Eric Dinnocenzo - The Tenant Lawyer (35 page)

After a short while it was time for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, and it was then that I saw Father Kelly. He went up to the podium to address the assembled crowd, and everyone quieted down so that the only noise was from the cars passing by on the street.

“This is a special day,” he announced. “Today we are going to officially open this transitional living center for women with children. This center will house nine families in need of emergency housing and will facilitate programs to help the residents with issues such as housing, domestic violence, benefits and employment. I should note that it was not easy to get where we are today. I want to thank the members of the social services community in Worcester who helped get us here.” He pointed into the crowd. “Lawrence
Geuss
, Nancy
Brightman
, Gloria Ortiz.” Between each name people politely applauded. “Thank you to each of you.”

I saw Nancy
Brightman’s
husband give her a kiss on the cheek after her name was called and felt a pang of emptiness inside because I didn’t have someone special to share the moment with.

“I also want to especially thank Mark Langley, a legal services attorney, who I see is here today. He volunteered hours of his time to this cause, and his dedication and legal skills were instrumental in making this day happen. To my mind, he is the embodiment of what a lawyer and citizen should be. Aside from that, he is someone I value very much as a friend.”

He paused so that the crowd could applaud for me. I looked straight ahead, a surge of warmth flooding through my body, feeling proud of what I had done and touched by Father Kelly’s words.

Father Kelly spoke for a few minutes more, and after he finished, we all filed into the building for a tour. Following the crowd, I reflected on the past six months of my life and how so much had happened: CDBG, Anna’s case, my breakup with Sara. I felt that I was at a point in my life where I was coasting along before figuring out what direction I’d ultimately head in. I was like a jogger who had just climbed a big hill and was going easy on the down slope, a good part of the race still ahead. Maybe I would stay at legal services, maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I’d get into a new relationship in the next few months or maybe it’d take a while. Maybe I’d continue to live in Worcester or instead return to Boston. I didn’t know and didn’t want to think about those things too much, at least not right then.

I also thought about the people who had been a part of my life only a few months earlier, but no longer were. They stayed with me in my heart and mind. Whenever I got a new intake involving a tenant who lived in Washington, Anna and David would enter my thoughts. I never saw either of them again after my visit to Dunkin’ Donuts with Anna, and that saddened me a little. But I recognized that was just a part of life, and I hoped they were both doing well.

It was Sara who occupied my thoughts most of all. I hadn’t talked to her since the day I moved my belongings out of the apartment. The pain from our breakup was still present, but it felt like it was finally lessening its hold on me, so that it was softer and less mournful. Sometimes I’d think of her in Boston walking along the street or sitting in a café and wish that I could be with her, talking and sharing with one another. But more and more, when I thought of her, I’d simply hope that she was doing well. I took it as a sign that I was repairing myself and moving forward.

I followed a small group upstairs to see the apartments there. I imagined women and their children moving into them, filled with joy at having their own place to live, finally safe from their violent pasts. It’s something that most of us never take the time to think about, but man, it’s so fundamentally important to have a roof over one’s head. It’s so important to have a home.