Page 13 of Ethan

"Hey, Lucas. How have you been?" I accepted his extended hand and gave it a firm shake. Dignity. It's the least I could offer one of the residents who found themselves living down here.

Lucas was a regular. It was hard to tell how old he was. Maybe mid-thirties. He'd been living rough for years, I'm sure. But he was always dressed nicely. Even if his clothes were a bit dirty.

The sunbaked man liked to be stylish and typically sported a bleached mohawk and eyeliner. I noticed he had on brand-new shoes and wondered when he got them. There always seemed to be an abundance of newer clothing and shoes being dropped off by the community.

Lucas was right up on me after the handshake. I took a half-step back. The pungent smell coming off him was overpowering. I knew the deal with the public shelter showers. You could only book them once every two weeks. And you only got fifteen minutes under the spray.

"Planning on going into drug treatment," Lucas announced.

I smiled at him. "Awesome! Good for you." I didn't mention that he had been telling me that for months and yet twice a week, he was still here.

"Can I give you a hand?" he asked.

"Sure." Lucas always helped me carry the boxes. His reward was me locating a chocolate chip cookie for him. I lifted the back hatch of my car and we each took a box. I locked up and we walked across the street to Our Place. Someone held the door open for us.

The head coordinator, Vincent, was behind the shielded desk. He'd become a good friend; I saw him so often. We set the boxes on the donation table, and I found Lucas' cookie.

He was off with a wave.

I leaned against the counter, peering in past the plexiglass. Vincent slid the panels apart, creating a two-foot space, and grinned at me. "How's the sunshine man today?"

I laughed. It was Vincent's nickname for me. Sunshine man. I couldn't help that I smiled more than most people. I found everyday things to be wonderous and amusing. Unless I was in one of my low periods. Then it was impossible to find any joy in everyday life.

"I have been having an excellent weekend. You?"

Vincent's expression changed to frowning with his brow dipped. "We're still recovering."

"From what?"

"Goddamned bylaw swept through here three days ago. Gave everyone fifteen minutes to pack up their stuff then went in and threw tents, sleeping bags, clothes … everything into a dumpster."

"Fuck." I dragged my hand through my hair. "Why do they do that?"

"Because they're heartless bastards. These people have nowhere else to go. Those were their homes the city so thoughtlessly trashed. It would be different if there was housing available, but there's not. Throwing away everything someone owns is not going to get them off the street."

"What do you need?"

"God, I don't know. The community has stepped up, bringing down clothes and sleeping bags and handing them out. There are a few people without tents still, though."

I fished my phone out of my pocket. "Just give me a sec."

I opened a group text.

Me: Emergency situation at the homeless shelter.

Liam: What's up?

Me: Bylaw did a sweep. Took everything.

Noah: Assholes.

Owen: How can we help?

Me: Could you each buy a tent to donate?

Noah: I can grab us five. Brody will want to contribute too. You can all pay me back."

Liam: I think Canadian Tire has a sale on.

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