Page 105 of Feeding Hope
Tiffany, being the bitch she was, doubled down. “Do something about it instead of standing here preaching.” A few colleagues laughed with Tiffany, but not everyone.
“Actually, I do. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I help out at a soup kitchen. I donate five per cent of my wages to a food bank. Every second Saturday, I give four hours to collect at supermarkets for the homeless. On Sundays, I spend the evening at the foodbank preparing parcels for the following week. I don’t sit on my ass and bitch about them. What the hell do you do except complain?”
People now looked away. That hadn’t been what they expected.
Tiffany’s eyes narrowed. “Katy, I have a life, unlike you.”
“Yeah, what a wonderful existence you have, Tiffany. Worrying about what colour to do your nails, or what to wear to pull the latest fool at a bar. Or bitching that you put on weight, or whining that the shoes you wanted were sold out. What a superficial life you lead. All fluff and no substance. Your life is empty and has no purpose except your own greedy needs.” I doubled down.
The manager looked uneasy as I held my ground. “Maybe we ought to cancel lunch.”
“Don’t bother on my account. I’ll happily skip this waste of time. I mean, hearing about who you’d kiss, marry, and fuck isn’t that interesting or productive. Deciding if pink is the new black or whatever crap you go on about isn’t important. And debating gel nails against acrylic, well, it’s brain-numbingly boring. I won’t miss scintillating, intelligent conversations like that.”
With that, I walked away, ignoring my colleagues, who looked confounded around me. I guess that was the most I’d ever spoken. And during an argument with the biggest bitch in the office. I’d have to watch my back in future. However, it was lunchtime, and I needed to eat.
Walking in the opposite direction of the café they all used, I headed to a local deli and ordered chicken, a roast beef and a cheese sandwiches. In addition, I bought some sausage rolls, Cornish pasties, four bottles of water, two apple juices, two orange juices, and some crisps. Then I returned to the office building. When I neared, I saw the guy sitting there still enjoying the sun.
“Can I join you?” I asked, approaching. He opened his eyes.
“Overheard you,” he finally replied and waved a hand at the bench.
“Sorry, guess I was loud. I’m Katy,” I stated and sat.
“Alex and you were right. They don’t know my story, and I’d never tell them anyway.” Alex stared as I pulled out the three sandwiches.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked. You might have been vegetarian,” I said, offering him the choice.
“What would you like?” Alex asked, confused.
“I eat all three, so pick two,” I insisted.
Alex considered the choices before taking the cheese and beef sandwiches. Quietly, I passed him the bag with two bottles of water, as well as the apple juice and the orange juice.
“Why?” he murmured, eyeing it as if it were a bomb.
“Do you need to know?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Alex, I grew up in poverty,” I replied and fell silent. Alex sat there and ate his food. Slowly, I told him about my past. Alex listened as I rambled for twenty minutes.
“And now?” Alex inquired when I quit talking.
“Now my parents live in a semi-detached home I pay for. I own an apartment, and my car is newish. Dad has a five-year-old car that I again paid for. Their money pays their bills, food and allows a few luxuries. I’d give them more, but they won’t take it,” I said, scowling.
“That annoys you,” Alex murmured.
“Yes, it does. I want to look after them, but they allow me to.”
“Frustrating, isn’t it?” Alex said as his eyes on the pretty park.
“Yes.”
“You’re not going to ask why I’m here?”
“That’s not my business. But if you wish to talk, I’m happy to listen,” I replied.
“Most want to know.”
