I was alone for six hours with my thoughts during the train ride. They were a mixed bag of fear and excitement, wariness and hope for a better future. I was taking a giant step toward adulthood and I had no idea what I was doing. But it had to be better than sleeping with a knife under your pillow.
As the train car rocked gently back and forth, the clackety-clack of the wheels on the tracks lulled me into a sense of safety. I had been in pure survival mode for days, and I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. My brother had nearly killed me and had he succeeded, I’m sure my mother would have found a way to blame me for it while standing over my grave.
I knew leaving home was my only option. I should have never gone back in the first place. I didn’t belong there. I would never fit in.
But where did I belong? I had only visited Chicago once before—a day trip with two friends to see a couple of museums. I remembered it being cold and windy. Not exactly homey. But it was a place to start. All I knew for sure was a lot of things needed to fall into place quickly as my meager funds would not last long, and I was determined not to overstay my welcome at Fred’s house. I gave myself a week to find a job and a place to live.
I arrived in downtown Chicago around two in the afternoon. I found an information desk and they directed me to where I could catch the Blue Line subway to O’Hare. Thankfully, the airport was the last stop on the line and I wouldn’t have to pay too much attention to all the names of all the stops in between.
The subway was very interesting. It was packed and hot and smelly, but also full of so many different kinds of people. I loved it. I spent the next forty minutes watching people get on and off the train at the various stops, and fantasized about their daily lives. Some of the guys were incredibly sexy, and I knew they would feature in my future fantasies.
Fred met me as promised at the O’Hare airport terminal, and we beat the rush hour traffic back to his home in Schaumburg. His mother welcomed me warmly, so different from my own, and I was instantly jealous of Fred and what he had. A supportive family, a good job, and a beautiful, peaceful home to live in. Simple things mean everything when you have none of them.
I shook myself out of the brewing pity party and unpacked my clothes in the guest bedroom. Fred told me dinner was at six, so I decided to rest a little beforehand. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally, from the trip.
Fred woke me with a knock on the door just before six. I used the hall bathroom, splashed some water on my face, and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My left eye was only slightly red in the outside corner. Thankfully no black eye. The damage was mostly internal. Didn’t hurt any less.
I sat at the Thompson dinner table like a member of the family. It helped that I knew them a little. As we dined on homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes, Mr. Thompson brought up my pending job search.
“Do you know what you are looking for?” he asked.
“At this point, I’d take just about anything. As long as it pays enough for a small apartment near transportation. I don’t have a car at the moment. It died the second I got home,” I said to Fred.
“Bummer,” he replied.
“You have a business degree?” asked his father.
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
“What kind of work experience?”
I put my hands in my lap and looked down at my empty plate. “Nothing to speak of. I worked at McDonald’s in high school and for a couple of summers during college. Last summer I worked on campus with the housing department, doing mostly clerical work.”
“I see,” said Mr. Thompson.
“Who would like dessert?” asked Mrs. Thompson. Fred and I raised our hands and everybody laughed. Fred and I cleared the table while she pulled short, white ramekins from the refrigerator and we all returned to the table.
“What is this?” I asked, licking my spoon. The creamy vanilla custard with a crunch melted-sugar topping was delicious.
“It’s called creme brulee. Have you never had it before?” asked Mrs. Thompson.
“No. It’s wonderful.”
“It’s Fred’s favorite.” He grinned and kept eating.
After Fred and I did the dishes, he showed me the basement game room. There was a ping pong table on one side, and a collection of chairs and a sofa in front of a large flat screen TV hanging on the wall. Fred wanted to play a video game. I sighed, resigned to embarrassing myself for the sake of free food and lodging.
I had lost two car races when Mr. Thompson came down and interrupted us.
“Jack, how would you like to come into the office with me tomorrow? I can show you around our little company, and we can chat more about your job search.”
I looked at Fred and he shrugged. “Sure, I can do that. What time do I need to be ready to leave?” We set a time, and Mr. Thompson left us to our game. Fred slaughtered me in three more races, then we called it a day and went to bed.
