One Week Earlier

Saturday

“Excuse me, sir. I wanted you to have this. It’s on the house,” Ayan said, setting a frothy latte down on the table. The somber man who had been leaning his head against the window a moment before glanced up at Ayan, then down at the cup. He stared at the drink, which Ayan had artistically drawn a dove on with microfoam, his newest acquired skill. It was something he had been dying to try.

“I, uh, hope you like it,” Ayan said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“A dove,” the man said, his voice barely a croak. It sounded as though he had been recently crying.

“Yes,” Ayan smiled. “They always cheer me up. You seemed a little down, so I hoped it might do the same for you.”

“I saw the spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him,” the man said, a strange look in his eye as he turned his gaze from the drink to Ayan. The gaze was unblinking.

Ayan wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. He was used to getting all types in his little cafe, so a man quoting the bible wasn’t exactly out of place. Still, the intensity with which the man now looked at him was a little unnerving.

“Enjoy, my friend,” Ayan said, patting the man on the shoulder, and turning to head back behind the counter. For the rest of the afternoon, he kept glancing in the man’s direction, and noticed almost every time that this stranger was staring at him rather intently.

“Why’s he looking at you like that?” whispered Junna, tightening the ponytail in her bright turquoise hair.

“I hope he’s just contemplating the free latte I gave him, and not planning to wear my skin as a jacket or something,” Ayan muttered so that only Junna could hear him.

“Well, you do have very nice skin. The perfect shade of brown for a fancy coat. In the right hands, it would really accentuate a cute autumn outfit,” Junna said, eyeing Ayan appreciatively and causing him to burst out laughing.

“I did some of that microfoam art that Sasha taught me. Went with a dove. Apparently, it was a hit,” Ayan said, noting his gaze was lingering just a bit too long on the back of Junna’s neck as she played with her ponytail.

“Sasha taught you well. Perhaps a little too well. Her fault if you become a jacket.”

“Well, I know who to come back and haunt,” Ayan grinned.

You would know all about that.

“Shush,” Ayan muttered. Junna glanced at him curiously, but said nothing.

“I’ll be doing the count later, hoping our dear son isn’t skimming again,” Junna said.

Ayan winced.

“You know that it’s most likely him. I love the kid, but he’s the only one running the register when it comes up short. And we both know where that money should be going instead,” Junna pointed out.

“I know,” Ayan muttered, “I just don’t have the heart to confront him. His home life is already shit. I wish there was something more we could do.”

“Listen, if I could actually afford to adopt the kid, and his parents would sign over custody, you know I would,” said Junna. “Right now, we are the closest thing to actual adults that he has in his life. You need to talk to Shima, and let him know that it isn’t right, what he’s doing. Especially here, and now.”

“I will,” Ayan said. “assuming the register is short again.”

“We both know it will be,” said Junna.

Ayan groaned, and Junna playfully bumped her shoulder into his, “Hey, you’ve got this.”

She likes you. It’s so obvious.

“I’m gonna go check what’s going on in the back,” Ayan said. “We’ll deal with Shima when we have to.”

An hour later, Charlie came in, setting off the tinkle of the bell over the door. Charlie was looking dingier than usual today, his sweatshirt and pants stained with dirt, his hair and face disheveled. The telling purple of a black eye. It was clear he had been through the ringer.

“What happened to you?” Ayan asked, noting the slight limp in Charlier’s step as he got closer.

“Got jumped,” Charlier muttered. “They took my shoes, my tent, and my backpack. Left me with just this shiner to show for it.”

Ayan glanced over the counter to see that Charlie indeed was not wearing any shoes. As if being homeless wasn’t stressful enough, now he had lost all of his worldy possessions, again.

“Jeez, Charlie,” Ayan said, “I have a few things in the back I can grab you right now. I’ve got a sleepingbag, some extra clothes that were donated. You write me down a list, and I’ll see what else I can get you, okay?”

Charlie looked like he was gonna cry, “You don’t have to do all that. I just came in for one of those murukkus, or maybe a fritter that you make so good, and a coffee. I got some change.”

Charlie dug around in his pockets until he found a couple dollars, which he held out to Ayan, who waved his money away.

