Chapter Text
“You think you're qualified for the work here?”
“Yeah.”
“I'm not talking about physical strength, Mr. Katz. What you're going to see won't be pretty, nor will your work be easy. This is not some kind of feel-good project for extra credit or a nice line in your CV. We need you to pull through.”
“I understand that. And I promise I won't let you down.”
The elderly woman who had introduced herself as Agnes flashed him a tiny smile. “Good. It's not like we can be picky anyway, but some dedication doesn't hurt.”
Dave nodded, not sure what to make off the direction the interview had turned into.
Agnes put down her notebook and started to cram through her desk drawer. “I'm curious,” she said without looking up. “Why do you want to volunteer at a homeless shelter?”
“I soldiered in Afghanistan,” Dave admitted silently. “I'm tired of ruining lives and now is my time to start over.”
The woman opposite him huffed a humorless laugh and handed him what he supposed was his contract. “Well, Mr. Katz, let me know if I can be of any assistance in your redemption arc.”
“Please, call me Dave. And it's not redemption.” He mumbled the last bit, but the woman heard him anyway.
“Oh?” Her interest seemed sincere. “What is it then, Dave?”
“Restitution.”
“The left shelf is for the groceries we hand out. Bread and fruit, fresh water, and sometimes, when our sponsors feel especially generous” – the other volunteer winked – “even cookies and those plastic-wrapped cakes that taste like cardboard.”
“Are they generous often?” Dave asked carefully.
“Nope,” came the chirpy reply. “But we get by.”
Dave decided that he liked Lara. She was a short teenage girl with dark, freckled skin and a purple dyed Afro, who knew the shelter like the pockets of her ripped jeans. He'd felt imitated by her no-bullshit attitude at first but had come to appreciate it within the first five minutes of her 'shelter-tour', as she called it.
It turned out that being faced with poverty and tiny storage rooms that were supposed to feed dozens of homeless people was much easier when it was accompanied by witty commentary and dry humor.
“The right shelf,” Lara continued her lecture and slapped her hand against a sealed cardboard box, “holds the supplies for our soup kitchen. We use the canned goods as a basis but try to add whatever is available to stretch the soup and make it more filling.”
Dave raised an eyebrow in question.
“Yep, that was my first reaction too,” she grinned. “I'll show you later. Essentially, we try to use up any groceries we can't hand out because they need to be cooked – potatoes, pasta, rice – and add it to the” - she gestured in quotation marks - “'Soup of the Day'.”
“Sounds fancy,” he commented dryly.
Lara laughed. “You should try my potato-noodle soup one day. It's a winter specialty.”
“Are you aspiring to become a chef or what?”
“Bitch, please. I already am one.” She smiled fondly. “For the people here at least.”
“I bet you are,” Dave said and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He didn't know whether he could stand working side by side with people like Lara, who'd never done anything wrong in their life –
“Hey, stop worrying, soldier.” Of course she knew, who was he kidding? “I don't want to know what you've seen or done and I guess you don't want to tell me. But I came here in first place to do forty hours of community service because I helped setting my teacher's car on fire – no regrets, by the way – and just stayed because it felt like the right thing to do.”
“Your point is?”
“Agnes told us a thing or too, nothing specific, only why you feel like you should be here - again, I don't want to assume or anything - but without excusing or condemning anything, following orders is not the same as premediated murder.” She huffed and winked. "Then again, if your desire for redemption means that you'll help us here, be my guest."
Dave nodded.
Another volunteer, a middle-aged man with a full beard and a tired expression who introduced himself as Hazel, arrived at 5 pm and helped Dave to open the cans they would be using tonight, while Lara chopped carrots.
Hazel didn't talk much except to complain about his job to Lara, who rolled her eyes but listened attentively anyway. Dave tried to picture that girl setting fire to a car and… found it was surprisingly easy, though he assumed she'd had a reason.
Agnes, the head of the shelter, came in half an hour into their cooking and inspected their results. “I see you're done so far? The beds are ready too. Remind me to get some new sheets soon, some of the ones we have are pretty torn.” She touched Dave's arm. “Can a talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure.” He followed her out and into the dorm, where they sat down next onto the lower bunk of one of the five bunk-beds. It was small room with bare walls but someone, most likely Agnes, had hung up some pictures on the walls to make it more homely. And he had to admit, it was as domestic as a homeless shelter could ever be.
Agnes cleared her throat. “So, this is your first evening and we've all been there. You'll see, you'll adjust quickly. There's just a few things you should know.”
Dave nodded while she spoke, ready to absorb every tiny bit of information. Paying attention to whatever superiors said had been drilled into him often enough after all and old habits died hard.
“There will be about two or three dozen people tonight, all of them get dinner. Lara will show you how to make sure there's enough for everyone. The first ten people to ask for a bed for the night get a bed, but if two of them agree to share one you can let them both in.” Agnes chuckled. “Just make sure they take the lower bunk.” Then something in her expression shifted and she looked a little uncomfortable. “You should know… there will be junkies. And alcoholics, lots of them. Don't meddle with their business but make sure they don't have any drugs on them, otherwise they don't get to sleep here. Most of the drug-addicts won't finish their food, but tell them that it's unfair to waste soup someone else could have eaten.”
