Chapter 3
Everyday Life- Wednesday Morning
Angel couldn’t sleep. Several times she got up and went to the bathroom just for something to do. Each time she came out she saw the sleeping lumps of women on each bed. Envy filled her soul at these women who could sleep so soundly. What was going on here? Her thoughts raced through the last few days. She had gotten away with the lie. These people believed that she was at the hospital having an operation. They didn’t even ask much about it. That one guy that handed out bottles of water prayed for her recovery, but they trusted her. Maybe that was the most distressing part. Angel had lied often. The fear of getting in trouble or being rejected plagued her and in that state of terror she always lied. Until today though, there was no guilt over the lies. Angel climbed back into bed, pulled the covers over her head and sobbed quietly.
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A quiet ring of the cell phone tore Hero from his bed. Quickly he raced to the phone across the room so that it would not wake Corrina. He feared it was too late, but she was a sound sleeper. Pushing the answer button on the phone as he quietly pulled the door shut he answered. There was no one for a moment. John pulled the phone back to see if he had just missed the call, but there was still nothing. He again put the phone to his ear. “Hello, this is John.” The number had not looked familiar, but many had his number. Suddenly he heard the sound of weeping and then the screen showed that the caller had hung up. Hero looked at the phone and stared blankly at the time trying to understand what it meant. After a moment it dawned on him that it was only . He had really only been asleep for a short while. He wanted his brain to shut down and go to sleep. He only had a few hours to sleep. Then he thought about the weeping call. He looked at the recent calls screen on his phone. The call came from a blocked number. Most likely the hospital, he thought. Maybe they will call back. Carefully John plugged the phone back in and went back to bed.
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Even in the middle of the night, the shelter seemed loud. Traffic raced up and down the street in front of the shelter. Sirens could be heard near and far.
The guests who were responsible for keeping the shelter safe at night, guest assistants, watched the action across the street. A prostitute was escorting an old man to one of the rooms of the hotel. Two guys entered another room. Like cockroaches all of the people milling around disappeared every time a police car drove past.
There were two guest assistants on duty, as usual. One was barely twenty, the other, Judy, looked older than her years from the harsh treatment she had endured while living a street life. They stood there reflecting on their memories of when they too were living that life. It wasn’t really all that long ago. In other ways, it seemed like a lifetime had passed. They heard laughter and then from somewhere else angry shouts and a haunting, desperate scream. But nobody across the street seemed to notice the sounds. The guest assistants climbed up on the small wall protecting the large sign that marked the Shelter to look up and down the street. They couldn’t see anyone in distress.
Suddenly, a bell rang and they both nearly jumped out of their skin. Somebody was at the back gate and needed a bed. Together they quickly moved through the dining room. They both had been welcomed into the shelter in the same way a couple of months earlier. They hurried, needing to be doing something, to talk with someone, to be active if for no other reason to get that scream out of their heads.
As they opened the back door, an emaciated woman was shaking the gate with all her might and murmuring angry sounds. She again rang the bell and uttered some more irate words. The guest assistants watched, wondering what to do. The woman’s bony hand moved her hair back and her head slowly moved up as she noticed the two women. Angry cursing rang out from the skeletal face and horrified the two guest assistants; they quickly shut the door and backed themselves into the dining room.
“What do we do?” The younger lady looked frightened; she looked to her partner for reassurance and advice.
“We aren’t going to let her in.” Judy said decidedly.
“Do we tell her?”
“I don’t know. She is freaking me out.”
“Do you think she has a demon or something?”
“I don’t know about all of that, but I have seen that look before, that’s meth.” She had seen a lot in her five decades, that’s for sure.
“I’ve never seen it from this side of the fence.” There was a thoughtful pause, and the younger one said, “Did I look like that?”
“I didn’t know you then, but most likely you did.” They could hear the tormented woman threatening them and demanding to be let in. Silently they looked at one another. Judy thought quickly, her street-honed instincts kicking in. “Look, go to the phone there. I’ll open the door and tell her to go away or we’ll call the police. If she goes away, great! If not, you are already at the phone.”
They followed the plan and though they were new at the whole prayer thing they both prayed. As the door opened it shed some extra light on the path between the dining room and the gate. Again, the desperate look in her eyes horrified Judy, as she weakly called out, “We’re not letting you in.” Silence filled the air. “Go away or we’ll call the police.”
“Call them, I don’t care you got to let me in. I am a person and I need a place to sleep. I’m tired.” Her harassed humanity began to show itself for a moment, and Judy could now see that she had been hit by something or someone. There was matted blood on one side of her head. The older guest assistant began to question her decision, pausing for a moment.
Then the woman at the gate resumed her barrage of curses. She grabbed the gate and began shaking it wildly trying to pry it off of its hinges. Judy signaled to the younger assistant, and the police were called.
