Starting Point (11 page)

He nodded. “You better see what she wants.”

“Okay.”

She was standing in the hall holding her dirty clothes, wearing my shirt that came to her knees, with a towel wrapped around her hair. She looked tiny.

And scared.

“Feel better?” I asked brightly, my outward confidence belying the internal insecurity I felt. I had no clue what I was doing. What the hell were we thinking? Bringing a small kid back to our house? I mean, fuck! The ramifications could be catastrophic.

Maybe this was what Kira was livid about. Maybe he saw what I didn’t. Maybe he was right. Fuck.

“Um, what do you want me to do with these?” she asked, holding out her dirty clothes.

“Um, how about I do you a swap?” I asked. Walking to the linen press, I pulled out a blanket. “Here, wrap this around you to keep yourself nice and warm, and I’ll put your clothes in the wash.”

I flicked out the blanket and draped it around her little shoulders. It was hardly cold, but I figured it would make her feel safe. She was, after all, now in a strange house with two strange men.

Oh, fuck. What have I done…

“How about we see what’s on the TV,” I said, leading her towards the sofa. “Park yourself up there and you can flip through the channels. I’ll just go put these in the wash.”

I left her to it, then I threw her clothes in the washing machine, adding extra soap hoping it would get rid of the ingrained dirt and smell. When I walked back out to the living room, Kira was handing Claude a drink. She peeled her hands out of the blanket. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Dinner won’t be long,” he said walking back into the kitchen, to either me or Claude, I wasn’t sure.

His reaction was baffling, and I knew we would talk it through, maybe when Claude was asleep. Right now, we had to focus on the little girl who, if we’d not intervened, would have spent the night alone in a dumpster.

“Whatcha watching?” I asked, nodding towards the flat screen.

Claude shrugged. “Not sure.” She picked up the remote and kept scrolling through the cable channels. I don’t think she had any idea what she was watching. She obviously wasn’t too familiar with any shows on TV.

We stared at the screen for a while, until Kira walked in carrying a tray with two bowls. He put the tray on Claude’s lap. “It’s hot, so be careful,” he said. His tone still had an edge, but had softened somewhat. Kira took one bowl off the tray and handed it to me. It was a mix of shredded meat, potato, noodle and vegetables in a broth.

Claude looked into the bowl. “What is it?”

“It’s nikujaga,” Kira told her. He sat down on the opposite sofa. “It’s something my mom would make for me.”

She lifted the spoon to her lips and sipped the broth. She hummed. “It’s real good.”

“It’s Japanese,” Kira said. “It’s what my mother would call a…” He glanced at me, and his voice softened, “…a comfort food.”

I smiled at him. He’d been indifferent to Claude being here, but made a point of making a meal his mom probably made from him. It was confusing, if anything, but I didn’t question his gesture.

I stirred my dinner, although I was barely hungry, and sipped the broth. It was tangy and sweet, and somehow soothing.

“Are you not having any?” I asked Kira.

He shook his head. “I had a late lunch.” I doubted that was exactly true. I guessed he’d lost his appetite as well.

Claude, on the other hand, devoured hers. We watched as the little girl, with her tiny arms poking out of her blanket cocoon, took mouthful after mouthful of meat, vegetables and noodles until she couldn’t eat any more.

I took her plate on the tray and slid it onto the coffee table. “Feel better?” I asked her.

She nodded. “It was really good, thank you,” she said, looking at Kira. “Matt always says you’re a good cook.”

Kira kind of smiled at that, and I figured now was the best time to bring this up. “Claude, where was Ruby tonight?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he’d be back, but he’s not normally that late.”

“Have you spent other nights alone?” I asked.

Claude shrugged again, like it was no big deal. “Sometimes.”

“Where do you stay?” Kira asked. “If Ruby’s not there.”

Claude didn’t answer for a while. A dozen emotions flickered across her face—among them sadness, anger, defiance. I wondered if she’d been told not to say anything on the subject.

“Claude,” I said softly. “Where do you go, even if Ruby’s with you? Where do you sleep? Have you guys got a home? Or a mom or dad?”

The little girl’s eyes went to her lap, and she tucked her arms back into her blanket as though the question made her cold. Again, she didn’t answer for a long moment, and I guessed she didn’t want to.

