Finding a Way to Care

 

            Even though he lived four doors down, he could still hear the fighting and arguing from his neighbor's room, "Why cannot people just live in peace," he thought, "what is the point of life if there is no joy?" Most would call him a grumpy old man, but the unpleasant label could not have been any further from the truth, he was thoughtful, introspective, and deeply concerned for almost everyone he met and came to know, to the degree that he was capable of doing so.

              Having been both young and old his entire life, the confusion regarding his personality and demeanor grated on him most unpleasantly, leaving him bitter at times, possibly melancholic, frustrated, and usually somewhat helpless. He rolled to his side, his pillow feeling far too thin, to look at the rising sun and grumble that someone would inflict this sort of auditory abuse on others at such an early hour. He slid his feet into his slippers as he sat up on the edge of his bed, rotating his neck to work out the kinks.

              A sip of water from the glass on his nightstand cleared out his throat as he stood humming by the bedroom window, looking out across a gloomy, unkempt city street littered with sad, lonely people, despised by most and living as mere breathing rejects of society. The next hour was spent on his knees in front of his icon corner, reciting from memory the names of hundreds of those people, and many others that struggled with life despite being financially sound and socially acceptable. The morning sun began its crawl across his floor, signaling the start of day and he quickly dressed, to find a single slice of bread alone on the table, to eat while he walked down the two flights of stairs to the street.

              He would spend the next eight hours carrying crates of fish from the waterfront to a line of wagons for delivery to local restaurants, the sand between the origin and destination was incapable of supporting any sort of transportation. With one hundred dollars in coin, transferred from boss to his hand to his pocket, he returned to the main street to return to the street in front of his apartment. His stomach complained of its woeful neglect, having seen nothing of sustenance since the singular piece of bread that morning.

              He purchased two sandwiches from a vendor at the corner and began his slow, methodical, thoughtful journey toward the scores of prostitutes two blocks in the opposite direction. Consuming one of the culinary delights on his way in their direction, he protected the other holding it discreetly until he reached the edge of the red-light district, looking over the girls as he moved among them. "There is always a certain look in their eyes," he told himself, "some are dead and cold, others are tense and fearful, keep looking, keep looking." Then he saw her, very small, horrifyingly thin, scarcely clothed, and impossibly young, no more than eighteen, they made eye contact, seeing a look of terror, of hatred, and of disgust, he could see her trembling, whether from fear or cold, he was uncertain, "Can I purchase your company for the entire evening?" he asked.

              "Yes," she muttered. He took her by the hand, finding it wickedly cold and stiff. The odd couple walked away from the darkness and depravity of it all, leaving behind the crowd, he slipped off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders, noticing a slight jump as he did so. "Thank you," she said. "I am always so cold, this is nice." He led her to his apartment, looking at her bare legs as she walked up the stairs in front of him, noticing the trembling and thinness of her flesh, with a slight blue color.

              Opening the door for her, he followed her inside, closed the door, and added wood to the fire, directing her to the couch. She slipped off his jacket, handing it to him and as he turned to hang it up behind him, he turned back to find her removing the small bit of clothing she had on, "no, no, no, wait," he said, "put those back on, I have a blanket for you, please sit down."

              Wrapping her up in the thick quilt, she snuggled onto the couch, looking very confused and uncertain, "um, what am I doing here?" she asked, "I'm confused." He knelt on the floor in front of her, slipping a pair of socks on her now bare feet, and placing the second sandwich on her lap.

              "I'm here to take care of you," he said, "and here is your money for the evening, like we agreed." Placing the pile of coins next to the food, he rose to his feet and sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, "please eat, I'm sure you're hungry, and hopefully you're much warmer now." He watched her set the money aside, pick up the sandwich and take a bite, the look of happiness and contentment on her face only emphasized the value of what he was doing, despite the slander and disgust of his neighbors, who only judged on what they saw from the outside. "Dirty old man," he could hear in his memory from weeks before.