That night, I laid in the comfortable guest bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating my future. Hopefully Mr. Thompson had some ideas to jump start my job search. Something needed to break my way.
The next morning, after breakfast, Fred left for work, and I left with Mr. Thompson for his company’s office. It was a small, one-story building in an industrial park west of the airport. I followed him to his office and he shared with me his plan.
He suggested I shadow a woman I assumed was his assistant for the morning, and then we would go to lunch and talk more. I was hardly in a position to say no.
His assistant turned out to be the office manager, and I spent the morning learning what she could show me about bookkeeping. Accounting in class was very different than accounting in real life. It was interesting, and I could see how the various functions worked together to accomplish the whole. I was surprised when Mr. Thompson interrupted us a few hours later.
“Rosie? Can I speak with you for a minute?” he asked.
“Sure,” she replied, pushing her chair back.
“We won’t be long, Jack. Sit tight, okay?”
“Can I finish matching the invoices to the packing slips?” I asked.
He looked at Rosie and she smiled. “Uh…sure, I guess so,” he said. Rosie nodded and they went into this office and shut the door.
I had every vendor invoice matched to its corresponding purchase order and packing slip when they came out a short while later, all smiles. Mr. Thompson said it was lunch time and we left.
Over Chinese food at a tiny hole-in-the-wall place with eight tables and a busy pickup counter, Mr. Thompson got right to it.
“How would you like to be my new office manager?” he asked. I choked on a bite of Mongolian beef and drank half a glass of water to calm down.
“I don’t understand? What’s an office manager? And why me?”
“I have an opening, and you need a job. Rosie is my current office manager, but she’s leaving in a month to get married. She said you caught on very quickly to everything this morning, and she feels between the two of us, we can train you for the job before she leaves.”
“Seriously?” I sat back in my chair, looking down at my plate and fighting back tears.
“Do you want the job?”
I nodded without a word, still staring at my plate. A tear escaped and hastily wiped it away.
“Jack? You okay?” I nodded again and lifted my head. I met his eyes for a split second, then looked down again. My hands were shaking in my lap.
“Do you have any questions?” he asked.
“When do you want me to start?” I asked, looking up again.
“I think you already did,” he said with a smile.
My days were spent learning debits and credits with Mr. Thompson, who soon became Marcus, and my evenings were spent looking for a place to live. Every place I looked at was too expensive or had no access to public transportation.
We were sitting down to dinner halfway through my second week at the Thompson’s when Fred made a big announcement.
“I think I’ve found the solution to your housing problem, Jack. I was talking with a guy at work today who’s looking for a new roommate. I told him about you, and he said he was open to meeting. What do you think?”
I swallowed my food and scrambled for an answer. “Oh…um…I don’t know. I hadn’t thought…I mean…where does he live?” I stammered. The idea of living with a total stranger seemed risky. What if he figured out I was gay? I’d be out on the street in a heartbeat—or worse.
“It’s maybe thirty minutes from the office, I think. Totally doable. What do you think?” asked Fred.
“Well…I guess so,” I said, trying not to be ungrateful. I couldn’t live at the Thompson’s forever. Marcus and his wife exchanged a look, but said nothing.
“Cool. I’ll tell him tomorrow,” said Fred.
We all settled back into eating the delicious meal Mrs. Thompson had prepared. Home-cooked meals were the norm in the Thompson household—another thing to be jealous of. I couldn’t remember the last time my mother had cooked a full course meal, which was too bad because she had been a pretty good cook when I was younger.
After dinner Mrs. Thompson asked if I would take a ride with her to pick up some dessert for later. I could hardly refuse after all they had done for me in such a short time. We headed out and soon pulled into a large apartment complex. The buildings were nicely painted, the grounds were beautifully landscaped, and there was no trash or junk lying around.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
Turning off the car, she said, “I have something to show you. Come on, it’ll only take a minute.” I followed her to one of the apartment buildings and up a flight of stairs to number 2105. Inside, I saw no furniture, but there were a stack of white dishes stacked on the kitchen counter by the sink, a silver metal trash can and some newer-looking pots and pans sitting on an open shelf above the stove. Mrs. Thompson led me down the hallway, past the bathroom with thick brown towels hanging on the racks and into the single bedroom at the rear. On the floor, underneath a double window framed in simple yellow curtains, was a queen size air mattress covered with basic white sheets and a navy blue duvet cover. A white plastic nightstand stood near the head of the bed, holding up a small lamp.
