I am Gideon: Chapter #8

I Seek Employment.

Desperate though I was, I had sense enough to realize that a boy with only one set of clothes was going to be noticed.  I worked on a back story.  I was a student doing research for a school project on ancient modes of transport.  Might work if they didn’t ask me which school I went to.  I watched the museum that day.  I saw when the person who worked at the entrance went on her break and to lunch.  Someone who exited but never entered would be pretty obvious. It gave me a window where I could slip out and go look for work.

That evening I figured out where the alarms were.  I craned my neck into side rooms and discovered where the blankets were kept for padding displays as they were moved.  There were plenty.  I could take one at night and store it on the bus.  If it was found, it wouldn’t mean much. It was a moving pad. 

I slipped onto the bus, sat on the floor behind a seat and ate my last half a sandwich. There was a brief time between the museum closing and the cleaning crew coming, and I took that time to scurry out and grab a blanket.  I pawed quickly through the garbage and found a cup for some water.  Then, remembering how miserable I’d been the night before, I grabbed a bottle with a lid – just in case.  I curled up on the seat of the bus, warm under the furniture pad, and thanked the Creator Spirit I was safe. 

I knew it wasn’t sustainable.  My coins were nearly gone.  I was living on sandwich halves of stale bread and cheap cheese.  The person at the door hadn’t seen me come in, so I couldn’t very well be leaving.  I had to wait until she went on her break to shuffle out onto the street.  By then it was mid-day and I had very little time to look for work. 

I didn’t know how to do that, either.  Did you go business to business and ask? I couldn’t read, so if there was a “Help Wanted” sign in the window, I wouldn’t recognize it anyway.  I was wandering aimlessly down a side street, wondering how to go about finding work, when I came upon a ragged line of mostly men – some lounging against the wall, some standing two or three abreast talking – all making slow progress toward the open double doors of a brick building. 

I was going to walk past, but my nose caught the aroma of soup, and I remembered my time with Brother Darwin.  I fell back and dropped into line.  “Soup kitchen?” I asked.

“Yeah,” someone answered. 

I was so grateful.  I visited for a bit as we inched forward, got inside, grabbed a bowl, and looked up into the face of Brother Darwin.  “Welcome,” he said pleasantly.  There was not a glimmer of recognition.  My mother hadn’t known me, either.  I felt a thrill go up my spine.  I was free.  My voice was changing but I didn’t take the chance.  I just nodded and dropped my eyes. 

I sat down next to two men talking across the table.  One of them was saying that he’d been washing dishes at an inn just down the street, but the barkeep was a hard man who expected too much.  Too much.  Barely got a break from noon to midnight.  Had to sleep on the floor in the back room, only got one meal a day.  Had to scrub floors, to boot. He’d quit that afternoon.

I asked casually how many doors down this place of horrors was, and he jerked his head to the left and grunted.  “Dark blue building on the other side of the street.  Why, you lookin’ for more work than you can handle?”

I just shrugged, gulped my soup, and left.  When I got outside, I ran as hard as I could toward the dark blue building.  

Image Credit: Sage Hollis