Perception

Chapter One

Chapter One 

I'm just working here till a good fast-food job opens up.

Unknown

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   Lightning flashed as sheets of rain and hail crashed against the dilapidated roof of the Salvation Army homeless shelter. Fine powdery puffs of ceiling plaster sprinkled down every now and then along with the countless drops of rainwater. Silently I prayed that no asbestos had been used during construction. Grabbing an oversized lid, I quickly slid it into place over the pot of tomato soup simmering on the ancient stovetop while simultaneously sliding a smaller pot under the newest leak.

    Lieutenant Kennan pushed through the door, his mouth twisted up into that condescending sneer he seemed to reserve just for me.

    He circled around the water filled pots on the floor before pointedly turning his back to me while he tasted the soup.

  "Needs salt," he decreed.

   Grabbing the dirty wooden spoon off the counter, I sharply rapped his knuckles as his hand blindly searched for more salt. Yelping, he spun around to face me with his hand cradled against his chest, his fingers flexing.

   "If you want salt you can add it yourself when you’re about to eat it. Till then, I’m on strict orders from Captain Granger to keep the sodium levels low." I waved the spoon at him when he started to reach for it again.

    The swinging doors hissed shut as the elderly minister walked in.

   "That delinquent just attacked me!" Kennan squealed, pointing a quivering finger at me. I smiled, showing all my teeth before snapping them. He jumped back and almost landed in the soup.

      Folding my arms defensively, I leaned back against the counter only to spring back up again as a puddle from yet another leak met the back of my pants.

 "He was trying to add more salt," I defended. Twisting around, I grabbed some paper towels and began to dab at my butt.

  Captain Granger only shook his head as he walked over to taste the soup for himself.

  "She's right Kennan. This is fine the way it is. You have to remember that some of these people have health problems. Salt can always be added later."

   Childishly, I stuck out my tongue in triumph before sobering. "I should get time-and-a-half off my community service working in this death trap. When was the last time you had the roof checked? Hell, I’ve squatted in safer places then this dump.“

     "I’ve told you before there is nothing wrong with this place that a coat of paint and a little faith won’t fix." Captain Granger sighed, looking at the cracked and bubbling roof.

     “Well, good luck with that, Father,” I said as I emptied one of the full containers. “Me? I’d be wanting a second opinion.”

   Kennan muttered something to himself under his breath but I couldn’t be bothered enough to listen.  

     "Time to serve this up; the crowd is getting hungry," Granger commented as he turned back to the door.

***

   The crowd was larger then usual that night, well over maximum capacity, but the Captain didn't have the heart to send them away in such horrible weather. We were just beginning to scrape the bottom of the saucepan when he came wandering in.

   From a distance there was nothing outwardly special about him. Tall, well muscled and young, he looked like he would do all right in a fight. Years on the streets had taught me how to sum up a person at a glance.

   His jeans looked ragged with holes no designer had added to them while the pocket of his orange flannel shirt was ripped and hung loose.  As he got closer I could see the droplets of water that clung to his spiky black hair and scruffy beard. While the downpour might have washed away some of the dirt, it had done nothing for the smell.

     Grabbing one of the few remaining clean bowls, he held it out to me patiently while keeping his eye downcast.

   “There you are,” I said and faked the smile Granger wanted everyone to wear.

   He looked up then, his eyes the deep calming blue of a pristine lake, and smiled a quick one-sided smile before thanking me in a deep, soothing voice. Taking a piece of bread from the basket to the side, he turned and scanned the crowded room for some space. Giving up, he went to sit against a wall not far from me and began to eat his food.

    After serving out the last of the bread and rolls, I grab a towel and start cleaning down the counter top.

  During a lull in the storm I heard a crackly voice ask, "So what's your name stranger?"

    Turning, I saw one of our regulars squatting down next to the blue-eyed man. Not letting the lack of response stop him, he continued. "My name’s Jon. Pleased to meet ya.”

   Jon stretched one bony arm out and left it hanging until the man reluctantly shook it. "Immanuel."

   Both looked up when my shadow fell over them. “Jon, give it back. You know what the Captain said would happen next time he caught you stealing.”

   Ignoring Immanuel’s puzzled expression, I stared straight at Jon with my hand outstretched. The wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead deepened as he flashed me a mostly toothless grin; he looked the picture of befuddled innocence but I knew better.

   That engaging old codger could strip a person of all they owned in the blink of an eye and they wouldn’t even realize anything was missing until they felt the breeze on their naked ass as they walked away. In truth I was kind of envious; if I had half his skill I wouldn’t be stuck here working off my two hundred hours.

   Raising an eyebrow I stared him down till I saw his wrinkles smooth and his smile drop. Reaching into a trench coat pocket, he withdrew a crumpled five-dollar note, a spork, two uneaten lint covered mints and a tattered old book.

    Crossing my arms, I shifted my weight to the other leg as my stare turned icy.

   “Damn hypocritical of you girlie,” he muttered as he pulled out a silver cross on a leather thong from a different pocket.

   “Is that all?” I wondered, making my voice hard as I tried to disguise the laughter.

   Squinting up at me he asked, “Yeah. You gonna tell on me girlie?”

   “You gonna learn your lesson?” I countered.

    Immanuel’s deep voice broke the staring match. "If you wanted them so much why didn’t you just ask?"

    Confused, Jon looked to me for clarification but all I could do was shrug. Turning back to Immanuel he responded, “Cause ya woulda said no.”

    “How do you know if you didn’t ask?” Laying out the objects in front of him, he waved his hand over the pile. “Take what you want.”

    Jon hesitated before stretching out his bony hand and then pulling it back, twice. “That’s alright, I don’t want anything.”

     “Then it wasn’t worth stealing in the first place.” Smiling, he picked up one of the mints, removed the lint, then plopped it in his mouth.

     The lights flickered and went out seconds before the sounds of protesting wood, shattering glass and screams filled the air.