Never Too Late : A Romantic Story (2 page)

The inside was cool but a bit musty. Long ago yellowed white walls cascaded down into lon
g
hallways. She reaffirmed the idea that this place had once been a school. Fluorescen
t
lightings already caused her to feel nauseous, which didn't help as it compounded with ho
w
she already felt. A woman sat at a small reception desk in front of her, and she walked up
,
with her hands folded over each other. The woman was an elderly woman with short, gray hai
r
and glasses, but she looked up and smiled and seemed content with her lot. Amy immediatel
y
wished she had something like that when she was this woman's age. "Hello, sweetie. Can I hel
p
you?"

"My name's Amy," she said. "I'm here to volunteer."

"Ah, wonderful." The woman asked for Amy's last name and began to dig through a small fil
e
she had on the desk. "It's always nice to see young people help with this kind of thing
.
Speaks well of your generation." She said this as she had her nose buried in the file. I
t
didn't seem as if the glasses really did anything to help improve her vision. 

"Thanks," she said sheepishly. She looked down at her outfit. Jeans and a t-shirt. Was thi
s
the proper attire for someone volunteering? Was she going to be going to a soup kitche
n
today? Tomorrow? Was she even going there at all? All the questions did was make he
r
uncomfortable, but she held her ground until the woman nodded with satisfaction and pulle
d
loose a piece of paper.

"Please read this over and sign." She indicated a couple of desk chairs that had been hastil
y
shoved against the near wall, and handed her a pen. "Once that's done we'll get to work o
n
placing you somewhere."

Amy sat and read over the paper, which was a questionnaire. It asked simple things, like "Ar
e
you comfortable around people in less fortunate financial situations?" and "Would you b
e
willing to go into neighborhoods that are considered by some to be unsafe?" Amy thought th
e
entire thing worded the questions oddly, as if trying to weasel its way past her defenses.

She wound up checking the "Yes" box more often than not, and handed the sheet back. The woma
n
looked surprised as she read it over.

"You're rather open to these experiences for someone who just signed up the other day." Am
y
shrugged. "Well, alright, let's get you started then." The woman turned to her computer,
a
weathered old Dell by the name on the side, and started clicking. For a few minutes she wen
t
on, saying nothing but an occasional, "Hmm," as she went. Finally, with a smile, definit
e
nod, and a few accentuated keystrokes, she turned back to Amy. "We need someone to hel
p
organize our group's activities in the local area. Would you be willing to lend a hand? It'
s
a great place to start. The people there would be able to help you and get you acclimated t
o
the way things work around here."

"Sure," Amy said, not at all feeling sure. "That sounds great."

"Wonderful." She printed out a small piece of paper and handed it to Amy. "Head down thi
s
hall," she pointed to the left, "and at the end, head up the stairs, then turn right at th
e
top and go to the fourth door on the left." Amy nodded along, trying to plot out the route i
n
some sort of mental map. She thanked the woman and continued on.

By the time she got to the top of the steps, she was lost. She scolded herself for not bein
g
able to follow simple directions, and they really had been nothing but simple. The halls
,
those seemingly simple, were anything but. Amy got the impression that the building was
a
box, but that inside the halls crisscrossed like a spider's web. She passed through what sh
e
thought was an empty hall, going over the woman's directions in her head again. She rounded
a
corner and bumped into someone.

She inhaled shapely, jumping back and holding up her hands in reflex. "Whoa," the guy who
m
she'd ran into said. "Sorry about that."

"No, no," she said, her heart rate lowering and her breathing calming, "it's my fault." Sh
e
looked up at him then, and saw deep green eyes that looked surprised. "You?"

"You?" Cale held a small box under his arm and against his side. Rather than the clothes he'
d
worn in the club, he had on simple jeans, and a decent looking button down opened over
a
white undershirt. It clung to him just a bit too tightly. "Amy, right?"

"Y-yeah," she managed, then frowned. "What're you doing here? I thought you work in a bank?"

"I do work in a bank," he said. "I volunteer here. No one works here, save for Carrie and th
e
lady at the front desk. And I wouldn't really call it work."

"Right," she said. "Sorry." Then she blushed. What was she apologizing for? For not callin
g
him? He shouldn't have left his number for someone who was already taken. And she had clearl
y
been taken, with Brad putting his arm around her like he had. "Hey, about-" 

But he cut her off. "Sorry about what I did that night," he said. "It was a bit out of line.

I didn't mean to put you in a bad place." He seemed remorseful too. "Just thought you'
d
might like someone to talk to."

"I do have people to talk to," she lied.

He smiled and nodded. "Good, that's good." He seemed to consider the matter settled, as h
e
juggled the package under his arm back to a decent height. "So I guess you've only jus
t
signed up?" She shrugged and nodded. "That's great. But you look a little lost."

"Yeah," Amy said, "I was supposed to help people organize something or other."

