Safe Harbour

“Yeah, maybe for about five minutes. After that you forget, and you just do what you have to do. You look pretty ballsy to me.” There was a rumor around that she had money, no one knew it for sure, but her shoes looked expensive, her clothes were too neat and clean and fit too well, and her address was in Pacific Heights. But she seemed to work as hard as anyone else, harder according to Louise. “What are you doing tonight?” he pressed her, and she felt both pushed and intrigued. “You gotta date?” he asked fairly bluntly, but as aggressive as he was, she liked him. He was young and clean and strong, and he cared desperately about what he did. Someone had told her he'd nearly been stabbed once on the streets, but he went right back out there the next day. Foolhardy probably, but she thought admirable too. He was willing to risk his life for what he did.

“I don't date,” she said simply. “I have a little girl, I'll be home with her. I promised to take her to a movie.” They had no other plans that weekend, except Pip's first soccer game the next day.

“Take her tomorrow. I want you to come out with us. Millie and I were talking about it last night. You should see it, at least once. You'll never be the same once you do.”

“Particularly if I get hurt,” she said bluntly, “or killed. I'm all my daughter has in the world.”

“That's not good,” he said, frowning. “Sounds like you need a little more in your life, Opie.” He found her name pretty but impossible to pronounce, and had teased her about it when he met her. “Come on, we'll keep an eye on you. How about it?”

“I don't have anyone to leave her with,” Ophélie said thoughtfully, tempted, but scared too. His challenge was difficult to resist.

“At eleven?” He rolled his eyes, and his vast ivory grin lit up the deep brown face. He was a beautiful man, and roughly six feet five. He was the ex–Navy SEAL. He'd been a Navy commando for nine years. “Shit, at her age, I was taking care of all five of my brothers, and haulin' my mama's ass out of jail every week. She was a prostitute.” It sounded stereotypical, but it was real, and what he didn't tell her but she had heard from others was what a remarkable human being he was, and the family of siblings he had raised. One of his brothers had gone to Princeton on a scholarship, another had gotten into Yale. Both were lawyers, his youngest brother was studying to be a doctor, yet another was a lobbyist, speaking out on inner-city violence, and the fifth had four kids of his own and was running for Congress. Jeff was an extraordinary man, and fiercely persuasive. Ophélie was seriously considering going out on the streets with them, although she had sworn she never would. It seemed far too dangerous to her. “Come on, Mama… give us a chance. You ain't never gonna wanna sit behind that desk again, after you been out with us! We're what's happening around here… and why we all do this work. We leave at six-thirty. Be here.” It was more a command than an invitation, and she said she'd see what she could do. She was still thinking about it, half an hour later, when she picked Pip up at school. And she was quiet on the way home.

“You okay, Mom?” Pip asked, with the usual concern, but Ophélie reassured her that she was. And as Pip looked her over, she decided to agree. Pip knew most of the danger signs now of her mother taking a bad turn. She just looked distracted this time, but not depressed, or disconnected. “What did you do today at the Center?”

As usual, Ophélie told her an edited version, and then made a phone call from her bedroom. The woman who cleaned for her several times a week said she could baby-sit that night, and Ophélie asked her to be there by five-thirty. She wasn't sure how Pip would feel about it, and she didn't want to disappoint her, but as it turned out, Pip said it would be better to go to the movies on Saturday anyway. She was playing soccer the next morning, and didn't want to be too tired. Ophélie explained that there was something planned at the Center that she wanted to be part of. And Pip said she didn't mind at all. She was happy that her mother was doing something she enjoyed. It was a lot better than watching her sleep her days away in her room, or stalk the house all night looking anxious, the way she had the year before.