Janice Carter - Her Kind Of Hero

“I’m sure you’d have—”

“No.” Her voice pitched. She shook her head. “No one... They all were just standing there. In shock, I guess. That girl pushed me. I went backward and fell over my backpack onto the tracks. When you ran to help me, they all took off. A woman came along as the train was leaving the station. I was still sitting there, where you set me down.” She waited a second. “She helped me gather up my things. She wanted to call the police but what was the point? They were all gone. I didn’t know any of them.”

Matt was processing that when she blurted, “Why didn’t you stay?”

He winced. He’d tortured himself with that question for years. “Well, you seemed okay. And, uh...I had to get somewhere.” Like far away from my original destination , he added silently. He ought to have stayed, but as he had done so many times back then, he’d disappointed someone. That time it had been her.

“I kept thinking I might see you again. On the Green Line. To thank you.”

“I didn’t usually take that line but...uh...I was visiting someone.” The lie slipped out. Matt glanced down at the files on his desk. Now what? What was the social etiquette around meeting for the first time someone— a beautiful woman —whose life you once saved?

“My name’s Matt. Matt Rodriguez,” he said, realizing that they hadn’t officially met.

“Yes, so I read in the paper. There was a photo and caption, along with an article about a budget cut.”

“Is that how you found me? The article in yesterday’s Trib ?”

She nodded. “I saw it this morning.” Then added, “I’m Dana Sothern.”

She must have come right here, Matt realized. After she’d made the connection she could have passed on the opportunity to meet face-to-face. Yet she hadn’t. He wondered about that. “Since you’ve come all this way, would you like a tour?”

She hesitated, then said, “Okay.”

She didn’t seem ready to go, as if she were content to just sit and stare a bit longer. But Matt needed to get up and away from that clear-eyed gaze, though he couldn’t explain why he found it so unsettling. The perfectly ordinary teenage girl from twenty years ago had definitely morphed into someone interesting, he thought. Well, she grew up, buddy. Like you.

He led the way from his office into the large open space of the center. “You may have noticed the information boards on your way in. We run a number of activities for the kids, to accommodate the age range and interests.”

“Which is?”

“Nine to fifteen.”

“Why that range?”

The questions—or was it the intensity of her expression?—put him off his stride. “We decided not to include younger kids because there are already community groups in the area for them. And a lot of older kids have after-school jobs. We do offer tutoring and remedial high school courses for kids fifteen to eighteen twice a week. A couple of teachers volunteer for those, but my staff has the training to focus on preteens and early teens.”

She looked around the room and gestured down the central corridor to the tech area. “I see computers. Do you offer courses?”

“As you can see, we only have six and they’re in high demand. Usually at least one is out of circulation due to some kind of tech issue. We have to limit usage because the kids would be on them all the time, but we try to organize equitable sessions for the various age groups.”

“And you don’t have the budget to buy more?”

Matt turned to look at her. “Our budget’s tight and we have to prioritize. Especially now, with the recent cutback.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Right. Anyway, most families have computers, don’t they? Maybe not state-of-the-art but...”

“Many do but not all can afford internet,” he interrupted. “The families of these kids have to prioritize, too.” Matt disliked the patronizing comment but surely she could have figured that out for herself.

If his tone bothered her, she was good at hiding it. “How long have you been running this place?” she asked, returning her gaze to him.

“It’s been in operation for six years.” He was about to go on when Kristen approached.

“Hey, Matt, Jeanette’s going to replenish the snack supplies. Do you need anything? She can pick up something for your lunch, if you like.”

“No, thanks, I’m good.” Matt caught her quick appraisal of Dana, standing beside him, and added, “Kristen, this is Dana Sothern. She’s...uh...” He hesitated, searching for an easy explanation.

“Interested in community organizations,” Dana finished. She extended her hand, which Kristen took after a second’s pause.

“From the funding end or volunteering?”

Social niceties were never Kristen’s style. Matt looked away, hiding his smile.

“Definitely funding,” Dana said, taking Matt by surprise.

“Wonderful,” Kristen said and sauntered away.

Matt was puzzled by her manner. She’d been working at the drop-in almost from its inception, so she knew more than anyone how important volunteers and sponsors were. He didn’t understand the lack of appreciation in her voice. Perhaps it stemmed from the staff’s pessimism since the drop-in’s funds from the city were cut. Either that or she took exception to Dana for some other reason.

“Where were we?” Dana asked when Kristen was out of earshot.

Matt was suddenly tongue-tied. “Well, you can see the lounge area from here.” He pointed to the carpeted space in the center of the room, with its sagging couches and beanbag chairs. “We get most of our book donations from the local library, whenever they weed their collection. A lot of the kids are more into magazines, so we include a few subscriptions in our budget.”

“Couldn’t they read them online? Be cheaper.”

Matt pursed his lips. “Then they’d have to access the computers and—”

“Oh, right. There are only six of them.”

The silence that fell between them said it all. Whatever world she came from, her clothes and demeanor signaled it was one Matt had never been a part of. He suddenly doubted whether the woman next to him could really be the frightened, vulnerable girl he’d saved that day. Only moments ago, he’d been keen to know more about her, to learn what she’d been doing the past twenty years. But now he could see the wide gap between them. Just because you saved her life doesn’t mean you two have a bond.

“Okay, there you have it. I should get back to my paperwork.” He noticed what he thought was a flicker of disappointment on her face.

As he turned away, she said, “My briefcase. I left it in your office.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, heading toward the front of the room. The burst of energy created by the woman’s surprise appearance had fizzled out and all the questions that had popped into Matt’s head had vanished. Anyway, it’s not as if you’re going to be friends.

He stood by the door, waiting while she picked up her briefcase. Then she abruptly sat again, placed the case on the desk and opened it up. Matt watched her skim through partitions, and when she withdrew a checkbook, his suspicion about what she was doing was confirmed. Well, hadn’t she told Kristen her interest in the center was focused on funding? Wasn’t this a good thing?

But the emotion flowing through him didn’t feel good, especially when she turned around and said, “This is the least I can do. To thank you for that day.” She held the check out as he walked past her to his own chair.

The figures blurred for a second as he looked at the check. The amount would easily cover the cost of the new sleeping cabin at Camp Hope. He glanced up, noticing the small but tight smile on her otherwise impassive face and felt his cheeks heat up. His hand trembled and he set the check down while clenching his other hand into a fist. He waited until he could speak without raising his voice and in that pause saw confusion cross her face. For some reason, that pleased him.