Thursdays

Charlie woke up in a burned-out shell of a house with a rat scurrying by her feet, sniffing for crumbs of food. Grey morning light unfurled through cracks in the black wood. Raindrops pooled in small puddles all around her. She curled her body into a ball and fought to fall back asleep where her dreams were warm and her husband alive.

“Read for me, Charlie.” He begged her.

She responded by reading a passage from an ancient tome. She couldn’t hear her voice. It faded into the background of silence. He lay in her arms, his eyes staring off into a faraway place.

He had fought the nightmares for so long. On a Thursday morning, he set himself free. She didn’t want to go to work. Would he be okay while she was gone? He promised her he would be there when she came back. When she returned on her lunch break, the house was empty.

That was 80 Thursdays ago.

A brutal wind whistled through the house. She wasn’t alone. A swift movement descended and landed on the rat, catching it in its talons. The rodent squealed and then went silent. The barn owl took its breakfast, leaving her alone to find her own food. Her mouth was dry, and her lips cracked and bleeding. Hunger swelled in her stomach and churned.

There were 6 fast-food restaurants in the next five miles. Some workers allowed her to sit and rest without buying anything, others chased her out. Trial and error had taught her where she could find a place to sit. Today was a Thursday. Thursdays meant Nina was working the morning shift at the Burger Chef four miles up the road. Nina would set aside a meal for her.

Four miles wouldn’t take long. She wasn’t moving fast that morning, but she could make it there within a couple of hours. Her feet ached. The sneakers she had were wearing out; her little toe stuck out of a small hole. Water seeped through the thin canvas, washing her feet in dirty snowmelt. She hadn’t walked a mile before her toes were numb.

Cars thundered past her. A huge semi roared by, splashing dirty snowmelt all over her jeans and coat. The shock of the cold went straight through to her core. There was a shelter another six miles up the road from the restaurant she would walk to. They might have clean clothes. At the very least, they would have a hot shower. If she could scrounge up fifty cents, she might be able to stay the night.

The day after John died, the school fired her for missing too many days. She found herself stuck in a house that she couldn’t afford to fix up, but nowhere else to go. The last morning in her house, she took a long, hot shower and inhaled the smell of her shampoo. Then on that spring morning, she packed her backpack with the basics. Socks, panties, jeans, t-shirts, her Tigers jacket, and a few pictures of her and John in their better days. She put the key to the house on a string and locked the door behind her.

That was sixty Thursdays ago.

“It’s funny how people define needy,” she said to the ghosts who kept her company. “All those people who think they’re so hard up for food and help.” She laughed out loud and continued the conversation, “if they only knew.”

The bus stop was up ahead. A small crowd of people clustered together, all except one. Sylvia sat on the bench. She was a short, Polish woman from Hamtramck who worked at the dime store. Charlie liked her well enough, but she was a moody old woman. Sometimes she offered her pastries if she had extra, other times she yelled at Charlie in her grumpy way.

“Charlie, why doncha find a job?” Sylvia yelled at her from the bench. Charlie sat next to her. “Oh, what happened to you?”

“Truck.” Charlie shrugged. “It’s cold.”

“Honey,” the old woman wrapped an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “You need to get a job. Get off the streets.”

“I know, Sylvia.”

A gruff blonde man yelled a slur at Charlie.

Sylvia turned around and gave him a dirty look. “Leave her alone.”

“That’s not a her. That’s a dude.” He yelled back.

“It’s okay, Sylvia.” Charlie patted her knee. “I gotta keep moving.”

She walked off and kept right on walking. Can’t talk sense into people with no sense, she thought.

By the time she got to Burger Chef, the rain had slowed to a slight drizzle. She walked into the restaurant, leaving a river of water behind her. A few people turned to stare at her. Nina waved hi from behind the counter.

Charlie went into the bathroom first. This was the worst. The men’s room was urinals and dirty stalls. The face in the mirror was an old man’s face. A scruffy salt and pepper beard, tired eyes with lines that stretched into his cheeks. The wet hair clung to his bushy sideburns. This wasn’t her. She saw a face in need of a shave, eyes that needed a thousand hours of sleep, and hair that needed a cut and curling iron.

When she came out, Nina was waiting for her at a booth with a tray of food.

“Dive in!” She waved a cup of soda at her. “Mello yello.”

Charlie eased onto the seat across from her and resisted the urge to pile food in her mouth. Next to the cheeseburger was fifty cents. Charlie gasped. “Is this Christmas?”

“Nah, that was last month. I have some news,” Nina said after a few moments of watching Charlie devour the hamburger.

Charlie looked at her, seeing the tears in her eyes.

“I got a promotion!” She blurted out through tears. “They’re moving me up to Royal Oak.”