"Really?" Cale asked. "That's the group I'm in." He walked past her. "Come on, I'll show yo
u
the way. Misses Cameron, the lady at the front desk, can give some crazy direction
s
sometimes."

"I noticed that," she said, and felt a little better. Cale continued to beckon her, and sh
e
followed, happy at least, to have someone who knew where he was going with her.

They wound their way through the halls, and Amy picked out a few landmarks she convince
d
herself she would remember for next time. The room they entered must've once been
a
classroom, as it had a number of discarded bits of desks shoved into the corner, and a marke
r
board at the front. On it, in red marker, were a number of lists and arrows and times an
d
dollar amounts. It all seemed like gibberish to Amy, but she figured it made sense to th
e
people in the room, because they had gathered around each and were offering critiques an
d
adjustments, while nodding their heads in agreement with one another.

"Hey guys," Cale said. The group actually had more girls than guys. There were twelve of the
m
in total. Eight girls, and four guys, including Cale. Most wore plain t-shirts and jeans, bu
t
a few wore things even more ratty. Those individuals also sported odd haircuts and facia
l
grooming. None of them really seemed interested in Amy and Cale, but the rest turned an
d
smiled. As Cale explained the situation of Amy's arrival, they each welcomed her in turn, and let her know that what she was doing was a great thing. Cale just smiled and watched as sh
e
got introduced to everyone, as if he were a proud parent.

"So," someone who introduced himself as Jacob asked, "what brings you to Carrie's?"

Amy found herself without a real answer. She wanted to find herself? That sounded ridiculous.

"I just wanted to help."

"Oh good," Jacob said, smiling across the room at Cale. "I thought you might be here to fin
d
yourself, like Cale over there."

"Hey," Cale shot back, still grinning. "Don't pretend that's not why all of us are here."

"Some of us have more altruistic motives than our own self-satisfaction," one of the oddl
y
dressed girls said.

"I'm not sure you used that word correctly," Cale replied without missing a step. "Bu
t
whatever. Besides, we're all after the same goals." He turned to the board. "So what've w
e
decided?"

"Just relax and listen for now," Jacob told Amy. "No one's expecting you to jump in with an
y
crazy new ways of helping the less fortunate on your first day." She nodded and did her bes
t
to follow along. It became more difficult when Cale took the seat next to her, and smiled a
t
her quickly before turning back to the board.

The council, as they identified themselves, read off their minutes. They had decided to spen
d
so much money on certain activities, and to throw others on the backburner. Amy got th
e
impression there was a certain tradition and efficiency with what they handled. Soup kitchen
s
and charity drives were number one, other things fell by the general wayside or were promise
d
to be reviewed later. She followed as closely as she could, but by the end, her head wa
s
spinning. 

When they all adjourned, Cale pulled her aside as they were all filing out. "You did wel
l
today."

"But I didn't do anything."

He shrugged. "Sometimes you get these morons who come in here and try and change up th
e
status quo. You were more like a sponge. Absorbing." She blushed. "That's a good thing."

"That's still not something a person wants to hear," she said.

He laughed. "Sorry. But hey listen, want to grab some food? I don't know about you, but I'
m
starving."

Amy felt uncomfortable to say the least, but she choked out a quick refusal. "S-sorry, mayb
e
some other time."

"Tomorrow's another time," Cale said, undeterred. "Would you like to grab some food tomorrow?"

"Look," Amy said, turning towards him. She suddenly felt a lot more confident than she had i
n
the past few months. "I appreciate it, but I don't need you to help or save me, okay?"

For once, the smile on Cale's face faded. "O-okay."

"I did this because I wanted to help people," she lied. "Not to find a new boyfriend, or mak
e
new friends or get myself out of some place I didn't want to be."

"Okay, Amy. I'm sorry." He had taken a step away from her. For some reason that made Amy eve
n
angrier.

"I didn't like that you wrote your number down on that piece of paper. I threw it out as soo
n
as I got home. I didn't like that you embarrassed me in front of Brad, and I don't like ho
w
you're acting towards me now."

"I get it, alright?" Cale was trying to talk over her now, in an effort to stop her. "I ge
t
it."

"Well good." Amy turned and walked down the street towards the subway she'd take to get home
.

She lived with a few roommates, none of whom were friends, but may have questioned he
r
absence. Brad would be coming over later, she knew, and she wanted to get back before h
e
showed up and started flirting with one of her roommates.

She looked back, once. Cale stood on the corner where she'd left him, watching her go. H
e
didn't look sad or confused or even happy. He wore a calm frown, like he was contemplatin
g
something. She scowled and looked away. 

When she reached the subway terminal, she pulled out her wallet and removed her MetroCar
d
from the pocket. When she did, a slip of crumpled paper slid out and dropped to the floor.

She reached down and picked it back up, before moving through the turnstile. It was the pape
r
with Cale's number on it. She glared at it as if she glared at him. So she had lied an
d
hadn't thrown it out. So what? Feeling even more foolish, she crumpled it back up and slid i
t
back into her wallet, which she slid back into her pants.