Chapter 2
(male model Ed Marquezini as my idea of what Timothy looks like---------->)
After splashing water on my face, I picked up my toothbrush and squeezed the Colgate gel onto the bristles of the brush and quickly brushed my teeth. I was running kind of late this morning. I didn’t have any classes today and I wanted to get my Christmas collection pot started for the orphanage as soon as possible. I still had to catch the bus across town and get a good spot in front of Macy’s well enough away from the Salvation Army collectors in order not to ruffle any feathers with my own fund gathering attempts. I should have started working the sidewalks on Black Friday in order to catch all those people willing to spend money on all the sales, and hoping their generosity spilled over to the less fortunate by dropping their loose change in my bucket. But I had to finish my mock up advertisement for my graphic design course for my grade before the semester broke for winter break.
I snatched the towel off the bar and dried the moisture from my skin and looked at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I ran my hand over my jaw, I rarely needed to shave since any hair I grew on my face was fine and blonde anyway. I brushed my long blonde hair out of my face and tied it back into a ponytail and looked at my eyes. They were crystalline green, so pale they seemed almost translucent. People said that they were my most amazing feature, and since my eyes tended to take up a majority of my face, I hues they were right. I stood at only five feet eight inches tall and I was extremely slender, due to lack of food more than anything else, so I knew it wasn’t my physique that struck people on first glance in my direction.
I had no clue if I got my features from my father or my mother since I was left barely a day old when I was left on the orphanage steps. The same place that I tried to collect money for and the other abandoned kids every year since I turned eighteen, and I was literally pushed out of the system with a two hundred and fifty dollar check and a voucher section eight housing that helped me pay for my dingy little efficiency apartment.
Now, twenty years old and working part time as a dishwasher at Milano’s Bistro downtown along with my student loans, I was able to pursue my education and degree in computer graphic design. Hopefully once I obtained my degree things will look up for me. But I was thankful that I had a roof over my head, a few cans of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup in the pantry, along with a loaf of bread and water in the fridge. I was more than grateful for that, it could be way worse.
I ruffled my hair and trotted over to my meager closet and pulled out my heavy jeans, underwear, socks, and my second hand sweatshirt. I was glad for Mrs. Russell at the orphanage; she still helped me get clothes from the local thrift store. She knew the days where she could go and select the better options from the stuff people wanted to get rid of. Most times since I was so small, the clothes tended to be too big for me, but that was another thing I refused to complain about. They kept me warm; especially when the heating in my apartment decided to act up or just plain didn’t not to work at all. It can get pretty cold in there during the winter months, and the tiny space was positively sweltering in the summer.
Spinning around, I checked to make sure that I had everything that I needed, house key, wallet, and my pay as you go cell phone. I grabbed my little collection bucket with its lid and rushed out the front door, remembering to lock it before stumbling down the three flights of stairs. I stopped and shrugged myself into the too large fleece jacket I got last week. I pulled on my wool gloves and tucked my collection bucket under my arm before I plunged outside onto the busy sidewalk with the pedestrians moving at a fast pace to get where they were going and out of the frigid winds as soon as possible.
When I got to the bus stop and pulled out my metro card and checked my cash level. I had at least enough for a cup of tea or maybe I’ll stop by the Bistro for a cup of Rafael’s soup of the day since I was low on cash and a week away from payday. The head chef tended to feed me for free and I appreciated it, but didn’t make a habit of it or abuse his generosity too often. Crackers and chicken bouillon broth worked just as well too. But today it seemed that I had no choice. Once I boarded onto the lumbering bus, I was squished between a woman with her multiple tote bags and another elderly man. I made up my mind to stop at the restaurant where I worked as my first task of the afternoon and get something in my stomach and a mug of tea so I didn’t freeze myself to death while I was begging the good people of this city for their money.
The twenty minute ride did nothing to keep the warm air inside the bus, it felt like a meat locker inside the metal contraption. It was only reasonable I guess, seeing that the driver was only doing his job as he stopped every five minutes to let a multitude of people on or off the rumbling vehicle. And I was more than happy to see my destination coming up as the next stop. I stood up and prepared myself by holding onto the overhead bar for the sometimes forward jerking action as the bus barely rolled to a stop for the designated two minutes you had to jump on or off the mass transit. The bus stopped right in front of the Magnate Building, an impressive concrete structure twenty-five or so stories tall with its gleaming windows shining in the mid afternoon sunlight.
It never ceased to amaze me that even when the sun was shining; it was still so flipping cold on the street level. It was most likely due to the fact that with all the narrow buildings clustered so closely together, the street acted like a wind tunnel for the cold air. The wind was a little crisper than usual today and I should have listened to the news to see if we were expecting snow anytime soon. I should have brought my other waterproof blazer with me just in case, but I just shrugged my shoulders, what is done is done.
