Two Years Later
Alanna
“Dad, are we seriously doing this?” I ask, staring up at the building that houses a homeless shelter. When he told me he’d take me out on Saturday, I assumed he’d be taking me somewhere nice to make up for having to work on my sixteenth birthday.
Instead, I find myself staring up at a place that seems incredibly detached from our usual lives. Why would he bring me here?
Dad leans back against his beloved truck, a pensive look on his face. It’s almost like he isn’t even here with me at all, as though he’s lost in memories I know nothing of. Lately, he’s been like this often. When we lost Mom, Dad and I didn’t fall apart like we both thought we would. We just got closer. We learned to lean on each other. He was the one I’d turn to if anything interesting happened during my day, and he’d tell me about boring work stuff that I’d barely comprehend. We’d have dinner together, and we’d act as though Mom didn’t leave a gaping hole in both of our hearts.
In the last couple of weeks, things have been different. He doesn’t come home until I’m fast asleep, and on the odd occasion that he does, he’s buried in work, barely present when I try to talk to him. I miss him, and I was really hoping to spend some quality time together. I don’t understand why he’d take me to a homeless shelter on the first day off he’s taken in weeks.
“Dad,” I complain, my tone whiny.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, his gaze lowering. “I used to live here,” he says eventually, his voice soft.
I look up sharply, shocked. “What?”
Dad nods, a melancholic smile on his face. “Come on. It’s about time I came back here. This place was instrumental in getting me back on my feet, and it’s about time I pay it forward.”
I’m in a daze as I follow Dad into the building, feeling somewhat on edge. The facility is well-maintained, and the entrance looks like an office building that they’ve tried to turn into a home, complete with pictures of frequent visitors and notable people that have tried to make a difference.
“Robert!” I look up at the sound of my father’s name. A tall, friendly looking man with the kindest smile walks up to us, his eyes roaming over my father. “Look at you! I once said I never wanted to see you here again, but you’re a sight for sore eyes. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for the shelter.”
“Ricardo,” Dad says, an equally radiant smile on his face. There’s something more in Dad’s expression, though. He usually looks proud and stands tall, but today he looks humble and grateful. Whoever this man is, my father values him endlessly. “I’m here to show my daughter around today. Donating is one thing, but I thought it was about time that I visit.”
Ricardo offers me his hand, and I shake it the way my dad taught me, my grip firm and confident. “It’s good to meet you, Alanna.”
I nod. “Likewise.” I’m curious about the man in front of me. I never knew that my dad was homeless once upon a time, and I’m curious… not just about this place, but about that time in my father’s life. He’s a well-known and prominent businessman, and though we don’t discuss finances often, I’m certain he’s worth millions. I know his company is, for sure. He started as a general worker in construction, learning the trade and working his way up before he was offered investment opportunities that led him to where he is today, becoming one of the biggest property development contractors. I never thought much about where he started, and he’s never volunteered any information before.
“Let me show you around,” Dad says. “It looks like not much has changed in the years since I left.”
I follow him quietly, my heart filled with a type of sorrow I’ve never felt before as I take in the people around us. Many of them look just like us, and not at all what I’d consider stereotypical homeless people. They look clean, their clothes tidy.
“You’d be surprised just how easy it is to lose everything,” Dad says softly. “Sometimes all it takes is losing your job. The bills pile up, and one thing leads to another. Often, people are only here for a few days or a few weeks. Those are the lucky ones.”
“How long were you here?” I ask, part of me fearing his answer.
Dad looks at me and sighs. “Over a year. Far longer than I should have been. Ricardo helped me find a job, and he made sure I always looked presentable. He kept us all fed and as healthy as we could be. Many of the guys that work for me today are people I met right here, people who just needed a chance, someone to believe in them.”
Dad leads me to what appears to be a large sitting room, filled with books and one television that a dozen people are sitting in front of. “You said you wanted some more pocket money, didn’t you?”
I nod, and Dad turns to me. “Come volunteer here once a week, and I’ll pay you for the time you spend helping others. I know you’re upset that I’ve barely spent any time with you lately, and I think it’ll be good for you to spend some timehere. We’re blessed, Alanna, but things could have been very different for us. It’s important to me that you remember that, that you realize what I work so hard for.”
I blink in surprise. Work here? This isn’t at all close to our house. It’d take me ages to come here and then travel back home.
“Think about it, sweetheart. If you agree to volunteer here, I’ll pay you twice the rate you’d get working in retail. Go walk around for a bit while you decide. I’ll be right here.”
I nod and look around me hesitantly, but Dad smiles encouragingly and tips his head toward the door behind us. I sigh as I turn around and walk away, doing as he asks.
My heart sinks when I walk into a large room filled with more bunk beds than I can count. I could fit ten of these beds into my bedroom, and it instantly makes me feel guilty for having as much as I do, and still wanting more of Dad’s time. I suppose that’s exactly why he brought me here today, to help me realize what the cost of everything we have is, what his success stemmed from.
“Alanna?”
I look to my side and I’m met with familiar dark green eyes. “Simon?”
He smiles, and my heart skips a beat. He looks older, rougher, but every bit as handsome. Simon is wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt, but he looks good. What is he doing here? That day I saw him at the cemetery, it was clear he wasn’t poor in the slightest. I still remember the watch he was wearing then. It was identical to my dad’s in everything but the color. Simon’s watch was gold, while Dad’s is silver.
“That’s what you think Si is short for?”