A Sorry Soul • •

[ford macarthur lowe]

It was turning out to be a bad night tonight – at least outside anyway. Ford hadn’t heard rain hammering on the roof like that in a long, long time. That tiny voice that guarded his memories even suggested that maybe he had been out there on the streets himself the last time a storm like this one hit the city. He shook those words away. It felt like another lifetime now, and while he would never pretend that it didn’t happen to him, Ford didn’t believe in living in the past. It was only a sure-fire way to end up back there, repeating old mistakes and missing out on better chances. As the rain grew heavier, he cast his blue eyes up at the steel roof. There was an angry melody being played, one the weatherman hadn’t predicted. If he had, Ford would have prepared more meal boxes for tonight and corralled some volunteers into heading out with him once they were locking up the kitchen. On the worst nights, Ford headed out to seek those who didn’t want to ask for help, but would accept it given to them. He understood their pride. Others simply didn’t know about the food kitchen. They were new to the city, or were unfortunate enough to find themselves on the streets for the first time. Some, sadly, were just too ill to make the journey from the spots they called home. Age, sickness, and addiction could cripple anyone. That didn’t mean they deserved to suffer or miss out on something as basic as a warm, healthy meal.

Ford might put himself out in the cold, harsh weather to help them, but at the end of what was sometimes a very brutal night, he was going home to hot water and a warm bed. Those simple things were not something he’d take for granted ever again. He was appreciative of everything that he had now, and wouldn’t waste any of it for a moment. Ford checked on the food cooking in the pots. Summer didn’t usually mean stews and soups, but after hearing some of the men talking about casserole at the weekend, he had set about making the best he could. He had a side of salad for them, and either a chocolate pudding or fruit for them. He liked to give them the meals they missed most of all, as well as keeping away from things that they may find themselves surviving off; sandwiches, biscuits, bland foods that could survive or were affordable after begging for change. It made a huge difference if you could sleep on a full stomach and a nutritious meal.

Everything looked about ready, and the volunteers were already boxing and plating up the food. Ford just hoped there was enough for him to take out when the moon was high in the sky. They usually were a lot better prepared than this. Bad weather typically meant the kitchen was busier, which meant less to go outside with. He hated tossing any of it away, because he had been there on the streets, and he had done some desperate things out of hunger. He’d rather make sure every bite went to someone who needed it. He unlocked the doors, greeted the regulars he knew too well by now, and watched as the tables began to fill up. Everyone came from a different walk of life in here, but soon they were all eating and laughing with each other like old friends. It was one thing Ford loved most about it all. They all got along when people expected there to be a lot of trouble and fighting. That was just the stereotype people imagined. They didn’t think people could adhere to the rules Ford set in place. If they were broken, there was no food that night. Break them again and that was it; you weren’t welcome, and you lost the chance to be helped. No one paid the volunteers or Ford for this. This was something he did by himself and people joined him along the way, choosing to give back. He wouldn’t see them hurt or put them in danger just for wanting to do good. The rain got heavier. He was glad these people had this space, even if it was just for a few hours.

• • •

TAGGED! Tamsin Michelle Thwaites
WORDS! 721!
OUTFIT! Suave Sweetheart!
LYRICS! Count The Saints - - - Foxes
NOTES!

[Tamsin Michelle Thwaites]

Tamsin loved New York. She had finally found a family in the friends she'd made in the city. There was a time in her life when she wondered if she would have people in her life who genuinely cared about her because she hadn't had that affection growing up. That's probably why she was so closed off whenever she met people. She'd had her heart shattered at a very young age and was always so fearful that it would happen again, any time she met someone new or could picture them in her life long-term. She'd been so closed off when she'd first arrived at the dorm that the running joke was she'd was a bit of an ice queen. That had quickly changed over the course of that first week and she became fiercely loyal to the girls she shared that suite with. Over that first term, it was pulled out of her that her parents hadn't really given a damn about her because her academic achievements meant so much less than her brother's sports trophies so the girls she started to consider family truly became her family. They had grown up with parents who believed in chasing their dreams so they felt like they needed to share the love they'd been given with the brunette. After that, she'd never felt alone again because she'd known she could call any of them up, talk and everything would be better by the time they hung up.

She let more people into that circle of friends since Freshman year and kept in touch with them, despite some of them leaving the city or even the country for work. It was important to Tamsin to keep in touch, to show that she still cared about them no matter how far they'd moved away. The family that Tam's created was important to her and she needed those she loved to know she was there for them no matter what they needed. She'd been trying more and more lately to open up about herself but it was a hard thing to do for her. She was constantly in her head, overthinking every little thing and ultimately being a terrible date. It would just be easier if she could show them little videos of her upbringing to prove she's just scared of a good thing; which was the truth she didn't want to think about.

She'd had a date the night before and had promised the girls a run-through the following night, which was why she was even out at all that night and not curled up on the couch with a book. They'd had drinks and laughed about the fool Tam's had made herself. She swore the next time she had a date, she was going to bring a friend so that person could explain Tamsin's quirky behaviour. She suspected the men she dated just thought she was a little weird because she was a scientist and they were always a little loopy, living life in a lab and white coat. Tamsin was a goofy fool but that lab was her happy place so she was always being foolish within those walls while she waited for results or whenever a good song came on. The night ended sooner than she would have liked but they all had lives to live the next day and sleep was a bit of a requirement. So Tamsin said farewell and started on her walk back to her apartment. It was only a few blocks and she secretly loved the rain. A little drizzle wouldn't hurt anyone but before she'd gotten a couple of blocks, it stopped being a light drizzle and started being a full-blown downpour. She was looking like a drowned sewer rat by the time she'd run into a doorway. It wasn't big enough to get her out of the wet but if the door was open, she might be able to stay inside for a few minutes. She didn't want to disturb anyone though but she still pulled the door open and stepped inside to ask for shelter in the storm.