“That's guilt-tripping.”
She shrugged. “It's effective.”
He huffed and gave her a mock-salute. “Can do, Ma'am.”
Agnes smiled warmly but her eyes glinted mischievously. “I expect no less of you.” She stood up and laid a hand on his shoulder. “We open at six, go grab a cup of coffee. It's going to be a long night.”
It took less than fifteen minutes for the refectory to fill with thirty people and less than twenty for them to run out of soup. Luckily, Lara had guessed the right portion size well and no one had to stay hungry.
Hazel leaned against to counter to give his aching muscles a break and Dave wanted to take another sip of his black coffee, but found the cup empty and went to the kitchen for a refill, only to run into Lara when he opened the door.
“Are you leaving?” he asked while he poured steaming coffee into his cup.
Lara nodded. “I have school tomorrow.”
“Oh, well… have fun? And don't set fire to cars?” he tried.
Lara grinned. “No promises. See you tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, I'll be here.”
“Great! I have to say bye to Hazel, wouldn't want him to feel left out.” She shuffled back into the refectory and gave Hazel a quick side-hug.
While Dave watched them laugh about an inside joke he didn't understand, his gaze fell onto a thin, pale man, probably about his age, who sat at the table in the corner and seemed to talk to himself. He held a spoon in his shaking hand but didn't seem to have eaten much.
“Bye!” He startled when Lara hugged him and rushed to the door, but his reflexes allowed him to grab her arm before she was out of reach.
“Hey, wait.” He nodded to the man in the corner. “Who's that?”
Lara looked thoughtful. “Oh, that's Klaus. He… he's an addict and… not quite right in the head, don't know whether it's because of the drugs or if that's the reason he turned to them in first place.” She smiled lightly. “Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy on his best days, his sense of style is unmatched and he's quite the storyteller. But his mind is a dark place.” She pulled her arm out of the grasp he hadn't realized he still held her in. “I have to go but try to make sure he finishes that soup, will you?”
“I'll try.”
“Great. Just tell him it's for me.” Lara headed out. “G'night everyone, and behave!”
A choir of farewells and good-night's followed her out of the door, as well as a single loud “No promises!”.
After the laughter had subdued and the room was once again filled with pleasant chatter, Dave made his way over to where Klaus sat and took one of the empty seats, an act which Klaus didn't even seem to register.
“Hello?” asked Dave the other man. “Are you okay?”
Klaus looked up, confusion written all over his face, and tried to focus his gaze on Dave. Then he flashed him his palm, which read “HELLO” in thick, black letters.
Dave felt his eyebrows shoot up. If he didn't like to talk, he was very dedicated to it.
“I'm Dave,” he said and moved his hand across the table. He was a little surprised when it was taken into a cold, trembling one.
“Klaus,” said the other man with a hoarse voice and Dave nodded smilingly, as if he didn't already know that.
The tiniest of smiles tucked at the corners of Klaus' mouth and Dave could see how his dull eyes lit up a little.
They were so beautiful that Dave had to swallow; large and moss-green, framed by long, dark lashes. There was some eyeliner smudged around them as well, but it was hard to tell where the make-up ended and the dark rings under his eyes began. It occured to him that this man was probably high as a kite, something both Agnes and Lara had tried to prepare him for.
The last realization pulled him out of his thoughts and back into the situation at hand. “Well, Klaus. Now that we've met, I need you to finish you plate. You see, it's not fair --”
“Save the guilt-tripping,” Klaus interrupted but he grinned. “I've heard that about a hundred times, it doesn't work anymore.”
“Uh…” Dave was at loss. “Lara… wants you to eat up?” he tried.
Klaus frowned. “Now that's different.” He ate a spoonful of soup.
“Oh, good. She scares you too?” Dave asked.
The other man laughed. “You're scared of her?” He took Dave's sheepish smile as confirmation. “No, I just don't want to disappoint her. She's working her ass off and not appreciating it - that wouldn't be fair, just because I'm not hungry.”
“I don't want to pry but… why are you here then? Not that you shouldn't, just --”
“This is a homeless shelter and I'm homeless. I just need a bed for the night.” He still smiled, but the dullness in his eyes was back and Dave kicked himself mentally for being so tactless.
He tried to save the situation. “We're technically full, but maybe there's someone who wouldn't mind sharing a bunk. You don't… uh…”
“…take up much space? Trust me, I make a horrible bunk partner.” Klaus winked and stood up, holding on to the table with trembling hands to steady himself. “I guess I'll just have try again tomorrow then.”
With no further goodbye but a flash of his other hand - "GOODBYE" - he made his way out of the shelter and into the night, leaving Dave and his almost untouched soup behind.
And Dave felt like the biggest idiot alive.