I pulled my woolen cap a little lower over my ears and walked over to the crosswalk, at this time of day, a person would seriously have to place their own lives in their own hands if they attempted to jaywalk across the busy streets. The cab drivers alone should be outlawed with the way the blatantly refused to follow even the simplest of traffic laws. The light turned green and he little man appeared on the crosswalk sign to indicate it was safe now to cross the road. I jogged along and kept up the masses of people as the crowd surged forward across the painted crosswalk. I had learned to keep up a long time ago, like I said, I didn’t have the sturdiest of bodies out there. And if I wasn’t paying attention, I was likely to get knocked over and trampled without someone so much as taking the time to look back to see if I was dead or alive. Ah…Living life in the big city, you gotta love it.
Making it safely to the other side of the street, I turned right and headed for the Bistro, I came up to the delivery alley and I checked out the area before venturing down the narrow pathway. I always entered through the back entrance so that I didn’t have to trudge through the dining room. But this was the city and one couldn’t be too careful when going down a deserted alley. I got to the door pulled out my wallet to get my employee badge, a card we used to get inside back door by swiping the security scanner, and I quickly zipped inside and welcomed the warmth and the scents rich tomato sauce and roasted garlic of the super busy kitchen.
Tucking the collection pot under my arm, I used my teeth to pull of my gloves and advanced my way into the kitchen making sure to stay well away from the prep areas. Rafael would have a conniption if I tainted his food. The big burley chef’s voice boomed out above the clanking of pots and chopping of vegetables as he barked orders out to the understudies while stirring a massive pot of soup on the burner in front of him. He turned around and caught sight of me standing off to the side of the kitchen trying to be as unobtrusive as I possibly can.
“Ah…Ciao Timmy, you are not scheduled to work today, little one.” His deep baritone boomed and I shook my head to answer him wishing I had left my hair down to hide my flushed cheeks.
“Um…No…I just stopped by to pick up a cup of soup and some tea to go.” I managed to mumble out the explanation. Conversing with people was usually hard for me. That’s why I loved to hide behind my computer screen as much as possible. I didn’t have to deal with people so much. I was shy by nature, and given the fact that I spent most of my time keeping my head down and staying out of mind and out of sight to survive all my life, it was a given that I was really awkward when it came to my social skills. I only talked to Mrs. Russell who practically raised me in the orphanage, my professors at school when necessary, and Rafael most times because he gave me no other choice.
It was a challenge for me to go out into the holiday rush and try to collect money so the kids can have something new for Christmas. But I was determined for the children sake to have something for them to look forward to during a time when everyone else was privileged to have shiny pretty gifts and warm happy families at home. When I was one of those group home kids, I used to dream year after year that some nice couple would come and adopt me. I would watch all the Christmas specials on the little TV in the recreation room and wonder what it would be like to wake up on Christmas morning to a huge over decorated tree with a gazillion gifts underneath it waiting for me.
I used to stare wide eyed at all the lights and sparkly things, and I could recite every Christmas carol from memory. And even if it wasn’t much, collecting enough to buy a small tree and have the kids decorate it with their home made decorations was enough for me. I even tried to get the twenty or so kids gifts, even it was the dollar store variety and I would lovely wrap each and every one of them so that they had the opportunity to rip something open on Christmas morning. I would do this just to see the joy on their faces even if I had to go without food in order to do it. The painful reminder of not being adopted and living on state allocated funds was enough drive for me to get over my fear of crowds and people to try to do something for the children that are now in the same boat that I used to be in.
“Well, little one, you have some to right place. I just finished my world famous minestrone, and I got gallons of beverages you can choose from.” Rafael barked and snapped me out of my thoughts as he hustled me towards the take out section. And despite my protests, he prepared one the largest container of soup he could find and a huge thermos of his vanilla bean tea for me. Everyone here was aware that I collected for the orphanage on my spare time every year and sometimes they were generous enough to bring in toys or donated their tips. It was really great of them, and I usually had to have the kids make them thank you cards to show their appreciation, which Rafael proudly displayed in the peg board in the hallway.
“Now, it is cold outside yeah, don’t stay out too long, and if it gets colder I expect you to come back inside and warm up, yes!” The robust chef and owner demanded and I nodded my head to answer him before he gave me a slap on the back that nearly knocked me off my feet and sent me on my way. I just shook my head and stuffed the thermos in the pocket of my coat. I trudged back through the kitchen and took a seat on the little bench right beside the door to enjoy some of the soup before going back out into the cold, the rest I would save for later. It was going to be a long day and I hoped it will turn out to be a fruitful one.