By: Parasar Athmakuri
I stumbled through the massive mahogany door into the grandeur of the foyer, my feet landing on the cold marble floor. A crystal chandelier seemed to float from the high vaulted ceiling and art pieces adorned the walls of the entryway. If I looked past the sweeping staircase, I could see the expanse of green through the back wall of glass, where the pool sat, sparkling under the sun.
Even though I’ve been here more times than I can count, the entrance never ceases to amaze me.
“So what do you want to do today, Kashil?” Julian asked, shutting the door behind him.
Julian Mozarito. A tall, olive-skinned teenager, he is certainly something. He is hot headed, yet caring. He is cocky, yet sensitive. He is my best friend.
“I dunno,” I responded, walking past the painting of the naked lady.
I never really understood why so many affluent families hung up naked people. His mom was some CEO of a large company, but the details were lost on me. Must be a crazy rich person thing.
I followed Julian up the staircase and to his bedroom, eyeing the library room below as we made our way across the balcony.
He barged into his room and plopped onto his bed. Everything in his room seemed so large and abundant. The 75-inch flat-screen TV, decorated with strips of LED lights. The collection of velvety bean bags that filled an entire corner. The wall filled with dozens of shoes on shelves.
How could one 14-year-old need so much stuff? The only thing I had was my stuffed bear, Baloo, that I had brought with me from India when I moved to Seattle.
He probably saw me eyeing his things like I normally do, but this time he spoke.
“I know I don’t really need all this stuff. I don’t even use most of it, and honestly, there’s only one thing I have that means something to me, but you already know what it is, Kash.” He looked down towards his neck.
I nodded, thoughtfully regarding the gold chain with a compass pendant draped around his neck. His grandfather had given it to him when he was younger. “Life will lead you in all directions, but never give up hope. You are not your only compass; so is everyone you trust and hold dear to your heart,” his grandpa would apparently always say. I knew how much the chain meant to him.
I walked towards Julian and sat down next to him, but even the size of his bed made it seem like we were a mile apart.
“Homework or video games?” He had a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I grinned.
* * *
Even though my mom couldn’t afford a phone, she still made sure that I was able to contact her. So, for a few dollars a month, she was able to pay for a phone for herself, my sister, and me. I wasn’t that popular in school, so the only people that would contact me were Amma (my mom), Sivani (my sister), Julian (you already know), and the occasional scam numbers, which I came to know wanted my social security number. Not that I had one.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I set the controller down and checked my messages, while Julian was screaming at the TV using words I’m sure his parents wouldn’t be too fond of.
The text read like this:
Sivani: You need to come back, Amma is getting worried.
Me: Why? I’ve stayed out later before. I’m only at Julian’s.
Sivani: Idk. Just come back. I think something happened with dad. She’s been muttering to herself.
Just seeing the word “dad” was enough to make me jolt. My body tensed up and my fingers curled in.
“Hey, are you okay?” Julian asked.
“Yeah.” I frigidly said. “I just need to go home. I need to help my mom with something.”
“Oh, okay, but it’s getting kind of late and it’s raining. I’m going to walk with—”
“NO!” I interrupted suddenly, stifling an even louder scream.
As many times as I’ve been to Julian’s house, he doesn’t know about where I live. I usually just blame it on my mom not liking guests coming over. Or that the house is being renovated. If only.
His cream colored eyebrows furrowed in, and as he opened his mouth to protest, I packed my bag and bolted off of his mile-long bed, out of his large bedroom, down the sweeping staircase, and through the massive mahogany door.
* * *
The rain only seemed to gain momentum by the minute, pelting my bare arms and legs, until I had finally made it to my mom and sister.
I carefully unzipped the screen and stepped inside the cozy, but congested tent, careful not to get water on the sleeping bags. The ground underneath the canvas felt slimy, from the build up of mud and rainwater. A yellow flashlight tied to a string dangled from the top and pictures of Amma, Sivani, and me were duct-taped to the sides of the tent. In front of me sat my mom and sister underneath a mountain of blankets. I tried to study their faces, but Amma’s face was blank.
“Yennachu?” What happened? I asked.
“Appa sethitaru.” Dad is dead.
I didn’t know if I should feel guilty about being happy.
I looked over at Sivani, but she was just looking down, twiddling her thumbs.
“Kash?” croaked an all too familiar voice.
I whirled around, mortified to find a drenched Julian standing outside the canvas awning.
I rushed out towards him. My brain felt like it was holding in every thought in my mind, just waiting to erupt.
“Julian, what are you doing here? Why are you here? I told you not to come.”
