Breaking Faith by E. Graziani

Author:E. Graziani
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Second Story Press
Published: 2017-02-22T18:47:52+00:00

Chapter 18

I convince myself that my gut feeling was right—I’ll try to build a life here, away from who I was in Greenleigh. I’m going to look for a place and find a job, and when I make something of myself, I’m going back to prove to everyone that I’m not a loser from the DC, but a woman who made it on her own, without help from her rich grandmother.

Thrift stores are great for cheap necessities, so I buy a backpack, warm sweaters, and sweatpants. Then I go to a dollar store for a toothbrush, toothpaste, spare undies and soap. I spend only forty bucks, which leaves quite a bit for food, for a little while at least. Living on the street the first few days isn’t horrible, because I have things to do, but after awhile, the monotony of surviving becomes boring. Plus, the janitors at the university are on to me, so I have to clear out and find another place to sleep.

Obviously, winter is a harsh time for homeless people, because with the cold, you’re dealing with the possibility of hypothermia, frostbite, and freezing to death. A street kid I talk to suggests a youth shelter on Sanger Street, just off Yonge. But he warns me that when it’s this cold, they fill up fast and some have to make do outside. That’s a frightening thought. I picture some random person finding me, a human Popsicle, in the morning. The shelter is where I head—so far, so good. One week on the street. I’m still not in trouble and I’m still alive.

...

“All residents must follow some basic rules and live up to certain expectations,” says the lady at the desk. I’ve already registered with my name and fake date of birth at the intake desk. Now I’m trying to concentrate on the rules and expectations as this woman rambles on. “While at Sanger Street Shelter, or Triple-S House, this includes being respectful to others, keeping your bed space clean, and looking for work and housing. If you have other responsibilities—for example, attending school or performing community service hours—then we can assist you with that. Does that apply to you?”

“Uh, no.” She blinks at me looking like she’s assessing my sincerity. “I just need a place to stay for a while, until I find a job and an apartment.”

“Okay. What’s your name again?”

“Norma.”

“Norma. You’re lucky you got a bed tonight—it’s cold out there.” She sticks out her hand and I shake it. “My name’s Katherine. I’m a counselor here. If you’re ready, I’ll take you to your bed.” As she leads me up the stairs, a variety of noises comes from inside the other rooms. She raps on one door and says, “Keep it down in there—remember the rules.”

Then she turns to me. “Breakfast is served at seven, continental style. We have bread, buns, juice, fruit, and cereals. A bag lunch is provided to all who sign up for one—sometimes a hot lunch is provided, but that depends on availability of staff.

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