There's A Place For Us

Chapter 4:Timothy

Hugo was thin, and not the hot guy kind of thin. The bordering on malnourishment kind of thin. I wanted to force-feed and keep him indoors even though I knew it wasn’t realistic. I couldn’t keep him here and I couldn’t afford to feed him. I was glad the next day was Friday because the worry kept me up through the night. Well, he slept peacefully on the couch wrapped in warm blankets I watched him like his heart was going to stop any minute.

I’d become attached, my parents always said I had a separation problem. It was why they’d sent me away for university so I could learn some independence. All it had done was lower the number of friends and people I had to interact with because I didn’t know anyone and nobody knew or wanted to get to know me. Now that I’d found something to hang onto I didn’t want to let go. I wanted a friend here, someone I could talk to. My friends from high school were all too busy with their own schooling and careers to call me and I’d never been the kind of person to tell my parents every single little detail about myself and I was getting sick of being alone. The neighborhood homeless kid hadn’t been what I had in mind but he needed food and a place to stay and I needed a friend.

My parents would kill me. But they knew I liked to take in strays and they gave me a place to myself. If it didn’t get filled with strays what would they expect? What would happen to Hugo in two or three years when I left? When I graduated? He’d be an adult then. I’d never asked him what his plans were. What he would have done with his life given the opportunities and chances everyone else was given. I didn’t know why I was thinking about it. If I didn’t help him now he probably wouldn’t be here in two or three years.

If Hugo was going to live here, he’d need clothes. Proper ones that actually fit him and not my hand-me-downs. I glanced at his worn shoes, he’d need new shoes, too. It occurred to me then, that he didn’t have his driver’s license or even probably know how to drive. I didn’t either but that was my choice, he wasn’t given the chance to choose whether he learned to drive or not.

I was restless, what if he didn’t want to stay? What if my landlord caught him? It was parents who would be called, their name was on the lease and they were paying for it.

I paced the apartment’s length quietly thinking about the whole ordeal. My parents would have felt sympathy for Hugo. They would have seen the reasoning behind me taking him in. But they’d also would have been the voice of reason. What are you going to do with him? What are your intentions? How is this going to help him be independent? He couldn’t stay with me forever.

I rubbed my face in frustration. What was I going to do? I always did this to myself, jump headfirst in and worry about injuries and concussions later even if they were life-threatening. Was this one of those things? It seemed like it would be, but I really didn’t want to just put Hugo back on the street or never see him again and continue alone by myself.

There was still the matter of whether Hugo would want to stay. I sat up through the whole night, didn’t sleep a wink. I listened to music to take my mind off of it. I was so distracted by the music that I didn’t hear Hugo wake up. He leaned over me and the couch I was laying on and I jumped when I noticed him.

He smiled and thought it was funny.

“Do you want breakfast?” I ask.

“No, you don’t have to,” he quickly replied.

“You can stay here if you want,” I continued quickly.

He looked shocked, like when I read his sign. He hesitated.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to intrude or be a burden,” he replies rubbing the back of his neck.

There it was, the word burden, again. He wasn’t a burden, no one should ever be made to feel they are a burden.

“You need a place to stay and I want to offer you a place,” I stated quietly.

I hoped he wanted to stay. He seemed to consider it, weigh the options, the pros and cons of here and the outside world. He seems to be thinking hard about it, like an adult who was making an actual decision, like it was hard. I guess it was hard, he didn’t know me. It’s like getting thrown into a trust situation with your college roommate the first week you meet. You have no reason to trust them or rather me. I realize his trust was probably pretty thin too because he was homeless at sixteen.

“You’re young, I know it’s hard to support yourself never mind someone else,” he continues.

“To be honest, I just don’t want to see you go back out on the street and it’s lonely here. I wouldn’t mind your company,” I confess.

I hoped he didn’t take that out of context. He seemed to think about it again.

“Are you sure, Timothy?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” I answered confidently.

He went silent again, deliberating.

“Okay,” he finally replied.

“Great, now, let’s go find you some clothes that actually fit you,” I comment.