I am Gideon: Chapter #10

I Learn Things.

The next morning, I started working in the basement, running the machines that washed and dried the sheets and towels for the inn and the rooms on the second floor. Compared to the Institution it was a very small operation. He demonstrated how the machines worked, and I gave him a quick nod. “I can do this,” I said.

“And wash your clothes,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he turned away. “I may need you waiting tables upstairs. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

So, I was launderer, dishwasher, waiter, and probably maker of beds, as well. I wondered if I’d maybe bragged a bit too much about all the things I could do. I did not relish the idea of going back upstairs to all those breakfast dishes piling up, plus my bowl of soup from yesterday had long since worn off, so when most of the sheets and towels were in the dryer, I ran upstairs and washed the breakfast dishes. There was leftover food on a couple of the plates, and I did not hesitate to eat it.

How to take a bath and get my clothes clean? That was the question. He said he’d be back to check on me, and I was pretty sure if he saw those brands on me, I’d be out of a job and out on the street. I ended up peeling off my dirty clothes and throwing them in one of the washers with the late-arriving sheets and towels, wrapping myself in the last dirty sheet, and sponging off with a soapy, wet towel out of the washer, before throwing it back in. I knew what I was going to do with my first earnings — buy a second set of clothes. I shivered with cold and the colder fear that he’d come down and see me for what I was — but he didn’t come back. Either he trusted me or he’d forgotten about me, either one being acceptable.

I got to see the upstairs after the lunch dishes were done. Four private rooms, one long room like a hospital ward with beds to rent — and a single bathroom. Where he slept I didn’t know and was not invited to find out. I showed him I could make a bed. He liked that.

“Well, Mr. Ing, you are a man of many talents,” he said with some satisfaction. “Tomorrow we’ll see how you do with helping customers.”

What did that mean? What if I had to write something down? I couldn’t write. What if I had to read something? I couldn’t read. At the moment I was too overwhelmed by the information I already had to worry about it.

His name turned out to be Azar, and he was a man of his word. I got a good, hot meal that evening, plenty of scraps off the plates, and a blanket for the mattress on the floor. I’d put in a hard day’s work, to be sure, but I still had a job, and what’s more, I felt like I’d earned a bit of respect, and that was worth more than anything.

Image Credit: Sage Hollis