Charlie chewed slowly, savoring the food. “I’m thrilled for you.” She had helped Nina through her toughest year in English. When Nina first came into her class, she was barely passing. By the time she graduated, she had bounced up to a B plus. She reached across the table and held her hand. “Why are you crying?”

“I won’t be here anymore.”

Charlie squelched her tears. “Oh, no. No. Don’t. I’m a big girl. I’m going to be fine.”

“I got you something, though.” She reached under the table and brought out a Montgomery Ward bag.

Charlie couldn’t contain herself as she accepted the bag.

“I guessed with the size, but my boyfriend helped me out.”

Charlie looked inside and found a new pair of shoes and two packages of socks. “Tell me you didn’t spend your entire paycheck on me.”

“Like I said, I got a raise. You dig?” Nina smiled and wiped her face with a napkin.

Charlie nodded and sobbed. “I dig.” She laughed.

She put on two pairs of socks and wiggled her toes. The shoes were big but were warm and reassuring.

An hour later, Nina handed Charlie her phone number and hugged her old teacher goodbye.

A young man stared at her as she crossed his path. “Freak.” He stood and poured his soda over her. Drops of cola sputtered across her clean, white shoes.

“Get out!” Nina hollered. “You,” she pointed at the man, “get out of my restaurant.”

Charlie stopped to get a napkin and wiped off her shoes.

The rain had kicked back up. Loneliness did its best to creep into her new shoes and walk with her. She stifled its efforts by remembering Nina’s kindness. It wasn’t the first time that someone had abused her, it likely wouldn’t be the last.

The first time came from her father, who called her a freak.

In the seventh grade, her teacher hurled gay slurs at her.

Most of the kids just blushed and turned away. “I see you looking at me, Darryl.” She pointed her nose at the pasty German boy who sat in the back. “I see you.” He glared at her. Why did he look at her with those pale blue eyes?

About five years ago, she ran into someone from school. He was older, perhaps smarter.

“I am so sorry for not sticking up for you.

“We were kids.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Did you know Darryl is gay?”

Her back stiffened. “No, I didn’t.”

The old acquaintance fell quiet. “I heard he’s living in New York. He’s sick.”

Her back lost shape, and her spirit collapsed. She didn’t wish ill on anyone. The last time she had seen him was at prom. Darryl had taken a girl from the glee club. Charlie had gone with a group of friends. He saw Darryl sitting with his date and drinking punch. They looked like they were avoiding each other. Darryl looked at Charlie and stared.

This was before Charlie had come out. This was when people called her Charles or Chuck. She was a woman trying to be a gay man back in the day. Then she met John. He fell in love with her. During the day at work, she was Charles. At home, she was Charlie. The school administration didn’t care what she did during her own time, but at school, she had to play by the rules.

The sky was getting dark again. Storm clouds collected overhead. Dense, navy clouds. A rare, soft thunder rumbled in from the east, over the distant riverbanks, and into the housing district. If she wanted to beat the rain, she needed to move fast.

The downpour started minutes before she arrived. She darted up the steps to the door and saw the dim lights. Her heart skipped a small precious beat, afraid that it was closed. Her hand tried the handle and felt the immense relief of finding they were open.

Martel grinned when he saw her. “How’s it going, Charlie?” He waved. “New clothes in the closet,” he pointed to the back. “Better hurry.”

Jeans, tops, dresses, and coats overfilled the small closet. Jackpot. It felt like she was shopping at the mall. She found a couple of pairs of jeans, a sweater, and a t-shirt. Hugging the clothes close to her, she scouted out the showers.

The hot water pounded against her back. Her hair lathered up and smelled like flowers. For a few minutes, she felt like a normal human. The soap washed away the grime of the last week and the razor scraped away the telltale sign she was anything less than a woman.

Georgia, the shelter manager, came into the kitchen while Charlie was making herself a cup of tea. “Someone donated a box of make-up. It’s in the closet but under a bunch of purses.”

With her cup of tea, she went in and combed through the box of brand-new cosmetics, plucking out the colors that matched her skin tone. In the bathroom, she applied the makeup with such a careful hand so that when she came out, all the women complimented her. “I could never get my make-up to look that good.”

“Yes, you could.” She replied. “I’m here every week. Come back next week and I’ll show you.”

Georgia was watching and grinned with a wicked gleam in her eye. “I bet we can get someone to donate make-up kits.”

It snowed the next Wednesday afternoon. Charlie stood on the corner of Woodward Ave and the Fisher freeway. She held a sign asking for any donations. A car slowed to a stop at the red light. Charlie made eye contact with the driver. He averted his eyes to the other side of the street, where she wasn’t. He looked back at her. The light turned green, and he turned the corner, driving away.

A station wagon pulled next to her with the passenger window rolled down. The driver scooted over and offered her ten cents. “God bless you,” the woman told her before she drove off.

