“My gout is killing me.”
“You can control it with diet.” With a little self-restraint. Her mother loved rich foods.
“So why are you giving things out to the homeless? You’ll get fleas and lice, you know. Or TB.” Eileen came back to her original subject with a vengeance. “You’re not letting them into the store, are you, or feeding them?”
“No, you need permits for that. We’re going to give them clothes and some supplies they need.”
“You’ll just encourage them to stay on the streets.” It was a familiar mantra Spencer had heard before, which made no sense. No one was going to stay on the streets, in miserable conditions, for free socks and a sleeping bag and a jacket. The project was about arming them for survival, not seducing them into homelessness. The very idea was ridiculous.
“I don’t think that’s the issue, Mom,” Spencer said simply, and moved on. “It’s good to do something for the community.” And the human race. “Do you want to come and see the boys? You haven’t seen them in a while.” Spencer hated her mother’s visits but felt duty-bound to ask her. She was their only grandparent, but hardly ever saw them. She was more involved in herself.
“They always have runny noses or stomach flu. I don’t want to catch anything from them. They’re little disease factories at that age.” It was one way to look at it. It always startled Spencer how little desire her mother had to see the twins. She didn’t consider them “interesting” yet, at seven. Eileen had felt that way about Spencer too, and by the time she did find her daughter interesting, Spencer had left for college, and they never connected except at a dutiful, superficial level on Spencer’s part. Her mother wasn’t a warm person, and Spencer found it impossible to relate to her. They were just too different. Her mother considered their differences a fatal flaw in her daughter, and never questioned herself, nor sought to improve their relationship. Spencer had given up on having a real relationship with her long ago. Her grandparents had given her all the love she needed. Her parents had both been selfish and cold. And Spencer’s relationship with her boys was intentionally the opposite, warm, open, and loving. She spent all her spare time with them. “I might come to lunch at the store one of these days,” Eileen conceded. “I want to see what the renovations look like since the fire.” Spencer knew she’d be looking for mistakes to criticize.
“They did a very nice job,” Spencer said. “It’s even prettier than before.”
“That’s not what I hear.” Spencer could just envision Eileen’s expression when she said it, with pursed lips. It was the facial expression Spencer always associated with her mother, as much as she did her grandmother’s shy flirtatious smile, and her grandfather’s laughing eyes, and her father’s stern expression of long-suffering disapproval. Like many families, hers was a mixed bag. The good genes had skipped a generation.
The first night of packing in the garage was predictably chaotic. No one knew exactly what they were doing, since they hadn’t done it before. They were learning as they went along. Marcy and Beau were on the team to pack the bags. Spencer walked from group to group, seeing how it all fit together, and tried packing one of the bags herself, to find the best system. It all worked, and what they were giving people would keep them warm in winter, cool in summer weather, covered, dry, and lightly fed. They gave them what they needed to sleep, for rain, utensils to eat with, what they could use to get clean, and even a deck of cards. It was a survival kit for the streets.
They ran out of a few items, which Marcy replaced, flashlights and batteries, and they needed more socks. With eighteen of them doing it, since everyone had showed up—fourteen employees, three department heads, and Spencer herself—they packed all hundred bags in one night and had scheduled their “Opening Night” for the following day, after work.
Spencer had made the big heart-shaped red signs, which she was going to tape inside the store windows the next day and leave them there. Big beautiful red hearts, with glitter letters that said, “Free Love,” and all the pertinent information for the garage below them, and at the bottom in smaller but noticeable black letters, the gentle request not to camp in front of the store at night. She wondered if it would work. Whether it did or not, the local homeless would get supplies they needed desperately.
They were all excited when they left that night. It felt like the eve of opening night of a big event. They were looking forward to it and planned to be there the next night to hand the bags out. Spencer and Beau high-fived each other, as Marcy looked on, smiling broadly, after Spencer taped the signs inside the windows, for all to see as they walked past the following afternoon. She saw people stop and read them and hoped the homeless population would too.