Must Read: The Promise Keeper - Season 1 - Episode 7

Episode 7 years ago

Must Read: The Promise Keeper - Season 1 - Episode 7

“A bit better,” Shade commented as I entered the dining hall. She was obviously waiting for me to emerge. “Let me see the hands,” she ordered. I held out my hands with a small roll of my eyes. She ignored my eyes and looked closely at both sides of my hands with special attention to the nails.
“Take the chair off the tables,” Shade ordered. I assumed she had accepted the cleanliness of my hands since she didn’t make me rewash them. “Tuck them under, equidistant apart. Don’t move the tables, they are exactly where they belong. Meet me in the backroom when you’re done.” She headed off with a purpose. I looked at the legs of the tables and the north sets of legs were lined up perfectly on a tile line. The northeast leg of each table was on a tile corner. Shade may be a perfectionist.



I lowered the chair and tucked them under and scooted them to make sure they were equally spaced. I walked around when I was done and adjusted a few, so the chair lined up with the tables in the same rows. I rechecked each table to make sure it hadn’t moved. Then I went into the backroom. I had no idea how Shade got me to be so anal about tables and chairs.


I walked into the backroom, one of the cleanest kitchens I have ever seen. All the stainless steel sparkled and everything seemed to have a place. There were no utensils or pots and pans lying out. Even the tiled floor looked spotless. Shade was sitting on a stool, working with a set of papers. She looked up as I walked in and pointed to an apron and scarf that had been la!d out on the counter. I donned both.
“That’s the hand wash,” Shade said, as she pointed at a small sink along the wall. “Push the lever with your leg and wash your hands. Before you touch any food or anything that will touch food, you wash your hands. Tissue paper is in there next to it.” She went back to her papers, making notes on one of them.



I was a little surprised not to see anyone else working. I moved over to the sink and washed my hands. It seemed a little over-the-top since I had just gotten out of the shower. I guess I touched some chairs, but I assumed they were strictly sanitized like the rest of the place. I was drying my hands with the paper towels when Shade looked up again.
“There are tomatoes over there in the store,” Shade said and pointed to the large steel door, “they are on the left side, second shelf. Bring out two baskets and set them on the floor by the sink.” She indicated the large sink with the high curved faucet. She then went back to her papers. I started to walk toward the store and decided my silent obedience was a bit much.
“By the way, good morning, Madam Shade,” I said with a tiny bit of smart-a-s. I kept moving toward the store so she couldn’t find fault. Shade surprised me by looking up briefly with a smile.
“Good morning, Frank,” Shade replied and returned to her work. I guess authoritative regimes could be cordial. I found it pleasing to make the great leader smile — my little bit of rebellion for the morning.



I hauled the two baskets of tomatoes out to the sink. They were a bit heavier than I had thought so it took two trips.
“Place the baskets properly, then, wash your hands again.” Shade didn’t look up from her work this time. I sighed as I placed the baskets properly and washed my hands again. Shade rose from her work and washed her hands as well. “We never allow our skin to touch the food,” she instructed as she dried her hands, “We always use latex gloves; I’m guessing you will want the large ones.” She pulled a pair of small, disposable latex gloves from a rack mounted on the wall next to the sink. I grabbed a pair of large.
“Start washing the tomatoes.” Shade’s motions were practiced as she blindly grabbed a metal sieve from the wire shelf above our heads. “Both baskets need to be prepared. Rinse, core, slice then chop. She walked off to grab some more tools for the job as I began rinsing the first batch of tomatoes.



