Shelter

“Everything good, Mrs. Haversmith?”

“Fine and dandy, Mr. Connors,” Mrs. Haversmith answered as she looked over the paperwork she was sorting through.

“Mrs. Haversmith,” he let out an exasperated sigh and dropped his shoulders.

She chuckled and looked up at Nolan over her reading glasses, which stopped him from repeating his usual “please just call me Nolan” or “Mr. Connors is my father” or any other number of expressions of his discomfort of the “Mr. Connors” title.

Nolan shook his head and managed his own chuckle.

If it weren’t for her gray hair, Mrs. Haversmith would have been mistaken for a much younger woman than she actually was. She was, in fact, some forty years Nolan’s senior, and easily managed to have more humor, energy, enthusiasm, and joy than Nolan.

“Alright, well, I’m going to step outside for a bit then,” Nolan said. “I’ll swing back through before we lock everything down.”

“Nolan,” Mrs. Haversmith said, her voice taking a firm, but kindly tone. “You really need to stop being so hard on yourself. All we can do is our best, and let God do the rest.”

Nolan looked at the ground and nodded as he considered her words. He looked back up at Mrs. Haversmith, and gave her a sad half-smile in thanks before walking down the hall and outside.

He made his way across the hexagonal pavers, and their variety of stony grays, to the curb of 12th Avenue. Nolan then fished out the pack of cigarettes that he had been carrying in his pocket for the past seven months. He stared at the dromedary on the box for a moment, imagined what it would be like to just disappear into the wilderness, then flipped open the box. He retrieved one of the remaining eighteen cigarettes, though not the one he had flipped upside down, and swapped out the reclosed pack for his lighter.

Three spins of the spark wheel later, the taste and smoke of mildly stale Turkish and Virginia tobaccos filled his lungs.

The city was quiet and empty, which felt unusual, even for a Sunday night.

Nolan looked at the church in all its Neo-Gothic glory.

The church stood on its own square in the middle of the city, and had main entries facing the cardinal directions. It wasn’t nearly as massive as most city churches from the same era, and its congregation wasn’t even close to as large as those other churches either.

As much as he did not want them to, events from that morning began to replay in his head.

The defect, as Nolan had labeled it, in his mind caused him to relive the moment as if it was happening right then and now.

His mother making passive aggressive comments to her little group of women, just loud enough to be intentionally overheard, about a young woman that had been speaking with his father.

The woman, justifiably, upset at being disparaged in such a manner, overly defending Mr. Connors and reminding their little group that he was a successful in his business because of his natural ability to “shmooze” and of course that charisma would always be on and radiating out.

Nolan’s father, of course, was completely ignoring the surrounding issues while he charmed and spoke with eclectic group around him.

Nolan had tried to temper the young woman’s over defense of his father by reminding her that her assessment, while accurate, also meant that his father always had ulterior motives, though not necessarily leading to the impropriety his mother had been implying.

Nolan’s words, as usual, fell on deaf ears as the young woman actively ignored what he had tried to meekly inform her.

Nolan deftly flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette before he rubbed his forehead.

He had never been able to shake the feeling of being an outsider, even within his own supposed community. Even the praise he had received for his “fabulous” idea of utilizing all the unused space in the back of church as a women’s and children’s shelter at night had been poured out like how a pet owner encourages a puppy after it pisses in the yard.

And, after all the “good boy” pats on the back, no one, save Mrs. Haversmith, lifted a finger to actually help the shelter idea move forward.

Thankfully, certain members of the surrounding community had taken it upon themselves to donate and hold various drives to help sustain the shelter, and Officer Winters had taken it upon himself to alter his nightly patrol to ensure he was in relative close proximity to the shelter at all times.

Nolan took the last drag off the cigarette, sighed, and glanced to his right.

He furrowed his brow in confusion as to what he saw several feet away on the ground.

A roughly twelve inch in diameter, and several inches tall, droplet of something had coagulated.

Honey? Nolan thought. No. It’s thicker and darker than that. Sap maybe?

He briefly looked for something to stick into it, as he was not about to touch it with his hand, or get it on his shoe.

His search was cut short when he saw a mass in the shape of a haystack of the same substance moving toward the back entrance of the church.

It moved slowly, yet was flared out in the back like billowing flames, and had already reached the three steps that led up to the shelter door.

Nolan dropped the cigarette butt and sprinted to the side door and back into the hall.

His pounding, panicked stride got him to the now open back entrance.

Nolan looked down at the strange man that had now hesitated on the second step.

The man was dressed plainly and appeared to be covered in sweat, though it was a cool, dry night.

“Nolan?” Mrs. Haversmith popped into the hall, the very picture of concern.

“Call Winters,” Nolan stated and waved Haversmith back without taking his eyes off the man.

Mrs. Haversmith nodded and went to track down the officer.

“You need to leave,” Nolan mustered every ounce of authority he could. “Now.”

“Isn’t this a shelter?” the man said with a condescending sneer.

“Not for men,” Nolan pushed back.

“But I need a place to stay,” the man mockingly whined. “And I’m oh so hungry.”

“Go away,” Nolan emphasized each syllable.

The man sniffed several times, then cocked his head like a vulture.

“You know I came here expecting a little snack,” he said. “But consuming you would keep me full for a year.”

“What?”

The question came out in a confused exhale.

“What’s going on?”

Officer Winters gave Nolan a nod and stepped between him and the man.

“This guy won’t leave,” Nolan answered.

“You heard the man,” Winters said. “Time to go.”

The strange man remained in the half way stepping position he had stopped in and just grinned a little wider.

“Last chance, buddy,” Winters warned. “Alright. Let’s go.” Winters took hold of the man, turned him around, and cuffed him without resistance.

~~~

Nolan returned home from his evening walk.

It had been about a month since the incident at the shelter and, thankfully, the man had not been seen around there since.

The man had been trespassed, held over night, and then released the next day.

“Only so much we can do, unfortunately,” Winters said after informing Nolan about the outcome. “But I’ll try and have extra eyes on the shelter for a while.”

Nolan had thanked him and assured him that he understood the situation.

As Nolan raised the key to his front door, he noticed droplets of sap on the threshold.

With a sigh of determination, he brandished the sharpened iron knife he had taken to carrying.

Regardless of the outcome, he would keep the shelter safe.