Page 13 of The Road Home
Jared struggled to hide the hurt at the insinuation that he wanted something from Orson. He fought back a frown. "Nothing. Just someone to talk to, eat with, maybe even laugh with. I have no ulterior motives. That's not who I am. This is just dinner between friends, nothing more. I promise." It killed him to think what people had asked for in exchange for things in the past. "Let's go." He nodded toward the diner.
"Okay." Orson still didn't look convinced that this wasn't some ploy to get him in bed or take advantage of him.
He needed to remember Orson's lifestyle and past to make sure he didn't say or do anything to make him think that this was more than it was. Jared got out of the car and locked it as Orson met him at the back of the vehicle. "I think you'll really like this place. I highly suggest the chocolate shakes. They are to die for."
"I don't need much," Orson mumbled as he walked beside him, his eyes cast down as if he was feeling out of place.
Jared glanced over at him. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Yesterday. I managed to get in line for dinner."
"Way too long, and I mean that as a doctor. Tonight, get a good meal. Get two if you want and take one with you for later or for a friend." Jared opened the door for Orson, allowing him to walk inside first. "I'm telling you, once you try the food here, you won't be arguing with me." He paused, waiting for the waitress to seat them.
"You come here a lot?"
"Not often, but that's only because I hate to eat alone, and I work odd hours. I'd be here more often if I could. Most nights it's a frozen dinner in the microwave after a long shift at the hospital."
As they sat down at a small table, Orson glanced up at him. "Did you always want to be a doctor?"
"Yeah, I can't remember not wanting to be one. I grew up in a small town in Montana. My uncle was the doctor there. I used to watch him, hear people talk about how amazing he was, and hear how he helped so many people. I wanted to do that too." Jared smiled. "What about you? What was your dream before your parents messed things up?"
Orson looked surprised.
"What?"
"You blame my parents, not me?"
"Of course. You were just being you, right? You didn't do anything wrong. It was your parents who decided there were stipulations on being their child. That's not the way parenthood should be." Jared couldn't imagine ever casting his child out, no matter the reason.
"I guess I'm used to people telling me I should have changed or hidden it." Orson's shoulders slumped.
The conversation was hitting too close to home. How was he supposed to admit to Orson that he had decided to hide it, and now he had a good job, a home, and a much better life than Orson did on the streets? How was he supposed to tell him that even with all that, he fucked up by hiding, was still fucking up and denying who he was? "So, what did you want to be?"
Orson's cheeks heated. "It's stupid."
"Nothing is stupid, especially dreams."
"Well…" Orson took a deep breath. "I was hoping to perform. I used to play the cello, and I was going to apply to Juilliard, but when I had to leave home, my parents wouldn't let me take anything but clothes. I had to stop playing."
It was the most emotional he'd seen Orson get. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. That alone told Jared how important music had been in his life. "Wow, that's amazing. You must have been good to even think about Juilliard. I learned piano when I was younger, but was never any good. I wish I had a cello so I could hear you play."
Again, Orson blushed. "I'm not even sure I still could."
"Talent doesn't die. It's like riding a bike. Once you know how, you always remember." Jared paused as the waitress took their orders. He was glad to hear Orson get a good-sized meal, and even add a chocolate shake.
Once the waitress left them, he sat back in his chair, hoping Orson would relax a little too. "So, tell me about this program you're on a waiting list for."
"I don't know much about it. I guess it's an apartment complex where they help you get a job and have other resources right at the location. You have to pay a small amount of rent, stay employed, and submit to drug tests and all that stuff. It would be perfect for me, but I'm sure the list is a mile long."
"I read something about that. Some philanthropist is running the program with the state's help. I didn't read the whole thing, but I think he owns a couple popular restaurants in the area."
"I'm not getting my hopes up. She also said there were other jobs that come available from time to time. I'm supposed to check with her every Monday afternoon to see about those. It didn't sound too hopeful."
Jared hated that he couldn't do anything to help him. He'd always figured most homeless people weren't willing to work, but he saw the look in Orson's eyes when he talked about the program. Jared really believed that Orson wanted to change his life. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."
"Thanks. I don't know what I'll do if I can't get something. I guess I'll have to find a way back to Arizona or maybe Denver. I don't know."
"Why now?" Jared asked. "You've been on the streets for three years. What's changed that you suddenly are trying so hard to get in a program now? Couldn't you do that years ago?"
