Better Not Love Me (21 page)

Chapter 41

The Annex
Spokane

Marcus wiped the plastic tray clean from the remnants of dinner. Luke warm carrots and bits of mashed potatoes were all that was left to dump into the garbage can inside the kitchen of the Annex. He stacked the tray on top of a dozen other dirty trays on the stainless steel countertop and wiped the sweat from his forehead, unintentionally smearing a glob of gravy across his face.

Its unglamorous work, no doubt about it. He ripped a paper towel from the holder under the cabinet and cleaned off the gravy before turning on the water. He waited for it to get hot, squirted some liquid dish soap on the top tray and began to wash them. Marcus hated working in the kitchen. The smells of twice-baked food all around and the nauseating scent of industrial bleach permeated every corner of the place. His hands shriveled up like prunes from the water and his appetite abandoned him.

But the residents of the Annex enjoyed the food. At least that's what the cook told him. What else would she say, that they hated the food, but came for the atmosphere? Not likely. They ate what was served and didn’t complain because they didn't have a choice. Marcus did have a choice, but not about the food. He chose to volunteer at the Annex. To make a difference. And to see the quiet girl, Denny.

Ever since he met the girl months ago when he helped with the nursery remodel, he couldn't get her out of his mind. Everything she owned was in a duffle bag at the foot of her bed inside the Annex. She'd lived there with her mom and stepdad going on four months. Denny stayed true to form. She didn't talk about her past much, but after asking around and piecing together Denny's brief comments, he'd managed to get a rough idea of why the family lived in the shelter.

Denny's mom was an addict, albeit a recovering one. The shelter gave their residents random drug screening tests to encourage them to stay away from any kind of drugs. A failed test meant you were asked to leave. Her mom wasn't in any place to hold down a job and support her daughter, so they relied on Denny's stepdad, Logan. Logan lost his job, and as Marcus repeatedly heard from other residents, one thing led to another and they became homeless.  They were forced to live in Logan's pickup truck and the fiberglass camper on the bed. The Annex was an upgrade versus sleeping next to Logan's empty beer cans, for sure.

The Annex didn't test for alcohol consumption, otherwise Logan would have been asked to leave. He was a large, brooding man who wore shirts with no sleeves even on cool autumn days. Upon first meeting him, Logan was quick to show people his dancing lady tattoo. He'd flex his bicep and jiggle the hula girl on his left arm. Marcus had seen it several times and tried to act impressed at each occurrence. Logan was gregarious and handsy. He liked to put his arm around people when he talked to them, or maybe it was just that he needed the support to steady himself. Marcus couldn't be sure.

Marcus arranged the trays on a drying rack so he could begin soaking the large pots and cooking utensils. He'd learned early on that these old cooking implements needed a good soaking or he'd be scrubbing them all night long. And he had his mind on other things. Like spending some more time with Denny.

He watched out the window of the kitchen as Denny's mom animatedly waved her hands around while she told a story of some kind. Denny listened in silence, occasionally nodding her head. Logan just stuffed his face with Salisbury steak. The cafeteria was nearly empty.

Marcus again thought about Denny's duffle bag and what little was inside it. She'd shown him one night. Marcus wasn't supposed to be in the single room Denny's family shared, but Pastor Isakson had given him a little more leeway and access because he was putting in so many volunteer hours. Inside the bag were a few changes of clothes, a purple hoodie, a teddy bear and her Bible. The purple hoodie was on a regular rotation with a gray one. The hoodies were always zipped up tight. No skin showing whatsoever. She was always covered up. Maybe she was cold or maybe she just liked wearing them. He never asked.

Protruding from Denny's Bible were hundreds of little sticky flags in neon colors where Denny had flagged passages that spoke to her. She'd talk about them sometimes. Marcus was no Bible scholar, but it was some of the few times that Denny would talk, so he wasn't about to tell her to stop.

He wanted to give her things, like an iPod or a new pair of sneakers to replace her worn-out Converse high-tops. But he didn't want to seem like he was giving her charity, like he felt bad for her or something. So he didn’t give her anything. He did plan on asking her to the movies though. There was a new movie out, based on a science fiction book that Denny had mentioned about people who lived in a bunker silo underground after the earth's surface became uninhabitable. He thought that, even if she didn’t want to go with him, she'd want to see the movie and accept his invitation. He just hadn't gathered up the courage to ask yet. He didn't have a great deal of confidence around girls, especially ones he liked.

Denny's mom had ceased talking, passing that task to Logan who was loudly complaining about how "kids these days wear long shorts that look like high-water pants." Apparently this was rather bothersome, because he went on about it for quite some time. Marcus listened, not because he was interested, but because he couldn't help it. The man was so loud.

