Page 26 of Brittle Heart

An employee approaches us and asks Gloria some questions, so I turn to Howie. “What you wanted to say is that it is too soft, right?”

He nods. “I’m used to concrete.”

I lift the linen and place the cardboard signs he wrote on to beg on the street underneath them, ensuring the entire mattress is covered before putting the linen back in place.

I press my hand on the surface and look at him triumphantly. “Feels like our spot.”

Howie sits back down and lies on the bed, shifting around a bit before sitting back up and giving me a smile.

Gloria finishes her conversation and turns back to us. “Are we happy?”

Howie nods, and I smile at her. “More than happy. Thank you so much.”

And it’s true. Howie finally came to terms with it and accepted he will be staying here, lifting a weight off my shoulders.

“I’ll let you get settled. You know where to find me if you need anything. Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes,” she says before turning and leaving us alone.

“It seems like our burger dates will have to wait until spring, but it’s good to know that you’ll be getting more balanced meals now,” I say.

“Don’t you dare talk down on what you do for me daily, kid. I’m not sure I would still be here if it weren’t for you,” he says, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine as he reaches for my hand and gives it a pat. “You know where to find me when you need me,” he continues. “Or when you just want to talk. Don’t be a stranger for the next couple of months.”

“Believe me, I’ll be here so many times you’ll wish you could get a break from me.” I smile.

But he doesn’t laugh. “Never.”

My heart aches a little. I will definitely visit him, but I can’t just barge in here in the middle of the night. If I find a new job, the opportunities to see him will be even less.

“See you around, Howie. Behave,” I tease, taking a step back.

He lies down on the bed but points a finger in the air. “Adult. See you around, kid.”

As I walk out of the shelter, I observe the people around me, noticing that many have a vacant look in their eyes—a look I recognize all too well from my own reflection. I can’t help but think back to the early days after my parents passed away.

The homeless man named Howard, whom I’ve sat beside and shared burgers with over the past week, is staring at me from the side. I try to ignore him, taking deep breaths. But when I can’t take it anymore, I turn to face him, lifting my gaze to meet his, and ask with a frown, “What?”

“Nothing,” he replies, shaking his head.

I bite my lip. We haven’t really spoken much these past few nights. He told me his name, thanked me for the burgers, and wished me goodnight when I left. It was simple, and I liked it that way. I just need a place to unwind. The thought of eating my burger alone after a grueling shift at that dreadful bar makes my heart even heavier than it already is.

I’m always alone lately, even when amidst a crowd.

With him, it feels like he is sitting with me in the darkness without a dawn.

He continues to watch me, so I look down at my hands and start taking deep breaths again.

“What happened?” he asks, tipping his head toward me.

“What should’ve happened?” I reply with a shrug.

“Your soul feels even heavier than usual,” he observes, turning his gaze forward again.

I snort. “And here I was thinking my body was the part that needed to lose some weight.”

He looks at me again, one eyebrow raised, unimpressed. I sigh.

Is it right for me to unload my issues on a homeless man?

“Some guy at school started bullying me,” I whisper.

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