Page 41
Story: The Truth of Our Past
So later that night, I find myself packing paper bags full of a water bottle, toothbrush, travel toothpaste, a sandwich, and abusiness card for the shelter run by The Q Solutions. I hope I see Alec instead of telling him what I’m doing like a self-servingarsle.
Because right now I am a self-servingarsle.
It’s fulfilling helping The Q Solutions. They seek out the homeless and queer youth. It’s a remarkable undertaking. For the delivery, they pair counselors with volunteers who have self-defense training and de-escalation techniques for protection. It’s a good system.
We finish and I wander out of the storage/assembly area, hoping to find Alec but run into Joanne, the director.
I wave and she gestures for me to join her group.
“Von, it’s good to see you. Thanks for volunteering. We’re always happy to have more help. Did you get a tour?” she asks and then introduces me to the counselors.
“No.” And because I can’t help myself, I ask, “Have you seen Alec?” I’ve had too much time to obsess over our conversation.
“He’s teaching an art class. I’ll give you a quick tour so you can catch up with him when his class ends.” Joanne motions for me to follow her.
She shows me the common areas and hangout spaces for the kids and the counseling rooms. There’s a gorgeous mural thathas to be Cole’s artwork. As we walk around, Joanne tells me about their plans for expansion and how they plan to use the money Alec raised at the auction.
“I’ve never seen someplace that tries to address all the issues that queer youth face. It’s impressive.” I’m awestruck by the level of coordination and planning The Q Solutions needs to run smoothly.
Joanne sighs. “We do as much as we can, but the needs are so high it’s never enough. Thank you. Sometimes it’s nice to have a fresh perspective.”
“Do you operate in rural areas?”
“No, this is an urban program. Why do you ask?”
“Alec said he wishes he had someplace like this growing up. He seems interested in making that happen.” As soon as I’ve said it, I regret it. I have no business sharing Alec’s confidence with Joanne. They might be friends, but I’m not in a position to divulge his past or future goals.
“We have a sister program for rural areas. These programs can use all the help they can get. Let me get some information for Alec.” Before I can stop her and try to downplay my words, Joanne speed walks down the hall.Skit!
While my brain overthinks my idiocy, I hear chairs scraping against the floor and voices getting loud. Alec’s voice rises above everyone’s and calls out instructions.
A parade of kids surges out of the classroom across the hall. Alec trades insults with some of the teens as they leave with wide grins. He has clearly made their night.
“Hey.” Alec tilts his chin at me, giving no indication he’s surprised to see me.
“Hey,” I repeat back and an awkward silence falls between us. Alec’s expression is open, but he’s tapping his foot.
Alec had a point when he told his coworker that I do not speak English. Why is finding the right thing to say so hard? Monkeys can learn sign language, surely, I can think of something to say.
“I helped put together the emergency kits for the homeless,” I finally say.
“Glad you could help out. They do great work here,” he says with sincerity.
The silence is so oppressive, I can hear the roar of my blood pumping through my body, presumably to keep me alive, but it might drown me.
“Do you want something else, Von?”
To take you home with me.
To kiss you again.
To show you with my body how very sorry I am.
To tell you I was a colossal jävlar. For you to look at me and see me.
For you to flirt with me and mean it.
To make good on my promise to show you how good a man can make you feel.
Because right now I am a self-servingarsle.
It’s fulfilling helping The Q Solutions. They seek out the homeless and queer youth. It’s a remarkable undertaking. For the delivery, they pair counselors with volunteers who have self-defense training and de-escalation techniques for protection. It’s a good system.
We finish and I wander out of the storage/assembly area, hoping to find Alec but run into Joanne, the director.
I wave and she gestures for me to join her group.
“Von, it’s good to see you. Thanks for volunteering. We’re always happy to have more help. Did you get a tour?” she asks and then introduces me to the counselors.
“No.” And because I can’t help myself, I ask, “Have you seen Alec?” I’ve had too much time to obsess over our conversation.
“He’s teaching an art class. I’ll give you a quick tour so you can catch up with him when his class ends.” Joanne motions for me to follow her.
She shows me the common areas and hangout spaces for the kids and the counseling rooms. There’s a gorgeous mural thathas to be Cole’s artwork. As we walk around, Joanne tells me about their plans for expansion and how they plan to use the money Alec raised at the auction.
“I’ve never seen someplace that tries to address all the issues that queer youth face. It’s impressive.” I’m awestruck by the level of coordination and planning The Q Solutions needs to run smoothly.
Joanne sighs. “We do as much as we can, but the needs are so high it’s never enough. Thank you. Sometimes it’s nice to have a fresh perspective.”
“Do you operate in rural areas?”
“No, this is an urban program. Why do you ask?”
“Alec said he wishes he had someplace like this growing up. He seems interested in making that happen.” As soon as I’ve said it, I regret it. I have no business sharing Alec’s confidence with Joanne. They might be friends, but I’m not in a position to divulge his past or future goals.
“We have a sister program for rural areas. These programs can use all the help they can get. Let me get some information for Alec.” Before I can stop her and try to downplay my words, Joanne speed walks down the hall.Skit!
While my brain overthinks my idiocy, I hear chairs scraping against the floor and voices getting loud. Alec’s voice rises above everyone’s and calls out instructions.
A parade of kids surges out of the classroom across the hall. Alec trades insults with some of the teens as they leave with wide grins. He has clearly made their night.
“Hey.” Alec tilts his chin at me, giving no indication he’s surprised to see me.
“Hey,” I repeat back and an awkward silence falls between us. Alec’s expression is open, but he’s tapping his foot.
Alec had a point when he told his coworker that I do not speak English. Why is finding the right thing to say so hard? Monkeys can learn sign language, surely, I can think of something to say.
“I helped put together the emergency kits for the homeless,” I finally say.
“Glad you could help out. They do great work here,” he says with sincerity.
The silence is so oppressive, I can hear the roar of my blood pumping through my body, presumably to keep me alive, but it might drown me.
“Do you want something else, Von?”
To take you home with me.
To kiss you again.
To show you with my body how very sorry I am.
To tell you I was a colossal jävlar. For you to look at me and see me.
For you to flirt with me and mean it.
To make good on my promise to show you how good a man can make you feel.
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