Safe Harbour

THE TUESDAY AFTER HER BIRTHDAY, OPHÉLIE WAS OUT with the outreach team, and Bob reminded her that she was being careless while they were checking what they called “cribs,” the boxes and structures people were sleeping in. They walked up to them, checked if people were inside and awake, and asked what they needed, but they needed to be vigilant while they did it, to avoid surprises. She had been dreamy eyed, and more than once turned her back on groups of young men who approached them. People on the streets were always curious about who they were, where they came from, and what they were doing. But being alert and cautious was vital to the team. The rules of the jungle applied at all times, no matter how friendly people appeared. For the most part, the homeless they encountered were gentle and kind, and grateful for whatever they got. But threaded among them were the inevitable dissidents, the troublemakers, and the predators who preyed on them, and wantonly took the little they had. It was painful to realize that for everything the outreach team distributed, a third or even half of it would be stolen by someone else. It was a world in which the honor code was survival, and little else. Ophélie knew that, as the others did. And all you could do, in helping them, was give it your best shot, and hope it made a difference.

“Hey, Opie! Watch your back, girlfriend. What's up?” Bob asked her with a look of concern as they headed back to the van after their second stop. He wanted to make her aware of it, so no one got hurt. The safety of the entire team rested on each one of them. And although they were casual at times, and joked with each other, and even those they helped, they still had to keep their wits about them and remain aware of the players. They had to anticipate the worst in order to prevent it happening to them. There were the inevitable stories of cops and volunteers and social workers who'd been killed on the streets, usually doing something they shouldn't have done, like going out to work on the streets alone. They knew better, but there was always the temptation to believe that they were exempt and couldn't be touched. Safety, for all of them, lay in being, and staying, alert.

“I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time,” she promised apologetically, focusing more diligently again. She had been thinking about Matt.

“You better be careful. What's happening with you? You look like you're in love.” He knew, because he was. He was having a great time with his late wife's best friend. Ophélie looked at him and smiled as she swung into the van. He was right. She'd been out of it all night. She'd been thinking about Matt. And had been all day. Their kiss the night before had both delighted and rattled her. It was everything she wanted in some ways, and in others the one thing she didn't want at all. Vulnerability. Openness. Love. Pain. All of which had brought her to her knees when Ted died, and nearly killed her when she found Andrea's letter. For a moment, she thought it had. Now, more than anything, she was numb, as she tried to sort out what she felt. About Ted, Andrea, herself, and now Matt. It was a lot to absorb and try to understand. And at the same time it was so tempting to let herself free-fall into his arms and life.

“I don't know. Maybe,” she said honestly, as they headed toward Hunters Point. It was late in their night, when it was usually safer there. By then, a lot of the troublemakers had gone to bed, and the neighborhood had calmed down.

“There's a news flash,” he said with a look of interest. He had come to respect her and like her a lot in the nearly three months they'd worked together. She was smart and honest and solid and real, without artifice or arrogance. There was a simplicity and earnestness about her that had won his heart.

“I hope he's a good guy. That's what you deserve,” he said sincerely.

“Thanks, Bob,” she said, and smiled. She seemed uninclined to talk about it, and he didn't press her. They had an easygoing relationship and solid understanding of each other's rhythms. Sometimes they talked about serious matters. Sometimes they didn't. They were like police partners, they were compatible, respectful of each other, and trusted each other completely. Their lives depended on it. But she paid closer attention, and “watched her back,” as he put it, at the next stop and for the rest of the night.

But she realized as she drove home that night that she was worried about Matt. About what she was doing, and the door that had opened. More than anything, she didn't want to jeopardize their friendship, and a romance, if it went awry, might. She didn't want to risk that for him, or herself, or even more importantly for Pip. If she and Matt got involved romantically, and made a mess of it, it could spoil it all, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Even Pip noticed that she looked quiet and pensive the next morning in the car on the way to school.