Shade returned with a cutting board and a pair of small clawed spoons. She deftly maneuvered, with her feet, a wheeled garbage can over toward the sink. “Touch the garbage can and you need a new set gloves,” she warned. She retrieved a wet tomato from the large metal sieve and showed me how to take out the small hard core at the top with the clawed spoon. The core went into the can and the tomato onto the cutting board. We started cutting the tomatoes together. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty.
9
“I have seen your face before,” Shade said absently as she quickly cut another tomato.
“I don’t see how.”
“No, I’ve seen it.” I remembered her greeting everyone at the door last night. She was good with names. “‘Frank’ doesn’t jog my memory. Perhaps you have another name.” Her smile was slight, but I did see the small curve. I cut another tomato, conscious she was doing two for everyone I did.
“I like the name Frank right now,” I said truthfully, while respecting her deduction, “yesterday was the first time I have ever seen you, so I am sure you must be thinking of someone else.” I couldn’t see how our paths had crossed in the past. My mind was drawing a blank.
“It will come to me,” Shade said, “I never forget a face.” I needed to change the subject. Dolapo didn’t know Frank. It was easier to try and forget as Frank.
“I thought there would be other workers.”
“Not until one,” Shade replied, “I only need one for prep.” I felt like I was in a coring competition. Every time I moved to catch up to her pace, she would accelerate. Finally, I surrendered and slowed to a reasonable pace. “Nice try.” Shade was wearing a smirk as she slowed to a pace just a bit faster than mine. She obviously liked to win.
“So how did you end up here?” I asked Shade. I was truly interested in how a model of efficiency could find herself running a free cafeteria for the homeless.
“Long story. Maybe I will tell you sometime.” Shade paused, then smiled and said, with emphasis, “Frank.” ‘Touché,’ I thought. She was willing to trade stories, but not give hers up for free. I just smiled back. Shade had a quick mind. Dolapo would have liked her.
“How do you fund this place?” I changed the subject to something more comfortable.
“Donations. Lots and lots of donations.” Shade lost her smile as she continued with the tomatoes. The answer seemed to exhaust her.
“Charity?” It came out of my mouth before I could stop myself. It was habit. Shade stopped cutting and looked up at me.
“Do you understand financial statements?” Shade had already surmised a lot. I wanted to feign ignorance, but I had asked the question too confidently.
“Yes.”
“Will you look at my books?” Shade’s question sounded almost pleading. I sensed her confidence didn’t extend into accounting. So much for totally ignoring my old life.
“I can do that.” I didn’t want to sound too confident about my abilities. Sometimes people hand you a horrible mess and expect you to create facts from thin air.
“Okay, tomorrow, same time. I’ll get someone else for the preliminary preparation of the food.” Shade’s mood changed. She started cutting with enthusiasm. I thought I might have just bitten off more than I could chew.
I learned a lot about mass food preparation. Shade changed from authoritative to patiently instructive. Maybe her books were more than a mess. I was being buttered up for tomorrow. Strangely, I found the labour fun and relaxing. It was fairly easy, different and repetitive. Nothing you had to think too deeply about. Each task had an endgame, a place where I could identify that it was done and enjoy that sense of completion. I needed the mindless labour, and today I was good at it.
At 1:00 four other homeless workers showed up. Each had worked for Shade before, and confidently went to work after reading a chart on the wall. Felicia, the large women who was serving food yesterday, didn’t read the chart. Shade instructed her verbally as a matter of course. I suspected Felicia couldn’t read. Shade just took it in stride and ignored the limitation. In fact, she put Felicia in charge of teaching me every other thing I needed to know. Felicia smiled.



Felicia redundantly educated me about washing my hands and using latex gloves, which I took in stride. Her personality was a lot like Shade’s, only leaning more toward the compassionate side.


My university degree was useless compared to her experience. It was refreshing to be taught something new and to have a teacher so enthralled with the experience.
“You single?” Felicia asked. There was a twinkle in her eye and I couldn’t help blushing. The question came out of nowhere. I mumbled, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t scar the rapport we had. I could think of nothing that would not come out insulting. I whispered some truth for both our sakes.
“My wife just passed away.” It was quiet enough to remain private. Felicia nodded slowly and leaned into me compassionately.
“I’m sorry,” Felicia whispered back. I wasn’t sure if she was sorry about my wife or the fact she flirted.
“Thanks.”
“We have three more pots to fill,” Felicia said, returning to the job at hand. I think she saw my need for manual labour. We worked in tandem with the next three batches. She didn’t flirt any more, but we bonded. She started humming ‘Tempted and Tried’ as we cooked. I joined in after a few moments. Felicia smiled at me and I realized she was humming for Dolapo. I was touched that she understood, although she had never met my wife.



I turned to hand off the second pot of cooked meat to the next station. I caught Shade staring at me. She clumsily went back to her paperwork. I wondered if she had heard my confession. I hoped she hadn’t. I only told Felicia to spare her feelings, and mine.
If you do food preparation, you get to eat first.



It was a wonderful rule that my growling stomach appreciated immensely. I had been smelling food all day, and had had nothing but water. I was getting used to eating only once a day, but it’s tougher when watching it being prepared. There was no cheating or snacking in Shade’s kitchen. I even had to wait for ‘ I Need An Angel.’



Luckily, Fabio was near the front of the line. I waited until he sat down before I started eating. It wasn’t so much manners as it was a show of friendship. I liked him liking me without the need for my past. I loved feeding off his lazy enthusiasm for life. It was refreshing.
“Good evening, Fabio.” Shade had snuck up on us in the middle of our discussion. Fabio nodded with mouth full of food. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. He nodded again. Shade placed a foil wrapped fish on Fabio’s tray. Fabio smiled, showing all his awful teeth.
“I got to get you warmer clothes,” Fabio said, never taking his eyes off the fish. I snapped my eyes up, looking after Shade. She was moving off, back to the front of the line. Her flowered skirt, greenish this time, swaying confidently back and forth. The books must be in really bad shape.
Fabio showed me how I could get some warmer clothes. It wasn’t exactly stylish, but I was now wearing an old brown jacket that looked like it might have been used by someone in construction, and a pair of NYSC boots. The laces in the boots were strange against the colour the boots were made of. It was better than the old loafers I had been walking around in. I really looked the part now, homeless. Everything mismatched, but functional.

Yea, homeless.