Ten cents would get her a phone call, maybe some lettuce. The coin lay cupped in her chapped hands. A dirty old dime from 1964.

Charlie rested the sign against her legs and looked around. Traffic was increasing and daylight was fading. She guessed it must have been after five by now. St Patrick was offering shelter for the night because of the weather. Any other day, it would have taken half an hour to get there, but the pavement was icy. At the rate she was going, it would be an hour before she got there.

Bright yellow streetlights reflected off of the snow and into her eyes, further slowing her down. Another half-inch of snow had collected by the time St Patrick was in sight. A woman in a tattered coat and ripped bell-bottoms passed by her.

“Don’t bother. They don’t have room for people like us.” Her cold black eyes bore a hole into Charlie’s hope for a warm bed.

In the cold, dark night she considered her few options. Another two miles up the road was the house she had found the week before. There were plenty of other broken-down houses, but this one had an intact roof and wasn’t boarded up.

It took close to two hours to make it that far. By the time she did, she was ready to collapse. She peeked in through the cracks, looking for any signs that someone else had taken up residence. Without warning, someone grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back, then slammed her into the rough wood. They pulled her back again. An angry voice growled all sorts of obscenities and curses into her ear before slamming her back into the wall.

Scuffling and scurrying woke her from her unconscious state. A rat chittered behind her. A soft breeze dusted the back of her neck. The rodent screamed. She turned her aching body. An unearthly white face stared at her in the dim morning light.

“I covered you in newspapers and old clothes to keep you warm.” Darryl was older, skinnier now. Abuse and illness marked his body. “I was here last night when you got attacked.”

“Good god, Darryl.” She sat up to get a better look. Every muscle in her body ached. “What are you doing here?”

He blinked and looked away. “Settling a debt.”

“I heard you were sick.”

“Still am.” He laughed and coughed.

A million diamonds sparkled in the early sunlight. Fresh snow buried the night. Darryl didn’t stay with her. They didn’t talk about the past. They didn’t talk about what happened. He didn’t even say goodbye; he smiled and walked away. She was going north; he was going south.

She fingered the dime in her jean’s pocket. Nina’s number was jammed in the other pocket. Another mile up the road, there would be a payphone a mile or so up the road. Maybe she would call Nina.

Two miles up the road and there sat Sylvia on the bench, staring at her feet. Charlie sat next to her. Sylvia never looked up.

“How’s it going, Sylvia?”

“They took my house.” Her nose dripped. “I have nowhere to go.”

Charlie wrapped her arms around her. “Who took your house?”

Sylvia sniffed. “The bank. The bank took my house. I’m an old woman. I have no children. Where do I go?”

Charlie looked around her. The man who yelled at her last week watched the old woman, then looked away. A payphone stood in the parking lot at the bar behind them.

“Is there anyone you can call? Family? Somewhere?”

“Not a one.”

Charlie sat with her in stony silence until a bus came. Sylvia didn’t look at her. “I’m sorry. For all these months of getting on you.” She was the last person on the bus. Charlie knew she would never see her again.

She sat on the bench, with the dirty dime in her hand. There was a payphone behind her, and another bus would be along. Maybe ten cents could change her life.

A car pulled to the curb. “Good lord, Charlie!” A voice cried out. Georgia rushed to her side. “What happened to your face? Who did this?”

Charlie looked up into her face. A chill ran through her. “No clue.”

Georgia walked her across the street to the dime store to get some mercurochrome and band-aids. They sat in the car while she dabbed it on the wounds. Charlie winced. “Let me buy you lunch,” she offered. “I want to talk to you about something.”

A quiet breakfast at a diner was a treat that Charlie hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Seating herself across from Georgia in a corner booth, she felt uneasy about the conversation they were about to have.

“You have a knack for working with people. What did you do before…?”

“Before I was homeless?”

Georgia nodded.

“I was a high school English teacher.” She cut into her omelet. “I taught other classes as well. I had a social studies class. But English was my thing. I loved it, too.” She took a bite of her food and chewed, thinking.

“It isn’t any of my business.”

Charlie smirked. “I never know how much to share.”

“As much as you need to.”

“My husband was a vet. He came back from Vietnam all sorts of messed up. He had flashbacks. A lot of flashbacks. One morning I went to work, I had a test that day. I came home for lunch, and I knew. I opened the door, and I knew. It was quiet.” Her eyes welled. “Too quiet.”

She wiped the tears with a napkin. “We weren’t, you know, legal. Not allowed.” She rolled her eyes. “I had taken off so many days to be there with him. When he died, I took off one more day. Just one day. And they let me go.”

Georgia rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “I know someone who is looking for a worker at the department store. Someone who knows their makeup.”

