"Miss Joy, I got nothing for lunch," Joey announced when I arrived. "I been real busy making dinner."
Right… a pot of green beans didn't look like "real busy" to me; that child was counting on the Sunday Lady to make lunch—and you know I love it when he does that.
The mystery box coughed up just gobs of fun cans, Joey offered some vegetables from the cooler, and I cooked a pot of macaroni to top it off. That was probably the biggest pot of soup yet—and it was nearly gone when lunch was over. Joey deep fried some chicken patties which we served on buns, and he had 3 large pans of Caesar salad. Our folks had a really fine lunch today—I ate some of it myself!
We served about a dozen pre-release folks, and about 30 residents. I did scan the crowd for familiar faces, and found few. There are four children there now, but none of them was at lunch. Bitty Baby and his parents have moved on. I didn't see our Angel either, and our deaf fellow lost his place there…
A new guy hung around chewing the fat with Joey and me, long after his meal—wanted us to know that of all the shelters he's stayed in, ours is the best—the very best. And he's stayed in shelters in FORTY-FOUR states! He gave us reports on the Grand Canyon, Wyoming, Texas—places I will never see. I guess travel isn't as expensive as I was thinking.
Pretty Woman was the story of the day. As I said last week, she was nursing a brand new dilemma, and it was just a tad too sad and desperate, in my opinion. Mr. Huggy was still trying to lift her spirits, and apparently he succeeded to the point that she accepted his money and left the place. According to Joey, it was a substantial amount. Providence certainly does have a sense of humor.
So this absolutely gorgeous young fellow came to the counter today, but he wouldn't take any food. Joey encouraged him to "eat something," but the boy said he was too down and out to eat. I tried to interest him in soup, without luck. When everyone had left the lunchroom, that child was still sitting at a table, picking at his cell phone, trying to patch up a disagreement between himself and his long-time friend. He was lower 'n a snake's belly.
I went out and sat down by him. "Do you know the show 'Will and Grace?' You look so much like Jack—only a black Jack, and he's so gorgeous!"
He does. He looks like movie-star material. The whites of his eyes are white (not yellow or red); his smile is perfect; and his hair is cut precisely and just pitch black. His skin is a rich, warm brown. All in all, this kid is some kind of cute. And you know, we spend a lot of time wondering what we might do with our lives if we just had that perfect Hollywood face… and we don't realize that the face sometimes comes with large learning disabilities. "Jack" didn't make it past 5th grade because he "can't learn." The only job he's ever been able to keep was frying chicken at a fast-food place. In every other position, he forgets what to do, and they fire him.
We talked a long time. I don't see great hope for a future for this child. I want to give him hope, but I'm grasping at straws, at the very best. And there he sat, thinking his biggest problem in the whole world was a disagreement between himself and a friend. Maybe it is.
I tossed a pack of bubble gum at him on my way out. He loves my name, and he thinks I'm pretty :)
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