Chapter 4 – Chapter 4

"Bundle up. You'll find an even snowier Christmas out there than when we came in," Mae Manning said as she passed Christopher at the intake table, where he was pulling on galoshes to protect his treasured Gucci loafers.

"Yes, it's going to be a cold one tonight, Mae. These men will be glad they got in here to mark their Christmas Eve."

She stopped and put a hand on his arm. "You take care tonight, Chris. You really didn't need to come out this evening. We all understand."

That came as rather a revelation to Christopher. Mae Manning was definitely old school and one of the more judgmental grand dames in this neighborhood. She obviously hadn't approved of the whole situation before and he would have thought she'd just avoid talking about it. But she hadn't. She was showing sensitivity and giving support. "Coming here and making myself useful was better than sitting at home and brooding," he said.

"Still, I think it was really unfortunate about the issue you had to deal with this evening. But you handled it admirably."

The first thing that came to mind was him having it on with Jamal in the preschool area, and he had a flash of fear that she'd seen them. He'd had a sense that someone had, but it hadn't been more than a fear they would he assumed. "Oh, the young man with the gun. We do have some unusual experiences with this program, don't we? And, don't worry about the gun. There were no bullets and it wasn't capable of firing anyway."

"I didn't see that young man again . . . after you'd talked to him," she said.

"Neither did I. I went looking for him, but I didn't find him. I certainly hope he didn't go out into the night again." That brought Jamal into his mind. Jamal had gone out again. Getting drunk was probably the worst thing Jamal could do on a night like this out there. He could go to sleep drunk and not even realize he was freezing. Maybe he should drive around a bit and see if he could find him.

But when he exited the church he found that the young man, Evan, had gone back out into the snow and finding that out completely knocked the thought of Jamal being in danger out of his mind. Evan was huddled in the shadows at the end of the portico just outside the church door, shivering, in a coat not quite heavy enough for this weather and crouched over a duffel bag not quite big enough to be carrying what a homeless man needed to survive.

"Evan. Is that you?" Christopher said, coming over the young man and crouching next to him.

"Sorry. I'll move away from the church. I know we aren't supposed to stay around if we leave."

"You look like you're freezing, son. Why did you leave? We had it all under control. I came back looking for you and you were gone."

"You took my gun. I didn't feel safe staying here any longer."

"Why did you need a gun in the shelter? And I found your gun wouldn't fire anyway, nor did it have bullets in it."

"Yeah, but the other men wouldn't know that."

"So what? Are you saying you were afraid of being assaulted by those on the staff or the other homeless men?"

"The homeless men."

"Did that happen to you in a shelter before, Evan?"

"Yes." He clammed up then and wouldn't comment further.

"Well, you can't stay here and you can't get back inside."

"My other bag is inside. I only brought this one out."

"OK. Come with me. I live just a few blocks away, over the East 65th street. You can bunk there tonight and I'll bring you back here for breakfast and you can retrieve your bag."

"You could just go in and get it for me, couldn't you?"

"Yes, I could, but that would still have you out on the street in the cold and snow on Christmas Eve. I couldn't sleep myself knowing you were still out. It's OK, I have a guest room. Come on, my car is just over there, in the parking lot."

"So, you won't get my other bag back for me unless I go to your place?"

"I won't unless I know you are in someplace warm and safe."

"Safe," Evan said and snorted. But he didn't resist moving to Christopher's SUV. He sat in the passenger seat, looking straight ahead, clutching his duffel bag in his lap while Christopher cleaned the snow off the top and windows.

In the car, en route to Christopher's townhouse on East 65th Street, which, indeed, was just six blocks from the church on Payne Avenue, Christopher pursued the issue of needing a gun. "What is this about needing protection at homeless shelters, Evan?"

"Apparently I'm the type for a certain kind of man among the homeless—as well as elsewhere."

"Is that what made you homeless? You don't seem to fit any of the molds that produce homelessness. I'd say you haven't been knocked down and out—at least not for long—and I don't sense any mental issues. Have you had trouble of this nature elsewhere?"

"It isn't trouble about preferences. I'm gay. And I like going with me just fine. It's an issue of having it pushed on me. A couple of men who come to these shelters—but before that . . . my mother's boyfriend. I couldn't stay around for that."

"Here in Cleveland?" Christopher asked, but then, seeing out of the corner of his eye that Evan had tensed up and, knowing that they were drawing close to his townhouse, he decided to back off in case Evan bolted out into the snow. "Sorry, I don't mean to probe. You don't have to answer that. Here, this is it," he said, drawing up onto the driveway in front of a garage door.

"You need me to get out and pull the garage door up for you or do you have an automatic opener?" Evan asked.

"No, we'll leave the car here. I don't use the garage anymore. Come on inside."

"Nice place," Evan said when they went up a floor to the living, dining, and kitchen area, which, indeed were quite plush, the living room being open another story to the ceiling, the master bedroom and bath being above the dining room, kitchen, and small study. "You must be rich."

"I do OK. I have a couple of jewelry stores here in Cleveland. You look like you're soaked to the core. Did you get a shower at the church?"

"No. I was scheduled for after dinner, but . . . well, you know."

"The guestroom is downstairs, behind the garage. There's a bath and laundry room down there too. If you toss your clothes out before going to the shower, I'll put them in the washer down there. You'll find clothes that I think will fit you in the guest room closet and the dresser. I'm sorry I don't have a tree up to make it feel like Christmas in the house, but I'll get the fireplace going and there will be Christmas music stations on the radio."

He turned to see that Evan was looking at a photograph he'd picked up on a credenza in the living room. "Who's this with you in this photo?"

Christopher grimaced. "That's Steve."

"He's in the photo over there too. Is he your brother? Does he live here?"

"He lived here, but he wasn't my brother. He was just someone special."

"He looks a lot like me, I think."

"Yes, he does—he did," Christopher answered.

"You say 'did.' He's not around here anymore?"

"He's not around anywhere anymore. He hasn't been around since last Christmas Eve. He died. Last Christmas Eve."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be nosey. I can go if you don't want to have me around tonight—especially as I must remind you of him."

"No, please stay. It helps that you remind me of him. Downstairs. Go down the stairs and turn right and you'll find the guestroom. Remember to toss your clothes out into the hall and I'll put them in the washer. I can have them dry by tomorrow morning and we'll drive back to the church. Come upstairs, to the fire, after your shower. I think I could use the company this evening. I really should have put up a tree."

"Thanks," Evan said, moving to the staircase. "Thanks for not leaving me out in the snow . . . and for not turning me over to the police back at the church. Your house is a whole lot nicer than a jail cell would have been."

Evan had handed the photograph back to him rather than putting it back on the credenza. Christopher studied the photo and ran his thumb over the image of Steve. He hadn't really thought of it, but, yes, this Evan looked quite a bit like Steve had. He wondered if that had been what had drawn him to the young man in the church hall and had made him feel protective toward him. He felt himself tearing up and hastily put the photo down, the image turned to the surface of the credenza and, giving a sigh, he went over to the fireplace to get the gas logs started up.

It was a good thing, he thought, that he'd had the sexual encounter earlier in the evening with the black giant, Jamal. Otherwise, he knew he'd surely be having the same arousal feelings for Evan now that he'd always had with Steve—especially since they seemed so much alike.

He couldn't say, though, that he wasn't having arousal feelings toward Evan. Not that he'd do anything about it—especially not on Christmas Eve.