He just needs to come outside and then we’ll be good and we can go. It’s almost too late to go back to church, Jay just needs to get out here, I thought as I sat slouched on the curb outside of Bagels & Co. I waited and waited and couldn’t think of anything else but how hungry I was, but I ate a piece of bread this morning with Jay. I had to pay attention. I had to make sure that I heard Jay come out.
Click. The door opened slowly and I could hear his footsteps. They were almost silent, but I recognized them, rhythmic and steady, but slowing as they neared me. I looked up and there he was. His backpack looked like it was bulging; he needed to be more careful about being more discreet next time. He had his poker face on, but behind his dark lashes and harsh eyebrows I could tell he was proud of himself, so I let it go.
“I got it.” He whispered.
“Let’s go.”
Most of our exchanges were like this, whenever we were out in the streets. Once we stepped down into the security of the church basement we could talk about anything for hours on end, but now was not the time to explain anything. He grabbed my hand in his, helped me up off of the curb and led me through the maze of streets and alleyways that we could travel in our sleep, until we got to the Subway stop. Down we went into the dank tunnels that were full of magic. I heard a saxophone down a ways by the tracks and the rattle of distant subway cars and thought that if you closed your eyes this could be somewhere peaceful, but open your eyes and it is a place where you can be fun and carefree, unless you have something to care about.
We walked all the way to the back of the train, found an empty car and hopped in before the doors shut. There was no reason to be silent in here, except for the fact that we weren’t in the church basement, and that’s basically the only place that Jay and I can be who we truly are. Once we got to the church the pastor welcomed us graciously and told us to go on downstairs. He was the kindest man I’d ever meet in my whole life. He was fearsome and strict and very true to his religion, but very kind. He was old, much older than he was on the day I first met him, the first day my mother took me to church, but his eyes remained exactly the same. That was also the same day that I met Jay.

My mother took me to church one morning on communion day, but I, being only seven and not ever having had enough food to begin with, thought of it more as snack day. The pastor had seen me eyeing the communion bread and slipped me a much larger chunk than I could see anyone else getting. After the service, of which I couldn’t remember to save my life, I attached myself to the pastor because I thought that he reminded me of my grandfather. He was religious and thoughtful and understood how my upbringing had been. My mother couldn’t find me for a while and promised me a thrashing when she did, but the pastor saved my skin and blamed my disappearance on him. I was always grateful to him for that. She kept telling me how much she couldn’t be late for brunch with her co-worker friends from the factory as we rushed down the street. “What is brunch?” I asked, having never known breakfast, lunch, or dinner well enough to figure it out on my own. I never found out. When we got home my mom’s friends were already there; a husband and wife with their eight year old son, Jason. We ate our food and played outside on the swings. “Jason, I wonder when we will do brunch?” I thought I was being fancy and intelligent in front of this new boy, but I guess not. “We already ate brunch. It’s a combo’ of breakfast and lunch, smarty.” Jason said, and with that I knew that I would be protected by this boy.
Three years later, I had given Jason the name of Jay, and we were almost inseparable, except at school. We were in the same lunch period when the vice principal rushed out to us and led us into the office. We hadn’t done anything wrong and tried to prove that to her, but she just stared at us gravely. That was the day that our parents died. She was trying to tell us how the boilers in the factory where they worked exploded and set the building on fire; about how no one made it out in one piece. But I couldn’t hear her. I ran out of the office and down to the bike racks and sped as fast as I could to the factory, where firemen were checking through the remains of the building for any undiscovered survivors. I just sat there. I stared and I stared, but nothing moved, and no one was found. Minutes later Jay showed up at my side and led me home. No one showed up at the house and we just sat on the balcony and cried. We cried like little babies who didn’t know where their mothers were, but the only difference was that we did know where our mothers were. Eventually the pastor came by, and because he was so kind he took Jay and me to the church, down into the third basement, where we used to hide from our parents. He had set up two twin beds and a dresser. We didn’t even have to ask what was going on. We knew what he had in mind. He was going to shelter us, because, in his mind, there was no safer place for orphaned children than the church that they were raised in.

Once Jay and I had recovered from all of the chaos the pastor said that as long as we could feed ourselves lunch and dinner and keep ourselves clean and presentable in clothes that fit, that we could stay. Jay and I became dependent upon each other and we acted as safe havens for each other. After five years of living like this it was only second nature for us to either steal or be given clothes and food as charity. We were fine with charity, because it meant that we could stay in the church, which was the only home I had ever known. But even in this secure new home I couldn’t escape my past.
“Wake up”, whispered Jay in my ear.
“Why!?” I was not ready to wake up.
“You were having another nightmare.” He was right. I was reliving the news story about my parents’ death.
“K. Can I go back to sleep now?”
“No. I’m hungry.”
And so we ate. He had had a good day picking up uneaten leftovers from Bagels & Co. and some of it had even stayed warm. I dug around in his bag for anything else that had slipped past us.
“What is this? What’s wrong with you?! You’re going to get us kicked out of here!” I was almost screaming! I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was not another bagel or a tub of cream cheese, but a bottle of hard liquor. He was risking our only means of shelter being taken away from us.
“Not if the he never sees it.” By “he”, Jay meant the pastor. Even though the pastor never told us not to drink in or around the church, we knew that we weren’t supposed to. In this holy house we lived by the pastor’s rules, which were in turn God’s rules.
As if he had heard my shouting, the pastor came walking down the stairs to grab some clean linens for the community dinner tonight. He stared at me with my crazy bed head hairdo and a bottle of liquor in my hand and I knew what was coming.
The pastor said, in his calm and collected voice, that I was to leave at once. He said that I was never welcome back in this place and must stay away. It wasn’t my fault! I tried to defend myself, but when my voice had gone hoarse from shouting and crying and trying to plead my case, Jay finally came to my defense.
“It’s mine. I’ll leave, but let her stay.”
The pastor looked at him with saddened eyes and nodded his head, because he believed us. The pastor left. Jay started to pack his few belongings.. I was sitting on my bed in shock. I was stunned. I could not believe that Jay could possibly make such a stupid mistake!
“Jay.”
“Yes?”
“You are so stupid.”
“I’ll never even think of trying it again. Don’t you either, smarty.”
With this word I was reminded of the first time that we ever met and our whole life together flashed before my eyes.
“I’ll come with you.”
“You can’t! This is the safest place for you to be and if I let something bad happen to you, I will never forgive myself.”
“I will never be safe without you. And you won’t be without me. I’m coming. It’ll be an adventure.”
He knew that I was being serious, and stubborn. So he couldn’t have stopped me even if he tried.