Along the Way

I woke up in a fog that sunday morning, with hardly any sleep.
I couldn't put my finger on why I was so anxious about helping Dahlia with her good deed. Perhaps it felt wrong to be on the other side of the handout for once. I knew the shame that came along with accepting help from a stranger. The amount of pride one must swallow by means of survival. I do not look forward to seeing this in their eyes. On the other hand, I know how our gifts will help. What would I have given for a clean blanket on those freezing nights? Much more than my ego.
As I was walking through the hall, I caught myself in the mirror. I studied hard at the face I saw. The sharp angle of my freshly shaved jawline, the odd flecks of color in my brown eyes. Such things never seemed to exist. I saw my father's features. His strong brow and chisled chin. The pieces I didn't recognize, I assume belonged to my mother. The wave of my hair, the arch of my cheeks.
I struggle to recall her. My memory drifts to yelling and plates breaking. The only time I can place my parents together was when they would fight. Heated arguements that shared the passion of a dance.
Neither of them ever backed down. Her hair would seem like fire, the way it flared. I remember my mother's hair. It was long and beautiful and red, smelling of peppermint and smoke. She wouldn't let him break her.

I was grateful for the sudden knocks on my door. Rubbing my forehead, I filed the sober memory away and grabbed my jacket. Off to make the world a better place.

"How did you sleep?" Dahlia asked as we turned off onto the main highway.

"Well enough." I managed.

"Coffee it is, then."
Somehow she always knew.

Our first stop was under a major overpass that held refuge from the spiraling wind. Dahlia set up a table in the small grassy area beside the concrete and placed a large thermos in the center, along with paper cups.
"Everyone needs coacoa." She whispered in response to my curious expression.
I smirked. Even now, she outdoes herself.

At first we went unnoticed by the scattered groups of people who were huddled in various areas under the bridge. We counted heads and set twenty three backpacks in a pile next to the table.

Dahlia started recruiting people, seeming completely in her element. "Can you announce it to the ones further down, Shane?" She asked me as a few old men started walking towards us.

I nodded and headed to the end of the pavement. I spotted a small girl beside her mother, several other women sitting around them so as to keep the girl hidden from passerbys. Loyalty runs deep when its all you've got. I smiled and waved at the girl. She grinned shyly and hid her face into her mother's shoulder. The group enclosed themselves further.

"Excuse me, ladies? We have hot chocolate and plenty of supplies to go around." I stayed away from the word donation.

The mother looked me up and down then shook her head disapprovingly.
"Volunteer hours for a college application, boy? Fancy that."

I anticipated the reaction. Something in the woman's eyes. "No ma'am. A very kind friend of mine is only trying to help."

"We're perfectly fine as we are, thankyou." She said proudly. But I noticed the little girl perk up at the mere mention of chocolate.

"If you don't mind, what's your girl's name?" I asked patiently.

The woman pulled the girl against her protectively.
"I do mind."

"I'm Myra!" The little girl broke free of her mothers grasp and smiled brightly at me.

I smiled back and kneeled down to reach her eye level, though kept my distance from the close knit group.
"Hello, Myra. I'm Shane. You know, Your mommy loves you very much? I can tell. If you can convince her that some hot coa coa would warm you up, me and my friend have a giant jug of it right down there, okay?" I stood and nodded my respect to her mother, then moved on. The woman seemed to be reconsidering the offer as Myra began to plead.

I continued down to the end of the way and stood on a rifted part of the cement.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Step right up and don't be shy! We have hot drinks and warm clothes, on the house. There's plenty for everyone."
Dahlia seemed pleased with the crowd I brought along.

We continued our adventure to several other attractions. The burning bins and the train station, the abandoned post office. Soon we had only two bags left. Dahlia pulled onto a familiar stretch. Mine.

We parked at a nearby pharmacy and walked the route I had known for so long. The atmosphere grew as heavy as the bag I carried on my back. Dahlia must of felt it too, because she grabbed my hand.
Together we walked towards the bridge I used to sleep on. The same one I had considered jumping from many times before.

It was a dark, grim place now. Even though I had roamed its exteriors for years, I only just noticed.

"Let's hurry." I managed to say.
She gently squeezed my hand and approached a boy not much younger than me, playing his guitar for change. She set the bag beside his worn out case without a word. He nodded without pausing from his song.

We continued out onto the bridge, the walkway separated by rails. The sun hid behind the clouds in what I thought to be a predictable turn of events.
Then I saw him. For a moment, I swore my eyes were from some other mans perspective.
A boy bundled in a faded coat and shivering on rags. The very rags I had left behind.

I don't remember walking up to him, but there I was. He seemed ill. Drunk maybe.
"Hey." was all I could say.

"Hey." He replied.

"I'm leaving this here for you." I said as I set the bag beside him. "It has what you need."

To my suprise, the boy smirked.
"Bless. But, no. What I need is a miracle."