From across the cafeteria, Denny glanced up at Marcus and that was all the invitation he needed. He walked over to the table when the conversation was at a lull.

"How are you all doing tonight?" Marcus asked. "Dinner tonight was pretty good, huh?"

He didn't think this was true, but it just came out.

"We're not done yet, thanks," Logan barked at Marcus. His mouth was full of food.

Marcus was taken aback at the comment.

"Mom, can I be excused?" Denny asked. Her seldom-used voice was sweet. She even dared a slight smile.

"I said we ain't done yet," Logan growled.

Denny looked down again, the hopeful look in her eyes gone in an instant.

"Logan, I think that—" Her mother began to say.

"Did I ask what you thought?" There was a fire in Logan's words.

Denny's mother took on the same downtrodden demeanor as her daughter as she just stared at the table.

Denny brushed her hand through her hair and pulled up the sleeve on the left arm of her gray hoodie. Marcus didn’t have to look hard to see a black and blue bruise encircling her wrist and forearm. Marcus wasn't sure if the act was intentional, but what followed confirmed that it was. Logan quickly reached across the table and grasped at the sleeve of the hoodie, pulling it down toward her hand. The movement was so unnatural and out of place that Marcus was shocked at what he saw.

While he reached across the table, Logan's stomach bumped his tray of food and his remaining Salisbury steak was sent flipping to the ground, splattering on the floor and wall. Denny pulled her arm back, but Logan clamped his hand down over the bruise and squeezed.

"What did I tell you, girl?" He began to stand up from the table.

The whole thing seemed to be moving in slow motion for Marcus, who was standing at the edge of the table, within reaching distance of both of them.

On instinct, Marcus grabbed onto the wrist of Logan's outstretched arm and twisted it toward him. The wrist grab didn't release Denny's arm. In the same motion Marcus released his grip on Logan's wrist and turned his body toward the larger man, then slammed his flat palm into his chest. The palm strike sent Logan backwards to the floor. His feet got caught up in the legs of the table, but Logan managed to right himself very quickly and stood, his arms at his sides, fists clenched.

"Run, Marcus!" Denny shouted.

But Marcus didn't run. He stood his ground. He'd learned a few things over the last few years about intimidation and fear. You'll get pummeled if you're scared and you can't win if you're seeing red. Logan was seeing red. He was embarrassed and in the wrong. Marcus held the high ground. He was defending his friend from a beast.

Marcus raised himself onto the balls of his feet and took a defensive fighting stance, slowly backing away from the older, larger man. This drew Logan away from Denny, which was Marcus' intent. Protect the girl.

Logan charged like a bull, his right hand trailing behind him in a fist. He wound up for a swing that would have likely knocked Marcus out cold. But as Logan threw his weight onto his forward foot, Marcus pulled back and swiveled aside letting Logan's momentum propel the oaf right past him. The man's overconfidence in his right cross was his downfall. Marcus simply shoved him in the back and gravity did the rest. Logan stumbled and hit his head on a cafeteria bench. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. The whole thing probably lasted all of eight seconds, but to Marcus, it seemed much longer.

"Gentlemen!" a powerful voice shouted from the opposite side of the room. "That's enough!"

Marcus turned to see Pastor Isakson. The Pastor shook his head and pointed toward the exit. His face was a mix of disappointment and disgust. Marcus was immediately sick to his stomach. He took a deep breath, but decided not to try and explain himself. Not with his history of fighting. Who would believe him? He simply nodded and walked out the door.

Chapter 42

Marcus burst through the thick metal exit doors and out into the cold rain of the night. Second-hand cigarette smoke filled his nostrils from the smokers congregated under the door's small awning.

Why does this keep happening? It was so fast. I couldn't think.

He kept walking in a straight line through the middle of the parking lot. The rain bounced off puddles around him. He didn't care.

That look on Pastor Isakson's face.

It was something he never wanted to see again.

He couldn't believe it. He couldn’t think straight. He finally had something that he enjoyed. He was helping people. Volunteering. Nobody told him he needed to do it. He just did it because it was the right thing to do. He owed the world something and maybe by mopping the floors and cleaning up terrible dinners for people in need, he was somehow paying the world back. It wasn't enough. He knew that. But he had to start someplace. One step at a time. He had to redeem himself. Be a better person. So why did bad things have to happen?

He couldn’t get Pastor Isakson's face out of his mind. The one man he truly respected. He must think of him as a thug. It made him angry. Angry at himself.