“Anything you want, Charlie, it’s on the house. Always. You know that. That’s why this cafe is here.”

Now Charlie’s tears were flowing down his face, and Ayan walked around the counter and opened his arms, giving Charlie the option of going in for a hug, which he took immediately. Charlie cried into Ayan’s arms for a few minutes as Junna continued to serve others around them. Ayan directed Junna to grab Charlie a coffee and some treats, with some extra sandwiches thrown in, then he had Charlie sit down at the nearest table as he ran to the back to look through donations for him. Luckily, he found a pair of shoes, a new sweatshirt, some clean pants, socks, and the sleepingbag that would have to do for now. Ayan gave Charlie a bag with the supplies, along with the sleepingbag, then handed him some extra cash so he could shower at the Y.

“Come back in tomorrow, and I should have some of the other things you need,” Ayan said. “I threw in a few extra sandwiches for you and your friend, May. Did she get robbed too?”

Charlie shook his head, “No, she was spared, thank the Lord.”

“Well, when you see her, tell her I say hi. And don’t forget to stop back in tomorrow, okay?” Ayan nodded for emphasis.

“Okay,” Charlie said, “Thank you, Ayan. God bless you, my friend.”

Charlie walked out the door with much more of a pep in his step than he had entered with. Ayan noticed the man at the table that had been watching him now staring at Charlie as he left. Once the door closed, the man’s gaze turned right back to Ayan, who gave a quick customer service smile, and returned to work.

A half hour later was closing time, and Ayan finally walked over to the strange new patron who appeared to have finished his Latte.

“Was everthing to your liking?” Ayan asked. The man had ordered a muffin and a sandwich earlier, and there wasn’t a crumb left of either on his empty plate.

“Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy,” said the man, gazing up at Ayan with his mouth slightly agape, staring with something like awe.

“A great motto to live by,” said Ayan with a smile. He was just about to slip away to finish cleaning when the man spoke up.

“Elijah,” said the man, holding out a hand.

“Oh,” Ayan took his hand and shook it, “I’m Ayan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elijah. We’re closing up in about ten minutes, I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“You are a man who truly lives by the word of Jesus,” said Elijah.

“By all accounts, it seems like he was a caring and wonderful individual, so I appreciate the comparison,” said Ayan. “I do strive to live by the golden rule, doing unto others as I would have done unto me. Makes life so much simpler, don’t you think?”

“It does,” Elijah grinned, “Who is Ravi?”

Ayan was momentarily caught off-guard by the question, “I’m sorry?”

“Ravi’s Respite, the name of your cafe. If you’re Ayan, who’s Ravi? Or am I making too many assumptions? You seem like the one in charge here, but perhaps you’re just a manager? I mean, not just a manager…”

“My twin,” Ayan blurted, caught offguard by his response as much as he had been by the question. “I named the cafe after him. We use the majority of the proceeds to help the homeless and other charities. All of it in honor of my brother.”

“He’s no longer with us?” Elijah asked, clearly picking up on Ayan’s tone.

Ayan shook his head.

“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him. I know your brother watches you from heaven. I am certain in my heart that he feels neither pain nor fear, and has nothing but love for you.”

Ayan swallowed back an uncomfortable lump, and nodded, “I appreciate that, Elijah.”

Elijah stood so suddenly that Ayan fell back a step, startled. Ayan had not realized what a giant the man was, standing at least half a foot taller than him. Ayan was no shrimp at almost six feet tall. Elijah had a handsome boyish face, marked only by the fine lines of age. Large eyebrows raised over shimmering greenish blue eyes that seemed to peer uncomfortably into Ayan’s soul. “I’ll see you around, Ayan. Bless you for your kindness today.”

“It-it was my pleasure,” said Ayan. He watched Elijah turn and head out the door, then jumped again when Junna spoke up right beside him.

“He’s definitely going to wear you as a skin suit,” Junna said.

“You scared the shit out of me!” Ayan hissed, placing a hand over his chest as he burst into laughter, turning to Junna, “Did you finish cleaning up and doing the count?”

