Jessa
October, 2017

They same home is where the heart is, but is that really the truth? Or is it only the truth for the people that are born lucky enough? I debated this often, because what about the ones without a place to call home?

I knew much about this after seeing hundreds of homeless men and woman around my city living under bridges and highways, each and every one of them having joy grown upon their sweaty faces at the sight of food, and even blankets for the cold nights to come this upcoming winter.

It's been three years since I've started volunteering in homeless shelters across my city, and I loved every second of it.

My mother told me to do it because it would make me look good on college applications. And honestly, hearing that as a freshman in high school seemed useless to me, for college seemed so far away. But I was now a senior and I finally fully understood what she meant.

My mother, a woman with strict rules and a love for that damned green paper that's taken over this world, preached to me as much as she could about how money, getting a good education, getting married and having children was all I needed to accomplish in life.

I nod when she tells me these things, but secretly disagree. Very much disagree, actually. Her mindset is very old fashioned, whereas now a days things are different. Times have changed.

I watched as she tucked a strand of her dark brunette hair behind her ear as she looked in the small mirror that hung on the wall beside the front door of our two story home. She ran her fingertips over the wrinkles that rest in the corner of her sleepy eyes, and I thought back to last night at around midnight when herself and my father were fighting, per usual.

My father owns a business, however he isn't exactly home all of the time. I only see him at dinner, and sometimes if I'm lucky I see him in the mornings as well before he went off to work. It didn't phase me, though. For others had it much worse.

"I hope you aren't going to wear that. You're showing a little, no, a lot." She said to me sharply, turning towards me before pointing a painted red nail in the direction of my chest.

I looked down at the light brown skin of my cleavage, not seeing what the issue was. I was wearing a tank top and god damn shorts for gods sake and was very confused at what the problem with it was. However at the same time, I was very well used to that sentence:
"I hope you aren't going to wear that."

"It hot outside, I'm fine." I replied, pushing my dark hair over my shoulder.

"And you didn't even bother to blow dry your hair knowing you had to volunteer today?" She complained once again, rolling her eyes with a frown plastered upon her thin lips that she attempted to make look bigger with lip liner.

I thought back to when I swam in our pool earlier, floating on my back and enjoying the warm weather before it grew cold like it was bound to in a month or two from now.

I watched the blue sky with the white cotton candy clouds floating above me, and pictured how my future was going to look. I'm very afraid at times simply because I despise knowing the unknown. I hate not knowing what's gonna happen a year from now.

"I'll only be gone for a few hours, it doesn't matter." I told her, ignoring her annoyed stare and following behind her as she opened the front door. But of course not before re-applying her lipstick for what seemed like the thousandth time this hour.

Yes, she is my mother. But we're nothing alike.

She didn't reply to what I said as we made it to her car, but instead  concentrated on her work phone that she always had glued to the palm of her hand. When we sat inside of her silver Kia though, she put it away and set her focused eyes on the road. I had my own car that I got for my previous birthday, but she wanted me to save money by letting her drive me to the homeless shelter since she went to work directly after anyways. She works an incredibly boring job, something with insurance.

She's very smart, though. Now that I think about it she's smart at everything.
Almost everything. Everything except the ways of life, for not everything was about money. And if I told her that today she'd laugh in my face and tell me otherwise.

I mean, yeah, it's a large part, but I wish she'd understand that it's not everything. Because god, money makes her cruel at times.

After ten long minutes of listening to my mothers put-me-to-sleep church music, we finally arrived to the homeless shelter in which I volunteered at.

I made the greatest of friends here, I thought as I stepped out of my mothers car and stared up at the red brick building. Groups of volunteers stood in the front, boxes of canned goods and blankets in hand to give to the ones in need of them. My eyes quickly darted to my usual group that consisted of four people including myself, Natalie, Marc and Reece.

"Jess!" Natalie waved and smiled before the boys, Marc and Reece, had their heads quickly turned in my direction.

"Hey guys!" I shouted back before closing my mothers car door, waving goodbye to her afterward.

Reece immediately embraced me in a hug like he always did as I walked up to my group, and honestly, his hugs were what I usually looked forward to first each time I arrived here. He was a caramel skinned church boy with a killer smile, a smile that had every girl in our high school buckle at the knees.

"All right all right break it up." Natalie smiled and rolled her eyes after noticing the hug was longer than normal. When we released from our embrace I noticed that she was struggling to carry two boxes of canned food that were stacked on top of each other.

"Here's your box Jess, I got it for ya."

"Oh thank you! I'm sorry I ran a little late, my mom took forever to get ready." I rolled my eyes and grabbed the box from Natalie's arms.

"Wish I could have saw her, she drove away too quick." Marc said jokingly, putting his hand over his heart and shaking his head. He's always joked about how he thought my mom was "hot" or a "milf," as he so lovingly puts it.

He's the guy in the group that made gross jokes and made us all laugh constantly, every group needed someone like Marc.

I punched him in the shoulder with my free hand, "You're gross you know that right?" I laughed along with Nat and Reece before the loud whistle of the owner of the homeless shelter sounded from around us, causing us to look in her direction.

"Alright guys, you're free to go! Be safe!" She yelled out to everybody, and an excited tingle ran through my body like it always did before we went off.

We all quickly went to the parking lot and squeezed into Marc's white mustang. Yes, mustang.

He was the wealthiest of the group, and his only flaw was bragging about it constantly. His mom was the one that began making him volunteer just a year earlier due to him acting out. He's spoiled rotten and is not always humble about it.