“It’s okay,” Kira said quietly. “You don’t have to say anything.”

She stared mindlessly at the television for another long moment, and just when I thought she’d shut down completely, that we’d pushed too far, her tiny voice cut through the room.

“No one wanted us.”

No one wanted us.
I allowed those words to turn over in my head, not quite believing what I’d heard.

“Me and Ruby,” she continued. “It’s just us.”

“Oh, Claude,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “That’s not true.”

She looked at me then, and smiled bravely. “Yeah. It is. It’s just been me and Ruby for a while, and that’s okay. We do okay.”

“I’m sure you do,” I replied, trying to smile.

“Ruby says we shouldn’t go to the shelters because they’ll put us into homes and separate us,” she said, as though it was something all nine-year-old kids should know.

“He’s pretty smart your brother,” I said, trying to cheer her up a little.

“He is,” she agreed brightly. “He finds us somewhere warm and dry, and so no one finds us. One time, he found whole packets of cookies that someone didn’t want. They were chocolate and I ate so many I got sick.”

Kira stood up from the sofa, snatched the tray off the coffee table and walked into the kitchen. Claude didn’t see it, but I did—the way Kira’s lip trembled and how he set his jaw, how his nostrils flared, how his eyes were wild and glassy.

“You must be tired, huh?” I asked Claude. “How about I get you a pillow and another blanket and you can crash on the sofa? We’ve got a busy day tomorrow you and me,” I told her.

I grabbed a pillow and a blanket throw from the spare room and made her a makeshift bed on the sofa. “You right, squirt?” I asked.

She nodded, and before I could walk into the kitchen, she asked, “Do you think Ruby’s okay?”

I gave her my most convincing smile. “I’m sure he is. We’ll find him first thing in the morning, okay?”

Claude nodded again and closed her eyes, so I walked into the kitchen to find Kira with his hands on the counter top and his head bowed.

I rubbed his shoulder. “Babe, are you okay?”

He turned to face me and ran his fingers through his hair. He shook his head and exhaled loudly. “No one wanted her, Matt. That’s what she said. That no one wanted her. It’s not right that a kid even knows what that means.” His eyes welled with tears. “It’s not right, Matt.”

“I know.”

“She’s eaten food from a trash can,” he whispered. “She ate food that someone else threw away.” His tears threatened to spill. “Matt, that’s just,” he groaned. “It’s so wrong.”

I took his face in my hands and pressed my lips to his forehead. “Kira, babe.” I wiped a stray tear. “I thought you were mad.”

“I was,” he said, exhaling loudly. “I mean, I am. I’m so mad at this whole mess. It’s not fair, Matt. She’s just a kid.” His eyes glistened with fresh tears. “She was going to sleep in that bin.”

I ran the pads of my thumbs over his face, and kissed his temple, his cheek. “I know.”

“Do you think her brother’s okay?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“We have to do something.”

“I know.”

“What
can
we do though?” he asked. “She said herself they won’t go into a home in case they get split up.”

“Claude’s safe tonight,” I offered.

“Is that enough?”

“It’s a start.”

“Matt—”

“Sshhh,” I said, kissing him quiet. “It’s the best we can do today, and it’s a start.”

Kira sighed and leaned his forehead on mine. His eyes were closed, his eyelashes were wet. “When did you get so smart?”

“It’s all I can do,” I said softly. “The enormity of homeless kids, Kira, it’s too much. If you let yourself be overwhelmed by it all, it’ll break your heart. But one or two kids, one day at a time…”

He gave me a watery smile, and sighed. “I can’t believe I cooked her nikujaga for dinner.”

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice for a kid, but she loved it.”

Kira smiled, though it was still traced with sadness. “It was something my mom used to cook,” he said again. “It was something she’d cook if I’d come home wet and cold, or if I’d had a bad day… I wanted Claude to… It was the first thing I thought of to give her. I thought if I were her, what would I want to eat…”

I kissed his cheek then his lips. It was the most lost for words, the most torn I’d seen him in a long while. “Then it was perfect.”

Kira pulled me against him, slid his arms around my back and sighed again. “Where’s her parents?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, pulling back so I could see his face. “Every time I’ve asked, she’s gone quiet on me. What she said tonight is the most she’s ever told me about that part of her life, so I really don’t know. But I think tomorrow I should try and find out.”