♦ ♦ ♦

 
TAG; ford macarthur lowe
WORDS; 686
LYRICS; If The Boot Fits --Granger Smith
NOTES; <3

[ford macarthur lowe]

Ford had a well-paid job now, and a career that could see him financially stable for the rest of his life if he stuck with it – which he had every intention of doing so. That was why he thought it important for himself to give back whenever it was possible. He had been part of the down-on-their-luck community that this soup kitchen was designed for and he knew that people were far too comfortable with ignoring them as they stepped out of Starbucks or crossed the street with their to-go lunch. He never resented them for it, simply understanding that people didn’t want to get involved with a portion of society who were deemed problematic, who were plagued by rumours of drugs and crime. In Ford’s case it had been a spiralling decline in his own mental health; a depression that dug its claws into the redhead and refused to let go of him until people from the charity helped pry him free of that dark, weighted parasite.

He was almost a completely different man to the one that had been picked up off the streets. It went further than him working, having access to a hot shower each day and good meals. Ford knew people were uncomfortable with his experiences, but he felt they were eye opening. He never walked by someone without acknowledging them. Some knew him from the time he had been homeless, others knew him from the work he did now. A few were strangers who were new in the city or to their predicament. Ford tried as much as he could to help, indicating safe shelters to spend a night, or trying to guide them towards charities designed to help them any way possible. He would never force it upon someone though. He knew a few familiar faces who weren’t keen on asking for or receiving help and all it did was push them further away, making them believe they had to fend for themselves as a matter of pride.

In the end, help was there if they wanted it. Ford went out to them, too, but only with food and sometimes blankets and coats if he had managed a successful donation run. The people he worked with were often rather generous so long as he only mentioned donations when the weather got colder or wetter. He made a point of only bringing it up in the fall and once more in the spring when the nights could be just as cold as they could be warm. People were keen to get rid of old clothes or give away unwanted Christmas gifts then. There was a woman in payroll whose mother-in-law always made heavy knitted blankets for the holidays and her family never used them, so she often gave them to Ford with a joking comment about having more soon enough.

He was by the door, folding some small towels that he carried to keep the boxes dry, or to hand out if someone looked like they could do with one to help keep dry. They weren’t much, mostly old hairdresser’s towels that were wearing away and stained in places, but they did the trick and the salon he had taken them from seemed happy to be rid of them. He looked up as he heard the door close loudly, thanks to the wind which was starting to pick up. He looked over the soaking wet woman, thinking that she wasn’t someone who would typically find their way in here on a stormy night, but Ford wasn’t going to turn anyone out in this weather. “I take it that it’s getting worse out there?” He asked, offering her one of the towels. It would be too easy to head home and avoid the rain entirely, but Ford knew that decision would only lead to a sleepless night of guilt.

• • •

TAGGED! Tamsin Michelle Thwaites
WORDS! 646!
LYRICS! Count The Saints - - - Foxes
NOTES!

[Tamsin Michelle Thwaites]

Tamsin hadn't bothered to check the weather before she'd left the house. If she had, she might have brought an umbrella along with her, not that it would have done her much good. The rain was coming down in sheets and on such an angle that no umbrella in the world would have kept her dry. It happened sometimes and it was usually best to get out of it quickly and get over it because nothing else could be done. She had rushed up to the first door she'd been able to see in the rain. It was coming down so badly that she couldn't actually see more than a handful of feet ahead of her. It wasn't safe to be on the streets at the moment and she hoped that those stuck out there had some sort of protection from the storm. It was too bad that the government or the city or someone with the means to do something about it didn't. While she'd been lucky to have never lived on the streets, she could see how hard it could be. People were mostly good, helped whenever they could but there were those few that were cruel and made it seem like the rest were as well.

It was always her concern whenever there was bad weather. She didn't want to see anyone on the streets but she knew there was little she could do about it with no resources or proper knowledge about how to help. She did her part, of course, but she always felt like it wasn't enough. She could give all the money she had, offer up her old clothes and supply toiletries and while it was all appreciated, it just wasn't enough. And like many, there were days when she didn't think about anything other than herself. It was a vicious cycle but Tamsin tried. And at the end of the day, trying counted for something. All of that meant, however, that she hadn't known what existed behind the door she'd opened there on that New York street. Her head snapped towards the man who spoke and she smiled, nodding her head. "Only if you consider not being able to see your hand in front of your face getting worse," she said with a laugh, pushing her sopping wet hair back from her face. She probably looked like a drowned sewer rat but appearances had never much mattered to Tamsin.

She looked around and knew what it must be and was happy that there were places like this in the city. People becoming a bit down on their luck happened and knowing that there were places where they could find help should they want it was nice. "Do you mind if I wait it out? I can help fold towels." She offered because if he agreed to allow her to stay, she would want to pay it forward. There was little she could actually do but folding towels didn't seem like she could mess it up and quite frankly, it was the very least she could do.

♦ ♦ ♦

 
TAG; ford macarthur lowe
WORDS; 514
LYRICS; If The Boot Fits --Granger Smith
NOTES; <3