Looking around with a smile on her face, she asked, “How does it look?”
“I think it’s very nice. But, if you don’t mind my asking, who are we meeting here?”
She laughed sweetly and grabbed one of my hands. “No one, honey. This is all for you. You live here now.”
My mouth dropped open as something warm and wonderful washed over me. I so did not want to cry in front of her but there was no stopping the tears. As they spilled down my cheeks, I stood there, looking around the apartment, and then back at her, full of questions. Why? Why would someone I barely knew do all this for me? I was nobody to her. Nothing made sense.
I tried to speak past the lump in my throat, but she stopped me.
“Jack, you don’t need to say anything. I hope I haven’t overstepped. It’s just…my husband and I talked about it, and I know you haven’t always had an easy time of things, and right now you need a little help to get things going right in your life. If you are going to work with my husband, then you need a place to live that you can afford. I knew the rent here would be doable and they rent for six months at a time, so you can always go somewhere else when you have a chance to explore the area a little more. There is a bus stop right inside the complex here and the bus takes you within two blocks of the office. That should work until you can find a car. I went to Walmart and added a few small things to hopefully make it feel a little more like home. I know you didn’t bring anything with you but some clothes. I hope you like it.”
I wiped my eyes and face with the bottom of my shirt, took a deep breath, then let it out. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before. Ever. I don’t really know what to say. I appreciate it very much, it all looks perfect. But why me?”
She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes. “Why not you? You are a smart, good-looking, gentle, nice young man who has every right to have a great life. You’ve worked hard in school, been responsible to work and take care of things, and you strike me as a diligent sort of person. I think you are well worth investing in, and I wanted to help.”
“Well, I will pay you back for everything just as soon as I can.”
She laughed, lightly back handing my arm. “Nonsense, you will do nothing of the sort. I won’t accept it. This is not a loan—it’s a gift. Besides, you have to pay your own rent and utilities, so save your hard-earned money for those.”
“But I can’t just let you set me up in a home and do nothing in return,” I pleaded. “There must be something I can do to say thank you.”
“There is Jack, there is. For the rest of your life, remember someone once cared for you and helped you when you needed it the most. Then go and do the same for as many people as you possibly can. I believe you are a true giver, someone who has an infinite capacity to care for others. Fred told me you were the one who was always there when one of the guys needed something. How you would always share your pizza with someone who didn’t have the money for their own, or how you would always offer to buy gas if someone else was driving you guys somewhere or even how you worked to collect enough money for a bus ticket for Tim when he needed to get home to see his sick father. You made it possible. You even helped the guys who needed tutoring and, according to Fred, you would not accept anything back. He says you’re the reason why he passed calculus in his sophomore year. You just haven’t been taken care of yourself, and right now you are the one who needed a little help. So accept my help humbly, and continue to be you and go discover your life and all the people you will care for in the future.”
I smiled, hoping what she was saying was true. I didn’t see myself as a giver, but I was glad she did. She made me sound like the kind of guy I could be proud to be.
“I will do my best. I promise.”
“I know you will, Jack. Now, here are your keys.” She placed the keys in my hands and closed my fingers around them, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Come on, let’s go get the ice cream for the crew back home, and if you want, you can grab your stuff and come back here tonight. But Jack, you are always welcome in our home. Always.”
She hugged me, and I flinched. I tried to hug her back, but I was close to crying again, which was getting embarrassing. I just nodded and took the keys from her. I put my hand in my pocket as if to drop the keys in there, but I held on to them in my closed fist as we walked back out to the car. They felt good in my hand.