“Yeah, just gotta get Ed Gein’s table there, and I will be all set,” Junna said. “Just one problem though, the till is light again. $70 this time. I checked it three times, and I know it wasn’t you, because why would you steal from your own cafe? And it wasn’t me because I’m too paranoid to steal from you. It wasn’t Angela, who spent all day baking. Darcy called out today. Which leaves…”

“Shima,” Ayan muttered, sighing.

“Shima,” Junna nodded. “The only one with consistent access to the till, which happens to be short on the days he has been working.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Ayan said.

“I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to give him a million more chances, and he’s going to keep stealing from you until you’re handing him the shirt off your back, the shoes off your feet, and the keys to your car. There’s only so many chances you can give people before you realize that some of them are a lost cause,” Junna said.

“What’s with the sudden change of heart? Earlier you were talking about wanting to adopt him. He’s not a lost cause. Not yet. He’s a good kid, and I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Seventy dollars isn’t pocket change, and while he is a teenager, he is also old enough to know better,” Junna said. “I don’t care how shitty his parents are.”

Ayan shook his head, “I’ve got a tent to buy. Let’s finish up so we can go home.”

“Just make sure you talk to him, okay? Or I will have to, and you won’t like the outcome,” Junna said.

“I will. I promise,” Ayan said.

Ayan went to the back to take all the trash to the dumpster. The back door slammed shut behind him and he used the small silver key on his keychain to open the dumpster and toss away the bags of trash, disappointed to see how much had already accumulated that day. He locked the dumpster up, and used the keys to unlock the back door and head inside.

Thirty minutes later, they were finished and locking up. Junna waved as she got into her car and drove off. Ayan shifted his backpack as he began the short walk home to his apartment. His whole life now was the cafe, but unfortunately, he needed a place to sleep. His apartment was cheap, nearby, and had enough room for a bed and internet connection so he could watch stuff on his phone or laptop in the hours he wasn’t working or volunteering at the soup kitchen.

As he walked down one of the back alleyways, he heard a man’s distant angry shouts. Unsure if it was the tv, or someone in real life screaming, he froze for a moment to hear better. The shouting appeared to be coming from a television, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he continued on his way.

Memories of his father popped up, unbidden into his mind. His father screaming at him, throwing him into the wall, all but strangling the life out of him before letting him go and stomping away. His father beating his brother unconscious right next to him. Violent abuse in his household an almost nightly occurence for years. Ayan shivered at the horrid memories.

Then he shivered again as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turned to glance behind him, but saw no one there. No one in the alley, nor anyone standing in the road at the end of it. Strange, as he had the distinct sensation that he was being watched. Maybe someone looking out a window or something. He shifted his backpack again and picked up the pace as he worked on remembering what items Charlie needed. Tent, gloves, socks…

He could get those tonight, and hopefully Charlie wouldn’t be having too bad of a night out in the elements. The man hated staying at the shelter, never feeling secure. Ayan couldn’t blame him, since he so often seemed to have his stuff stolen by the type of people who saw someone tiny and shy like Charlie as an easy victim. Ayan was happy to try to get him everything he needed to feel independent and safe outdoors. In fact, Ayan was happy to help almost anyone who crossed his path.

He reached his apartment door just in time to hear the familiar click of the locks on Mrs. Sanchez’s door across the hall. She peeked her head out, and smiled upon spotting him.

“Ayan, it’s you,” she said. “I was so sure it would be those horrid agents, come to take me away.”

Ayan’s heart broke for her, “Nope, just me, Mrs. Sanchez. And you shouldn’t open your door to the agents anyway.”

“You and I both know they’ll just break the door down, then I’ll be locked up somewhere and Mr. Marco will get out and run wild in the street with no door to keep him safe inside. You still have that key I gave you, in case something happens?”

“Of course I do,” said Ayan. Mr. Marco was her old cat, who was half blind, and not likely to go very far. Ayan had promised to care for the poor creature if ICE ever came and grabbed Mrs. Sanchez, but he desperately hoped that would never be the case.

“Well, I have to get back to my shows, young man. Stop by any time for some banana bread if you like!” she said, before quickly shutting and locking the door. Ayan scoffed in amusement as he headed into his apartment.