There's A Place For Us

Chapter 5:Hugo

I was surprised but grateful when Timothy offered to let me stay permanently. I was surprised when he took me shopping, too.

“Your shoes are worn and unsuitable for winter, my clothes won’t fit you and you need more than what you have,” he reasoned.

I was used to living on so little and with so little that I thought it was ridiculous that I could need more. He took me to the mall and we figured out my shoe size since I’d grown since I’d last bought shoes. I was a size eleven and a half. My shoes next to Timothy’s looked huge, he was a size eight apparently. I kept looking at the price tags and questioning and worrying Timothy would turn it down once he saw how much it actually cost to provide for me but he didn’t. He even insisted on getting the ones I liked the most even if they were more expensive.

“You should feel comfortable in the clothing,” he insisted.

I didn’t feel comfortable in brand new shoes, period and I still choose one of the less expensive pairs for that and his sake. As soon as we left the store with my new hiking boots, Timothy made me change, the new hiking boots were much more comfortable and suitable for the weather. We went to a clothing store next, Timothy made me pick out everything, from pants, to shirts, to sweaters and more. I had no idea what was considered cool anymore, I’d been out of the social teen scene too long and I didn’t really care. I did, however, care about the bill I was racking up. What if things went wrong and Timothy wanted me to pay him back? It would be impossible.

“I don’t owe you anything for this, right?” I questioned.

“No,” he answered simply.

I had to trust his word on it. I hadn’t trusted anyone in a very long time, mainly because you can’t unless you really know them and even then, looks can be deceiving. Nothing put me off about Timothy though. Untrustworthy people often have ticks or lose it or seem creepy in some way. Timothy wasn’t like that from what I could tell. I wished I could do something in return for him. But in my current situation that was impossible.

He said it was lonely in the apartment by himself. Didn’t he have friends? The more I thought about it, he spent little time on social media apps despite liking to talk. He didn’t call people and people didn’t call him. He hadn’t said much about his family since yesterday. He would just go on and on about abstract things like what he thought I’d look nice in and how boring school was. I never got to finish the tenth-grade but I could relate to that. I knew school was essential though.

“What would you do if you got the chance?” Timothy asked suddenly.

“I want to be a soldier,” I answered honestly.

It was one of the few dreams I could still hope of achieving some day.

“I want to fight for something and others since no one fought for me,” I continued.

This seemed interesting and he went off on a tangent about missals, Hitler and world war II and how close our country was to starting the third. I was glad he liked to talk, it filled the void of silence.

“Are you doing what you want? In university?” I asked.

He looked at me and went quiet for a bit.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but I honestly don’t even want to be in university,” he answered. “Sure, I’m good at it and all but I just don’t enjoy it,” he answers.

“What do you want to do?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I think I spent too long being driven by others and my parents’ ambitions that I didn’t find any of my own.”

“You like reading, you could be an editor for the book companies you like to read,” I suggest.

“I love reading,” he agreed sheepishly flipping through a rack of shirts.

Something dawned on me then. Most college students had girlfriends, I wondered if Timothy had one.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked.

He froze for a second before answering, “No.”

“Have you ever had one?” I continue.

“Not really,” he answered.

I decided to leave alone since he didn’t seem to like the topic. I let him go back to rambling and helping me find a new wardrobe. In the end, I think we spent over a hundred dollars on new clothing for me. I didn’t like it but Timothy insisted. At least, whenever I get tossed out on my ass again I would be prepared. He replaced my bag with a bigger one I could carry everything in it and bought me a chapstick and some candy because they were the only things I’d really wanted.

I was still waiting for it to all come crashing down or for Timothy to change his mind or realize his mistake.

We rode the train back to his apartment. He started cooking supper for us when his phone rang, he sighed and picked it up.

“Hi, Mom,” he started.

“It was necessary,” he continued.

“I’m fine, Mom. I just needed new clothes okay?” he reasoned.

His parents must have looked at his bank account and seen how much he’d spent.

“No, that’s not why,” he commented stirring the food in the pot absentmindedly. “I wish that was why.”

He looked embarrassed and tired, like he didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Mom, I promise you. I’m fine. I just needed clothes. Now I’m trying to cook and it’s hard to cook and hold a phone at the same time,” he reassured her.

“See you later, too. Love you, bye,” he finished as he hung up.

He continued to cook the food.

“They watch your bank account?” I question.

He looks over at me like he just realized I heard his half of the conversation.

“Yeah, they thought I did it because I finally got a date,” he mutters.

“You go on shopping sprees when you get dates?” I questioned.

“No, it’s what girls do when they get dates and as my mother’s child she attempted to instill that in me, too. Personally, if you went on a shopping spree every time you got a date, you’d be broke pretty fast. I’d rather help you with it,” he answers.

