen and yelled, “Hey you two. After youse finish eating, could youse please put away the trays of food and clean the serving table?”

  I looked over to the k
itchen door and saw a roly-poly of a person with a grizzly beard wearing a White Sox baseball cap. “Oh yeah, don’t forget to sweep and mop the dining room.” Then he disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Who’s he?” I asked.

  “That’s Raymond, the cook.”

  “For a minute, the way he shouted as us, I thought he was our boss.”

  “He pretends to be. Some men can’t handle power.”

  We grabbed our trays, placed them on the tray cart, and started to clean up the dining room.

  A homeless man wearing a faded green army jacket walks in and grabs a yellow tray.

  Raymond popped out of the kitchen again and said, “Sorry sir, but youse late for lunch.”

  “But, but, I’ve –“ the homeless man rambled.

  “You know the rules. The kitchen closes at one o’clock sharp. No exceptions.”

  I interjected. “C’mon, man. The guy’s hungry.”

  Raymond stared coldly at me, “No exceptions.”

  “But I thought we’re supposed to help people who’re in need?”

  “We do, but only when the kitchen’s open. No exceptions. If we let one guy come late, then tomorrow two more will come late. By next week, they’ll all come late. Then we’ll never get out of here.”

  “I’m not trying to start a conflict, but you never asked this person if he has a good excuse for being late.”

  “Look, I know youse new here. Trust me. We impose these rules for a reason.”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  The homeless guy slammed his tray on top of the stack of trays and stormed out of the dining room. After Raymond returned to the kitchen, I winked at Phaedra.

  Phaedra raised her eyebrows in a question mark.

  “Cover for me,” I whispered.

  I ran out the door and caught up to the homeless guy before he walked out of the building onto the street.

  I tapped him on the shoulder.

  His shoulder convulsed at my touch, and he spun around with his eyes wide open. He clenched his hands into fists.

  “Hey man. I’m on your side. I’ll grab you some food. Just wait here by the front door. Okay?”

  He relaxed and nodded his head up and down slightly. Then he slowly sat in a metal chair by the door.

  I ran to the stainless steel table behind the buffet counter, where Phaedra had wrapped the tray of leftovers with plastic wrap and lined them up in a row. She looked up when I entered the door. “I thought you were being a typical man and ran away from kitchen work.”

  “No way.” Then I held my index finger to my mouth, “Shhhh.” I grabbed a takeaway box, lifted a corner of the plastic wrap and used a large spoon to fill the box with two mountains of rice and corn. Then I flooded the rest of the box with beef chunks and gravy.

  I closed the lid, grabbed a plastic spoon and fork, and jogged to the homeless guy.

  I’ve never seen a person smile so deeply, as his hands reached for the warm box.

  I jogged back to the dining room, but no one was there. I grabbed a broom and started sweeping.

  Phaedra returned to the dining room. “How’s your new friend?”

  “He’s good. I left him with a broad, beaming smile on his face.”

  Her smile deepened. She grabbed a towel and began wiping down the dining room tables.

  I returned to work. I finished sweeping that floor. Then I mopped it, and made sure that dining room floor sparkled. After finishing, we headed into the kitchen. I put the cleaning supplies away in the mop closet, while Phaedra headed to the manager’s office.

  We crossed paths again as Phaedra walked out of the office, and we said our goodbyes.

  I saw Raymond sitting in the tiny office in the kitchen and walked in. “Hello. Should I write something down?”

  “Why? You in trouble too?”

  “What do you mean?” Then I looked down and saw the logbook that Phaedra had signed. Community Service Log was written across the top in large bold letters.

  I looked at Raymond again as a grin stretched from ear to ear. “No. I’m good. I’m not in trouble yet, but that could always change.”

  “You’re free to go after you finish cleaning the dining room.”

  “Sir, I left that dining room sparkling.”

  “Good. Sorry about that late guy. We’ve had trouble with him in the past.”

  “I understand. Rules are rules.” I turned and strolled out of the office. I thought Phaedra was a nice girl, who cared about the homeless, but those words community service log seared question marks in my mind. I know I could never be a saint, but deep down inside us, humans possess a propensity for mischief and badness. But it never depends on how bad we are, we always search for a mate who is as pristine and pure as a newborn kitten in the world. I want a good girl, not a bad girl.

  Perhaps my mind was jumping to conclusions. Perhaps her crime was as simple as parking a car with one of the wheels touching the white line, or she forgot to return a library book.