He stopped walking when he reached the end of the parking lot that overlooked several commercial buildings nearby. He saw the flat white rooftops reflected in the security lights in the driving rain. The center of the rooftop held a large thin pool of water being hit by the rain. He squinted and it looked like ice, easily broken and unsafe.

He felt something strong in the pit of his stomach. He bent over at the waist and threw up his dinner on the ground below.

That pool of water looked just like Rocktop Lake.

* * *

"Hey," came the call from close behind him.

It was Pastor Isakson.

Marcus wiped his chin and stepped in front of the vomit on the wet pavement to block the Pastor's view. It was stupid. He'd obviously seen him doubled over, but he didn't want to advertise it.

The pastor, in a silver rain coat, just stood there looking at Marcus. It was dark and the pastor was backlit from the building. Marcus couldn't make out his expression. He couldn't anticipate what was coming next. A lifetime ban from the Annex? Mandatory enrollment in anger management classes? A call to his parents? He dreaded that most.

But none of those things were coming. The pastor cleared his throat and began speaking.

"When I was a kid I used to collect golf balls at one of the public courses by my apartment," he said. "They'd pay me five cents for every ball I'd find. They would use them as range balls or turn around and sell them to the bad golfers who needed to carry some cheap extras in their bag just in case. I used the money to buy baseball cards. You know the kind that come with a stale stick of gum?"

Marcus nodded, wondering what this story had to do with what just happened.

"There was this pack of cards that I wanted to buy and it cost $1.30. I was trying to collect the whole series of cards and I thought if I could buy two more packs that I would be able to complete the series. It was a long shot, but I was 12-years-old. What did I know? I had earned about half as much as I needed one Saturday morning and I thought if I worked really hard I could find enough golf balls, and get paid my mere five cents apiece, to ride my bike to the card shop and purchase those two packs of cards."

"OK," Marcus said.

"Don't worry, there's a point here," the Pastor said. "I dug under every shrub, rock and tall blade of grass and collected golf balls like crazy. But in my haste I wandered a little too close to an active game of golf and grabbed a ball that was still in play. Granted, it was way in the rough and there was nobody else around. I picked it up, tossed it in my bucket and moved on. I was just about to enter the pro shop and collect my reward money when a golf cart came screaming down the path and cut me off. Two men got out and started yelling at me.
‘That's the kid,’
one of the men said.
‘He's the one who stole my ball.’
Now remember, I was standing there with a bucket full of golf balls, so I couldn't very well deny it, but this one fellow was in a fit of rage. He knocked the bucket out of my hand, spilling the balls all over the path and grass. He pushed me up against the wall of the pro shop and shoved his forearm into my neck. I could barely breathe and I tried to pry his arm off me but it didn't matter. He was twice my size and full of anger."

"What did you do?" Marcus asked.

"There was nothing I could do. That's the point. He had me pinned and I'm not sure what would have happened if the guy's buddy hadn't panicked and pulled him off of me. The other guy picked up one of the balls from the ground and said,
'Jesus, Bill, he's just a kid
.
Take this and be done with it.'
  He did. They got into their cart and drove off. I never saw them again. I didn't pick up the golf balls. I was so frightened that it might happen again that I left and I never went back."

"But it was an accident," Marcus said. "You didn’t do anything wrong."

"You don't have to do something wrong to get bullied," Pastor Isakson said. "Tell me. Why did you shove Logan?"

"Because he was hurting Denny's arm," he replied.

"Why did you push him into the bench?"

"Because he charged me. I just stepped out of the way."

"So, did you do anything wrong?" the Pastor asked.

Marcus paused for a moment before answering, not sure what the right answer was.

"I get in trouble for fighting a lot."

"I know, I've talked with your parent's about it. They asked me to watch you. And I watched you tonight. You defended your friend from a bully. That's not fighting. Logan was one incident away from being kicked out of the Annex already and this put him over the top."

"I think he's hurting Denny and maybe her mom too."

"I suspect the same. They never gave me any reason to think that until tonight, but it's pretty clear that's the case. I saw the bruises on her arms."

"That must be why she's always covered up with that hoodie," Marcus said. "Can you protect them?"

"Yes, if they want help. We'll do our best. Mrs. Isakson is talking with them now. We'll see what they'd like to do. When she's done you can go back and see Denny."

Marcus nodded a thank you.

"I thought you were going to banish me from this place."

"Not even close," Pastor Isakson said. "The world needs more people like you, who look out for others and help them when they are in need. You did a good thing Marcus. You were a man tonight. I'm proud of you."

Pastor Isakson pulled Marcus in and embraced him.

"Now, let's get you out of this blasted rain."