“But you also said you wished you had a date,” I comment pointing back to the phone conversation.

“It would be nice but it’s not necessary. You need clothes and food to live more than I need a date, Hugo,” he continues.

I wonder how hard it would be to get him a date. I didn’t know his type or what he’d like to do on a date. It would be weird for a teenager to go around asking college kids if they’d be up for a date. I also got the feeling Timothy didn’t like surprises. Example: Blind Dates.

Timothy went back to stirring the food. I watched him, something struck me then. I liked watching him, I like hanging out with him. Growing up, I never cared about sports, maybe it was because I knew my foster parents could never afford to put me in them or would want to stay out late to pick me up or go to the games. I’d never been interested in girls, I thought I just didn’t like anyone at my school. The more I studied him, the more I realized why I agreed to stay, why I wanted to trust him. I liked him. This was a terrible time and place to have this revelation.

I was living with the guy and nobody was around to keep me in check or be the voice of reason. I realized why I wanted to do something in return for him. I wanted him to like me back. It was unlikely, and there was no way in hell, I was going to ask if he was.

I got up and I went into the washroom. s**t. s**t. s**t! I thought over and over. I sat on the bathroom floor trying to calm myself, my heart, my blush. I thought I finally got lucky finding someone willing to take me in and now I’d been thrown this curb ball. Being the bathroom where Timothy had probably stood naked hundreds of times wasn’t helping. I needed to stay here, or did I want to stay here? What was I hoping for? It was two years, and then I could apply to join the army. I just had to make it two years with him. With any luck, he’d get a girlfriend and friends and the guilt of ruining his life would hopefully keep me in check.

You can do this. No, you need to do this so you can survive and become a soldier. That’s all that matters now. You can make your parents proud if you do that. Come on, Hugo.

I finally calmed my heart and looked over my face, making sure it was devoid of what I was actually feeling. I left the bathroom and went back to the couch like nothing had just happened. Like I hadn’t just discovered I wasn’t straight and in love with the guy who’d taken me in. Maybe I wasn’t, maybe I felt affection for him because I had been taken in. Maybe I didn’t want him to like me, maybe I wanted to avoid being kicked out. Becoming homeless again.

“You hungry?” he asks when it’s finally ready.

“No, I think I need to take the introduction of three meals a day slow. It’s been one for so long,” I reasoned quietly using it as an excuse for the sickness at what I felt for him.

I turned the TV on and flipped through the channels lost. I’d been quiet before but I was more so now, I didn’t want to come off as clingy or interested. I had to keep a low profile on what I felt.

“Okay,” he replied. He served and ate by himself before taking a seat on the love seat opposite me.

I wanted to join him but I knew if I did I wouldn’t hold myself back for much longer. So, I stayed where I was. Staring meaninglessly at the TV screen. None of it was getting through to me or being processed, I had no concept of the storyline or what was going on, I could barely keep my eyes off Timothy.

It wasn’t fair, why now? When things were just getting better? But that’s when love comes along normally, right? When you least expect it? When everything’s going right and the one thing that could go wrong and ruin it does.

Timothy ended up falling asleep on the love seat curled up, he looked cute but I didn’t dare move. I knew if I did, I would end up right next to him and if the universe wanted to make me any unluckier they’d have him wake up then. It was bad enough I was watching from across the room. I prayed the crush would pass but it would be hard when I was going to spend the next two years with him.

I decided to raid his bookshelf out of sleeplessness. I read quite a few of the backs of the books and found he had an affinity for the underdog, maybe he saw himself in them in a way. I knew I did. One issue I had with stories as a child was they always had happy endings or at least the children’s books I had read did. I learned quickly life wasn't always happy endings and rainbows, the storm liked to rage on for weeks, seeming like it’d never let up if given the choice.

I selected a novel and started reading but I couldn’t focus, just like with the TV. I kept re-reading the same paragraph over and over trying to make sense of it but my head was spinning with thoughts of Timothy and tiredness.

What was I supposed to do with this? The feelings and this situation? My parents had never had the whole love conversation, they’d barely had the s*x conversation with me and my foster parents sure didn’t feel it was their job to have it with me. The street people I’d bunked with in the shelter like to go on and on about their own lives before giving me any advice on my own. I also fell asleep listening to their stories because of how tired I was after a day of surviving.

I prayed and prayed it would go away. But I want to make one thing clear, I didn’t want my feelings for Timothy to go away because it was wrong and I was ashamed, I wanted them to go away because it wasn’t realistic that I and he could ever be, and because it was hindering my plan.

My plan of becoming a soldier. What if I changed my mind because I wanted to stay here with him? What would I do then?

I had no answers. Not for myself, anyway.