sex—in this building made him feel like a terrible person. And he could not be around Catie without thinking about sex.
Luckily, today was not a particularly busy day. There weren’t any scheduled group therapy sessions, and he’d forgotten that most of the residents were on a field trip to Chelsea Piers.
“This is an empty building,” Catie said.
“It isn’t normally. And I won’t let you into the dormitory areas,” he said. “Look, usually it’s quite busy. This is one of the main recreation areas, where the residents can hopefully relax and socialize.”
She looked around at the well-used ping-pong table, the comfortable looking couches, and the collection of DVDs strewn about in front of the television.
“So these are all runaways? Kids at risk?” she asked.
“Most of them, yes.”
“LGBT kids who’ve been kicked out, drug addicts, abused minors?”
“You seem well-versed.”
“Actors aren’t the most stable bunch. Plus, I used to volunteer.” She was quiet, her fingers pulling at a hole where the stuffing had started to come through the back of a couch. Then, “Suicidal?”
He kept his voice as even as possible. “Yes.”
“How do you manage to avoid the whole social services thing?”
“We have a special pilot program accreditation,” he said.
“Family connections come in handy, huh?”
He rolled his shoulders, as if trying to shrug the association off. “Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes not.”
“Well,” she said, slapping the back of the couch, “this was educational. Where’s the ladies’ room?”
He pointed at the door on the other side of the room, and off she went. Catie had so succeeded in disorienting him that she was gone for a full fifteen minutes before he noticed that something might be wrong. Catie didn’t strike him as a woman who loitered in bathrooms for the fun of it. And she was by herself.
Which was why it was doubly odd that, when he moved to knock on the door, he heard a muffled voice.
And he heard crying.
Under normal circumstances, Jake would have enough presence of mind not to walk into a women’s bathroom. He was not equipped to deal with the human side of Stephan’s House; he knew he would never be anyone’s shoulder to cry on, nor would he be the understanding face who convinced a wary teen to trust again. His role, his usefulness in this world, lay in what he could build with the money and the gifts he’d been given. He could build Stephan’s House, but he could not make it a place that helped people. He had to find others to do that. And he had accepted that about himself, long ago, and so Jake was not the first one to respond when any of the residents was in crisis. He was not the first one to respond when anyone was in crisis.
But he heard tears, and he thought it was Catie in there, crying. And he didn’t think. He simply opened the door.
Catie was there, but she wasn’t crying. She sat next to a painfully thin young woman with stringy, oil-darkened blonde hair who was crying quietly. There were scratch marks on the blonde girl’s arm, raised welts where she’d gauged at herself with something.
Only Catie looked up. The girl still continued to cry, oblivious. He hadn’t made much of a sound as he came in. Catie waited for him, looking at him, wanting him to do something, only he couldn’t think what. And now he stood there, open mouthed, gaping like an idiot, as he watched Catie turn her attention back to the girl in trouble. It was like watching the beam from a lighthouse whip around in a storm and settle on the place where it was needed. What he remembered most as he backed out of the room, careful not to make any noise, was that the look on Catie’s face was one he was coming to know: fear, then bravery, then determination. She bent her head to talk to the crying girl, and Jake knew that she’d seen him for what he truly was: hollow.
chapter 11
Catie thought she’d be happy for something to take her mind
Luckily, today was not a particularly busy day. There weren’t any scheduled group therapy sessions, and he’d forgotten that most of the residents were on a field trip to Chelsea Piers.
“This is an empty building,” Catie said.
“It isn’t normally. And I won’t let you into the dormitory areas,” he said. “Look, usually it’s quite busy. This is one of the main recreation areas, where the residents can hopefully relax and socialize.”
She looked around at the well-used ping-pong table, the comfortable looking couches, and the collection of DVDs strewn about in front of the television.
“So these are all runaways? Kids at risk?” she asked.
“Most of them, yes.”
“LGBT kids who’ve been kicked out, drug addicts, abused minors?”
“You seem well-versed.”
“Actors aren’t the most stable bunch. Plus, I used to volunteer.” She was quiet, her fingers pulling at a hole where the stuffing had started to come through the back of a couch. Then, “Suicidal?”
He kept his voice as even as possible. “Yes.”
“How do you manage to avoid the whole social services thing?”
“We have a special pilot program accreditation,” he said.
“Family connections come in handy, huh?”
He rolled his shoulders, as if trying to shrug the association off. “Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes not.”
“Well,” she said, slapping the back of the couch, “this was educational. Where’s the ladies’ room?”
He pointed at the door on the other side of the room, and off she went. Catie had so succeeded in disorienting him that she was gone for a full fifteen minutes before he noticed that something might be wrong. Catie didn’t strike him as a woman who loitered in bathrooms for the fun of it. And she was by herself.
Which was why it was doubly odd that, when he moved to knock on the door, he heard a muffled voice.
And he heard crying.
Under normal circumstances, Jake would have enough presence of mind not to walk into a women’s bathroom. He was not equipped to deal with the human side of Stephan’s House; he knew he would never be anyone’s shoulder to cry on, nor would he be the understanding face who convinced a wary teen to trust again. His role, his usefulness in this world, lay in what he could build with the money and the gifts he’d been given. He could build Stephan’s House, but he could not make it a place that helped people. He had to find others to do that. And he had accepted that about himself, long ago, and so Jake was not the first one to respond when any of the residents was in crisis. He was not the first one to respond when anyone was in crisis.
But he heard tears, and he thought it was Catie in there, crying. And he didn’t think. He simply opened the door.
Catie was there, but she wasn’t crying. She sat next to a painfully thin young woman with stringy, oil-darkened blonde hair who was crying quietly. There were scratch marks on the blonde girl’s arm, raised welts where she’d gauged at herself with something.
Only Catie looked up. The girl still continued to cry, oblivious. He hadn’t made much of a sound as he came in. Catie waited for him, looking at him, wanting him to do something, only he couldn’t think what. And now he stood there, open mouthed, gaping like an idiot, as he watched Catie turn her attention back to the girl in trouble. It was like watching the beam from a lighthouse whip around in a storm and settle on the place where it was needed. What he remembered most as he backed out of the room, careful not to make any noise, was that the look on Catie’s face was one he was coming to know: fear, then bravery, then determination. She bent her head to talk to the crying girl, and Jake knew that she’d seen him for what he truly was: hollow.
chapter 11
Catie thought she’d be happy for something to take her mind
Similar Books
