Page 36 of Heartstring

Stan whines.

“Yeah, you heard me. Don’t get all cute. That shit works with Seymour because he’s a softie.”

He barks, and I can’t help giving him an ear scratch.

He runs toward the van as soon as I open the door. At least it’s not raining now. Wet dog smell is not what I need in the van.

I could work from home, but using what used to be the old gym office at the soup kitchen helps me focus and feel like I’m at work.

The survey Ellis suggested to assess everyone’s requirement for support needs to be carried out urgently. Today I’m meeting one of the high school teachers and a few students who’ve volunteered to help with that.

I park by the church and head over to the back door of the old school gym. Even though everyone calls it the soup kitchen now, I can’t forget it used to be a sports center for the local high school. The floor is still waxed, the old bleachers are still in place, and in the room I use as my office, there’s still a whiteboard with some notes I can’t bring myself to erase.

It’s probably weird to feel nostalgic for a place I’ve never seen function for its original purpose. If I had a therapist, they’d probably say it’s my brain trying to hold on to memories of a time when everything was great in my life. I try not to think about it too much because those thoughts always bring Mik to the forefront, and I’m still trying to ignore what happened the other day.

Yep, ignorance is bliss, and so is denial.

Stan makes himself comfortable by the small heater I turned on in the room, so I get to work.

A few hours later, a knock tells me my volunteers have arrived.

I usher them into my office since it’s the warmest place. The teacher introduces them all, and I promise to try to remember their names.

Unsurprisingly, Stan becomes the immediate focus of everyone’s attention.

“Can Stan come with us when we go out?” one of the students asks.

“I’m afraid not. He’s not great with a lot of people and strangers.”

“But he’s loving us,” another one says.

“You heard Mr. David. We’re here to support the community, right? The faster you get today’s work done, the longer you can play with Stan before you go home,” the teacher says.

Suddenly there’s a rush to pick up the printed surveys from my desk.

One of the students hangs back at the end of the line. I hadn’t noticed her before, but she seems both entranced by Stan and afraid to get too close. As the kids all gather by the door, I go through the instructions for the surveys again, but I keep an eye on the girl.

She calls her teacher, and they seem to have a hushed conversation.

“Okay, you’re all set,” I tell the kids. “Go out there and do your best.”

Once the kids are all gone, I check on the girl left behind.

“Mr. David, this is Kayleigh,” the teacher says.

“Hi, Kayleigh.”

The girl raises her hand in a shy wave as her teacher nods toward the door.

“Kayleigh, do you want to keep an eye on Stan while I speak to your teacher about something?”

“Okay.”

The teacher follows me outside.

“Kay is new to the school and hasn’t made many friends. Her closest friend is unwell today, so I think she’s struggling a little being around other kids she doesn’t know as well. She was homeschooled,” the teacher explains.

“It’s not a problem. I can keep her busy here if you want to go with the other kids. Emy and Cathy will be here any time now to start preparing stuff for tomorrow’s meal. I’m sure they could use a hand.”