Natalie though, was a lot like me in the way that she was here for the same reasons as I was. And Marc, well, we all believe he just wants to be away from his home, for his parents don't always treat him well. It's amazing how the saddest of people behind closed doors, are always the happiest in open ones.
However, I knew it was just a mask to cover up the truth.

-

We arrived down town in a matter of about twenty minutes. Down town was home to so many homeless men and women, and we liked to come here the most due to how many people there were to help.

The only rule was that we couldn't ever be alone. So Natalie and I always went together while Marc and Reece went the opposite direction as us, then an hour or so later we would all meet back at Marc's car and tell each other every heartfelt detail that occurred like we usually did.

"Alright, so we'll meet you guys back here in an hour?" Marc gestured to his car that was parallel parked on a curb beside a run down cafe.

"Sounds good." I smiled, adjusting the cardboard box of goods in my arms that we just unloaded.

And just like that, we were off to the streets.

We found a tattood man with a grey beard and his dog first. We wished we could somehow bring them back to the homeless shelter, but sadly it was full to the max due to the upcoming winter season. It broke my heart.

We gave him enough canned food for him and his dog, and then two blankets for each of them. "God bless you girls." He said to us.

The rest of the men we saw were alone and on street corners and in alley ways. Only one this time refused the food and demanded money, which actually happened a lot. And the last person for the day, the one we were with now, was a woman. She was sitting right by a street light near the busy road with a cardboard sign asking for food.

While Natalie talked to the woman and handed her cans, I suddenly began to hear yelling from across the street under a concrete bridge. I looked behind the woman to see three men surrounding another man that was sitting underneath the bridge, I then saw them shove the man before the yelling got louder. A shiver raked down my spine.

They were too far for me to hear what they were saying, but I knew very quickly that it was a fight.

I watched as the man that was sitting down get up before shoving the other guy dressed in baggy black clothes in the chest. And what happened next, had me already walking towards them without really thinking about how dangerous it could be. They punched the man in the face while the other guy kneed him in his stomach, knocking him to the ground before stealing his things. His things that appeared to be a small blanket and about three cans of soup. And after that, they were gone.

"Jessa? What are you doing?" Natalie called for me after noticing I had left her.

"I'll be right back, stay there." I turned my head and shouted at her, knots forming in my stomach at the sight of the mans body just laying there helplessly.

"Sir!" I yelled, my voice shaky and my stomach uneasy. He didn't move.

I finally got close enough to see him, but his face was down and his body was shaking. He was wearing a torn and dirtied gray long sleeve shirt and worn, ripped jeans with dirt smeared on them. He was surrounded by the litter of the city, trash was everywhere under this bridge.

I took in a deep and shaky breath and touched his shoulder, his head surprisingly lifting up right after. His eyes were full of fear and anger, they were so dark and so broken, and it broke me just to see it.

My eyes went over his features very quickly. He had milky white skin and dark walnut brown hair that was so dark it was almost black. It was fallen over half of his eyes before he pushed it back with his large, veiny hand and sat up. He looked very young, to my surprise. Young and very good looking despite the blood dipping from his freshly busted lip. His hands then clamped on his stomach that was just seconds ago kicked in, and he winced in pain.

"Oh my god," I whispered, not knowing what to do or say to help.

"What the hell do you want?" He spat, wiping the blood off of his lip with the back of his hand.

I kept my eyes on the blood that was now smeared on his hand, and tried my hardest to think of what to say next.

Why did I even come, I asked myself, feeling very stupid.

"I saw what happened and I, uh," I froze, not knowing what to do as he made direct eye contact with me.

"Listen, unless you're here to suck my dick, you can fuck off." He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the concrete wall behind him. I was shocked by his words, like literally, mouth opened wide shocked. I chose to forget what he just said, for obvious reasons.

I didn't respond, but instead realized what I could do. I grabbed my box of canned goods from beside
me and slowly opened it.

"Just take this." I said after a good minute or two of silence, the only thing
being heard was passing vehicles and obnoxious car horns. I set about five cans of food in front of him as well as a blanket.

"I don't need your damn charity." He said, visibly swallowing a forming lump in his throat at the sight of the food. He wanted it badly, he needed it badly, I could tell.

"Well you're gonna take it, you're probably starving." I said to him sharply after finally swallowing my fear and meeting his eye contact.

He raised a brow, but didn't say anything else. And neither did I, for I was ready to leave.

I quickly got up and picked up my box, awkwardly turning around to go back to Natalie that was staring at me from a distance with her hands on her hips.

"Hey," he said as I began to walk away. I stopped in my tracks and turned my head, curious at what he was going to say to me this time. Would it be another rude remark? Probably.

"Be careful carrying that thing around, people around here are fucking crazy." He told me, and he almost sounded kind and worried in a way.
Almost.

I looked down at the four cans that were left in the box, and after a few moments I turned around completely and set it down in front of the mysterious man. He looked down from the box and then back up to me, a small smile forming at the corners of his bleeding lips.

"You just trying to get me jumped again?" He chuckled, but dragged the box closer to him anyways.

I fought back a smile, wondering how he could be even the slightest bit humorous after what just happened to him.

And after that, without another word, I began walking back to Natalie with a heavy heart. It was as if my body was trying to pull me back in the direction of the man, for there were so many questions that pricked at my brain.

He was so rude yet so oddly intriguing, and the rest of the night as I stared up at my spinning ceiling fan with my head on my pillow, I found it hard to shake him off my mind. For while I was here under a roof and in a bed, a man that looked near my same age slept on concrete and ran the risk of getting his things stolen and face beat in every damn day.

I cried that night for him, and it was the first time that volunteering truly got to me like that.

__