Charlie’s eyes popped open. “I can do that.” But she fell back in her seat. “But would they be okay with me?”

Georgia waved a hand and sipped on her coffee. “Oh yes. They’re cool.”

When they walked through the doors of the shelter, Martel stepped from his post. His eyebrows furrowed; his mouth tight. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think they’re going to do it again.”

He nodded but looked at the blood on her shirt. “Clean clothes back there.” He cocked a gentle grin, “better hurry.”

She found a clean blouse and pair of pants. Her fuzzy cheeks were itchy, she was thankful to get the hair off. When she came out of the shower, she saw that a group of women was waiting for their turn in the shower. They chatted about the makeovers they would be getting.

Charlie caught Georgia watching her. The room glowed with exuberant energy.

In the morning, she pulled her clean curls into a loose bun and donned a donated suit. When she finished with her make-up, concealing the wound the best she could with a pale band-aid, she stepped back and saw the person she recognized. Before she walked out of the bathroom, she crossed her fingers and asked the Universe for just a small bit of luck.

Georgia was outside waiting for her, smoking a long, thin cigarette. “Well, look at you. Turn around, come on, let’s see it.”

“Oh please.” She twirled to make her happy.

“You are going to knock their socks off.”

The store was twenty minutes away. Charlie was so nervous she thought she was going to be sick. “Oh, I don’t know if I can do this.” She muttered just outside the office door.

“Yes, you can.” Georgia turned towards her. “Look at me, yes you can.”

A pleasant young woman, who introduced herself as Delia, opened the door and invited her in.

“Georgia says that you have a way of working with people that puts them at ease. She also has noted that you are very good with make-up application.”

Charlie sat back in her seat. “That is generous of her. I enjoy working with people. I love cosmetics.”

“That’s a good start.” Delia leaned forward. “I would like to have you come work for us. We could use someone who has the skills of putting people at ease and knows what they’re doing. The last woman we had in here let a customer walk out looking like a clown.” She shook her head. “It was bad.” She laughed.

Delia assured Charlie that she would be working in a safe environment. Security would escort out anyone who hurt her or harassed out. Charlie would need to go through a two-week training process to familiarize herself with sanitation processes and products. Could she come back in two days and start?

“Absolutely. Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity.”

“Thank you for coming to work for our company.”

Back at the shelter, before Georgia left for the evening, she asked about Delia.

“Oh, she used to come here.”

“She was a volunteer?”

Georgia shook her head. “No, she was homeless. She left home when she was thirteen. Her dad was abusive. I watched her grow up on the streets. When she was seventeen, someone from that same department store gave her a job. She worked her way up, went to night school, got her diploma. Now, she wants to help others.”

Charlie fell asleep that night thinking about her dime. Maybe she would call Nina and tell her the good news. Maybe she would wait until she had been there for a while. Sylvia was the last person she thought of before drifting off.

The next morning, she left the shelter and stayed around town. Any other day, she would walk down to the freeway where she could stand with her sign. It was a busy area. People would stop and give her a nickel or dime. Not on this day. Instead, she walked to the library and spent the day reading. It had been several months since she could sit and do something so simple. When she had enough money, she would get an apartment and buy a bookshelf. She would fill it with her favorite books and fall asleep at night reading.

The next morning, Georgia took her to her new job. “Go get ‘em girl.”

Delia introduced her to Rosetta, who would train her. “You’ll be on your feet all day long. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

A young girl came up to the counter with her mother and pointed out a lipstick she thought would look pretty on her mother. Rosetta asked Charlie to watch as she helped the customer. The woman looked at Charlie and scoffed. “I’m looking for eyeliner.” She was going to walk away from the counter.

“We have a lovely liquid liner that just came out,” Charlie interjected. “It’s priced just right and so easy to apply.”

Rosetta took the sale but gave credit to Charlie for assisting. For a first day, she was impressed.

Charlie didn’t need two weeks to learn the ropes. By the end of the first week, she was managing well with customers and ringing sales. Rosetta stayed close at hand but had confidence in Charlie’s skills.

At the end of her first week, Delia called Charlie into her office for a private meeting.

“I am excited to be the one to give this to you.” She extended an envelope to her.

Charlie trembled as she opened the envelope. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

It took one month for her to save for an apartment. It took another month to save for simple furnishings.

On the 80th Thursday after walking away from her house, she moved into her new apartment. Georgia and Martel surprised her with a housewarming gift at her new place.

“Wait right here. Close your eyes while we bring it in.”

Charlie sat on her small couch.

“Got your eyes closed?” Martel hollered from outside the door.

“Yes, Martel.”

“Okay, open.”

She opened her eyes and saw a perfectly empty bookcase.

“We hope you like it,” Martel said.

“I love it. It’s exactly what I’ve waited for.”