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Was that hesitation? “It is,” Hunter said. “But we’ve been doing a lot of strategy planning for the primaries, so I made myself at home.”
Sounded reasonable, but I felt like there was more to the story. An unformed question tickled my tongue.
My phone chimed. The text from Luna just read,SOS.It’s getting worse.
“I need to go.” I grabbed my purse. “Where are my shoes?”
We spent a moment searching for them, but they were nowhere to be found.
How did I lose my shoes? It didn’t matter, since I couldn’t work in the heels anyway. I’d buy a pair of slippers in the hotel gift shop and borrow someone’s shoes when I got to the shelter. I was out of time. “Thank you. Foreverything.”
Hunter squeezed my fingers. “Any time. Good luck. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I wouldn’t.
On the elevator ride down, I raked my fingers through my hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. It was early enough the lobby was nearly empty. Fortunately, I had the day off from Loading Java because of last night’s event, so I didn’t have to let Lyn down by calling in.
I dialed the emergency plumber as I drove, and made arrangements to get someone out to the shelter in the next couple of hours.
Any other calls would have to wait until I saw the actual damage.
I pulled into the small strip of asphalt on the side of the building—aka theparking lot. Luna’s car was here, along with a few belonging to the residents. There wasn’t room for more.
The shelter was actually a converted pair of houses, some of the oldest in the city. A polygamist had built on the adjoining properties for his two wives, with a corridor connecting the homes, so he could more easily split his time between his families.
The main house was on the corner of the block, and that was where the entrance was, as well. I walked in, to find the main common area strewn with mattresses, water pooling around each, creating a series of mini lakes on the hardwood.
“The basement is flooded,” Luna explained. “So I had the mattresses brought up here.”
We were more crowded than normal due to the cold weather, so there were temporary rooms downstairs.
I couldn’t complain that she’d started on cleanup, even if the results weren’t quite ideal. The situation was shitty, regardless. I pointed at a couple of older teenagers. “You, haul these outside and stack them near the dumpster.” I singled out another lurker. “Grab the mop, ring it out in the bucket, and get as much water as you can.”
The bulk of the damage would be in the basement, but I needed to do a quick tour of the rest of the house, to make sure every room that needed attention got it.
The main floor was common area, with several tables, chairs, and sofas, for people to gather and be social. The other house held the kitchen and dining room.
It was the top two floors that made this shelter different from the larger, state-funded ones. The smaller, original bedrooms were still intact and slept two people each. I did a quick survey of the individual rooms, careful not to invade any more of the residents’ privacy than I needed to.
Since we only allowed minors here who had left home or had been kicked out due to their sexual orientation or identity, we wanted to give them a new home. A place where they could go without worrying for their safety, so they could get back to life and growing up.
That also meant everyone helped out, because this was their home.
My sister, Eva had been ten years younger than me, so I was gone and out on my own before she hit her teens. She and I hadn’t been close enough for her to come to me when she started struggling with her sexuality.
Instead, she’d gone to our parents. The people who should have protected and loved us. They sent her to conversion therapy, and less than two weeks in, she’d taken her life.
I never forgave them or myself. But at least here, these kids would have the kind of acceptance she hadn’t.
The upstairs was undamaged by today’s event. A few of the rooms looked like hurricanes had blown through, but that was status quo. A chill was setting in, though, and an overall musty smell permeated the building.
I told everyone to bundle up, to grab clothes from next door if they needed layers, and promised the heat would be back soon.
“How can I help?” Jesse—one of our older guys—leaned against his doorframe. Dark circles were under eyes that bugged out when he tried to hide his cough. He’d been sick for a couple days but refused to rest. There was always something more he felt hehadto do.
I pointed him back into the room. “You can get some sleep. I’m ordering you.”
His chuckle faded in a cough. “You ever take your own advice to slow down and let others help?”