* * * *

The next morning when I woke up, Kira was already out of bed. There was the sound of conversation coming from the kitchen. And a smell that had me out of bed in a heartbeat.

Bacon.

I walked into the kitchen, still half asleep. Kira was standing at the stove, while Claude sat at the table. She wore her now-clean clothes from yesterday, her unruly hair was exactly that and her smile was bright.

After she’d fallen asleep on the sofa, Kira and I had double-checked the windows and doors were locked, and we must have checked on her a dozen times—just to see if she was okay. She had slept soundly. We, unfortunately, had not.

We’d eventually got into bed and talked a bit more about Claude and Ruby, what their lives must be like, and when Kira did eventually fall asleep, it was fitful at best. I spent most of the night as the big spoon, to a very restless little spoon.

He was up before me, standing all sleep-rumpled at the stove, turning strips of bacon in a pan. I smiled back at Claude, and standing behind Kira, I kissed his shoulder. “Bacon?” I asked. “How come I never get bacon?”

“You don’t eat breakfast,” he replied.

“I eat bacon.”

Kira chuckled, though he still didn’t turn around. “Claude, can you set the table, please?” he asked. “Plates are in that cupboard,” he said, pointing the tongs to that particular cupboard door. “Knives and forks are in the top drawer.”

Kira was undoubtedly moved last night by the weight of this little girl’s troubles, but here he was giving her orders. Claude happily hopped down off the chair and did as she’d been asked. I retrieved the juice and milk from the fridge, grabbed some glasses and we sat back down at the table, facing each other.

“Sleep well, squirt?”

“Sure did. Did you?” she asked. “’Cause you look tired.”

“I’m okay,” I told her. “I always look like this before I have coffee.”

Kira pulled a tray out of the oven and sat it in the middle of the table. “These have been keeping warm,” he said. There were poached eggs and slices of toast, and he put the plate of bacon on the table alongside the tray, and sat down.

I couldn’t believe it. “Wow.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Kira said. “Claude was hungry. I thought she might appreciate a cooked breakfast, rather than yogurt and fruit.”

Underneath the table, I ran my foot along his, as silent thanks. I transferred some bacon, eggs and toast to my plate, as did Claude, and I watched as she took her first mouthful.

“Oh my God,” she said, still with food in her mouth. “Kira, your dinner was good, but breakfast is
real
good.”

Kira smiled, but it was short lived. He did little more than push some bacon around his plate with a fork. “Claude, can I ask you something?” he said.

She looked at him, then at me and continued to chew her food.

Kira took her silence as a yes. “I get why you don’t want to go to a shelter, or to a home, I get that. I really do. You don’t want some authorities splitting you and Ruby up, and that’s fair enough. But, Claude, sleeping in a dumpster is never a good thing…”

Claude put down her fork and swallowed her breakfast. “Not everyone’s got a home, ya know. Sorry it bothers you, but me and Ruby are doin’ the best we can.” She pushed her plate away. “Anyways, Ruby says it’s best to stay hidden. Where no people can see me, or take me. And the bins are warm and dry. You might not like it, but it don’t matter none what you think.”

Kira frowned. “I’m not judging you, Claude,” he said patiently. “I am worried for you, that’s all. Next time Ruby’s not there, or if you’re alone or scared, or if it’s raining, you can go to the FC and ask for Matt, okay? They’re open till late, and if he’s not there, they can call him. Okay?”

Claude blinked a few times and frowned. “I’d like to go find Ruby now. If that’s okay.” Her voice was quiet.

Even though it was too early for the club to open, fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed for the day, we were on our way to the FC. With a few hours before Kira had to work, he insisted on coming with us. Claude had one of my old backpacks filled with my shirt she’d slept in, a bottle of water, some food Kira had given her, plus the wrapped left-over bacon and toast for her brother. If we could even find him.

I didn’t dare say anything to Claude about the likelihood of Ruby not being found. It scared me to think of what would happen to her if he went missing.

But my concerns were unfounded.

We’d no sooner got out of the car and were opening the doors to the club when Ruby came running across the street.

He was obviously worried, and relieved to see his little sister. He threw his arms around her. “My God, Claude, I was so worried. Where the hell were you?”