              He slowly rose to his feet and entered his kitchen, retrieving a glass of water for her, setting the glass on the small table to her immediate right, "I thought something to drink might be nice," he said, returning to his chair opposite her. They sat in silence as she finished her meal, mostly likely the first real meal she had eaten in quite some time, judging by her emaciated form. She sipped the water and pulled the blanket tighter around herself, leaning to the opposite side with a combined look of contentment and distrust, her eyes growing heavy from the warmth, the meal, and the comfort.

              "Wait, wait," he said, "you never told me you name. Mine is Joshua."

              "Hi, Joshua, my name is Brianne, but everyone calls me Bree."

              He stood up, extending his hand to help her to her feet. The look on her face immediately turned from contentment to disgust. "Here, come with me," he said. "You won't need your blanket." Still holding her hand, he led her into his bedroom, leaving the door open and he sat her on the edge of the bed. He rummaged through the dresser, occasionally glancing at her as he pulled out different items of clothing. Finally deciding on a pair of wool pants, a sweater, and an ankle length gown, he laid the items on the bed next to her. "Please put these things on, except the gown. You can sleep in here tonight and I'll sleep on the couch. We can talk in the morning. Sleep well, Bree, I'll close the door behind me and also, the bathroom is connected to the bedroom."

              The opening of the bedroom door stirred him from his sleep, as he had spent the majority of the night in prayer for the young girl, finding only two hours of sleep himself. She emerged from the room, fully clothed, including the gown, rubbing her face, and smiling. "Good morning, Joshua," she said. "I don't understand what happened last night. Do you not like me? Why did you bring me here?"

              "Good morning, Bree," he said. "Yes, I do like you, I brought you here because I like you and wanted to help you. I hope you slept well. Would you like some breakfast? I have eggs, cheese, and bread."

              "Yes, thank you," she said, sitting down in the chair, now occupying opposite positions from the night before. She looked at him with a puzzled, quizzical look on her face. "You remind me of my grandfather but only a little as I was very young when he died, he was the only one who was ever nice to me."

              Joshua puttered around the kitchen preparing breakfast, to sip water as she ate, still looking confused and uncertain. "There is one more thing," he said, and as he spoke, he watched her heart sink as if she thought that this was all too good to be true. "No, please don't be troubled, this is a very good thing. I know some women who live on a farm far outside of the city. They can give you a room of your own, teach you how to take care of a garden, to take care of animals, and give you plenty of food and protection, as there are no men anywhere near them. This is a chance for you to enjoy life, to escape the abuse you have been part of. Can I take you there? They are very good and kind people."

              He watched her form relax as her mind struggled to comprehend all that had happened and had been said. She swallowed the bite in her mouth and simultaneously shook her head to respond verbally, "Yes, that sounds very nice."

              "Oh, very good," he said. "We can leave as soon as your done eating. A wagon will take us to the edge of the city, and we will need to walk about a mile to their farm. That will give me a chance to get to know more about you, if that's okay." She slid her chair back from the table to bury her face into her hands, releasing years of tension, stress, abuse, and neglect, a sobbing, broken girl, overwhelmed by the goodness of a complete stranger."

              "I had no idea there were good people anywhere," she said. "Yes, I would like to go right away and thank you for the food, the clothes, the sleep, and your kindness." They stood up at the same time and she embraced him, slightly trembling, he stood motionless, simply placing his hands on her shoulders.

              After the wagon ride to the edge of the city, they walked the mile to the farm, and part way through the journey, she took hold of Joshua's hand, still in shock of what was happening. They talked most of the way and his heart continued to ache as he listened to her detailed description of the abuse from a mother in the same line of work as she and the men she would bring home. Passing through multiple fields they approached a small farm surrounded by cows, pigs, chickens, fruit trees, and numerous gardens of both vegetables and flowers.

              Joshua knocked on the front door to be greeted by two middle aged women wearing clothes nearly identical to Bree's. Joshua took Bree's hands, kissed them, introduced her to the sisters and the sisters to her, gave her a slight hug, said goodbye, retracing their steps back to the edge of town. Bree stood on the front step of the farm and watched him disappear down the road.

              "Hello, Bree" one of them said, "we are so glad that you have chosen to come stay with us. Our stories are the same as yours. Joshua brought us here years ago and we can promise that you'll be safe, happy, and protected here. Welcome, all of the sisters are here to help you."

(Roughly based on a true story)