His face remained expressionless, but his mouth was slightly agape, his curly hair glistening under the fluorescent street light. He looked past me towards my family. He opened his mouth wider as if he wanted to say something. But not even the pounding rain could deafen this silence.
“You need to leave. Please. Please, Julian!” I pleaded, my cheeks flushing darker shades of red by the second.
“Is—” he finally started, “Is this where you live?”
Yes. Yes, Julian, I’m the homeless kid. I’m the homeless kid people talk about in school. I’m poor. I’m homeless!
But all I could manage was a soft, “Yes.”
“Let me help you, Kash! I can—”
“I don’t want your help! I didn’t even want you to see where I live. I didn’t want you to pity me. Please just go away. We’ll talk about this later, okay? I promise.”
He took my hand and I was suddenly holding something cold and metallic. My cell phone.
“Okay,” he said gently and walked away.
Before I could call after him, my mom called out to me, a faint tremor hiding behind her normally stern voice.
I ran back in through the tent opening, over the sleeping bag and into my mom’s arms.
We sat like that for the rest of the night, the rain drumming against the roof of the tent.
* * *
Me: Hi Julian, it’s me. I owe you an explanation. So, here it is.
As you know, we used to live in India with my dad. To put it plainly, all three of us were victims of his verbal and physical abuse. Living with him, we were in constant fear of our safety. I hated him with every single cell in my body.
I was only twelve when I left everything I knew behind: culture, friends, and most importantly, a place to live. My mom’s sister, already being in America, secretly arranged for us to escape my dad. Once we arrived in Seattle, we lived with her for a couple months. She put my sister and I in school and helped my mom get a job at the grocery store. But then she unexpectedly died in a car accident. With no family or friends for support, we were confined to the streets. My mom didn’t make enough to afford secure housing.
Thankfully, we were able to find this tent city where we were able to spend the nights safely. I was even able to make friends with some of the older people in our community.
I’m sorry for running out the way I did yesterday. I was just so embarrassed. My mom got news that my dad died in India, so emotions are flying high right now.
Text back soon,
Kash
Julian: On my way right now.
* * *
Julian ran up to me and just engulfed me into a tight hug. He smelled like the oceans from India. I didn’t want him to let go.
“Kash, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. I’m really sorry about how I acted yesterday at your place.”
“Shut up, dude. Or I’ll punch you,” he said grinning.
I laughed weakly.
Now in the daylight, all of the tent city was visible. There were rows upon rows of semi-organized tents with people of all kinds living in them.
“Why didn’t you tell me before, Kash. You know I would’ve helped you.”
“I know. I guess people always think being homeless is something that should be unspoken. Hidden. But I mean look at me. I still go to school, I still am. I just don’t have a proper house, and that’s okay because I always remind myself that it’s just temporary.
Julian nodded with deep regard.
“And I don’t know,” I continued. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to look at me differently. Kind of like how you are now.”
Julian shook his head vigorously, looking almost offended that I said that.
“Of course not! I’m, well, just confused. How do you get by everyday? How does your family get by? Where do you get food? Laundry? Water?”
“Well, Sivani and I eat as much as we can at school since it’s all free. The owner of the grocery store lets my mom take extra snacks and other food items after her shifts. Same thing for water. During the summer, we do laundry by hand just like we did in India. Winter is the only time we spend money to do laundry.”
Julian now looked around towards the other people within the tent city.
“We all take care of each other here and we try not to take anything for granted.”
“You see her over there?” I said, pointing towards a middle-aged woman that lived a few tents down. “That’s Michelle, and she’s been sober from drugs for almost 2 years now! But she still isn’t able to make enough money to afford sustainable housing.”
“And her, that’s Amy. She has gone through hell and back. She is a survivor of domestic violence. She is a survivor of mental illness. She is a survivor of every single challenge the universe has thrown at her. And yet, that hasn’t made her cold. She’s one of my favorite people here. She’s moving in with her fiance in a couple of weeks too!”
It was hard to read Julian’s face, but he finally spoke.
“Thank you for telling me, Kash. I honestly had no idea. But how do so many people end up like this?”
“There are so many reasons why people end up on the streets. Sometimes they look like what you’d expect a homeless person to look like. But more often than not, they look like you and me. I have other life problems, and for me personally, homelessness is just another part of it.”
I suddenly found myself surrounded by the scent of the salty ocean, as Julian came in for another hug.
“I have something for you, by the way.”
I cocked my head curiously.
He reached behind his neck and fumbled around with something. He took my hand and I was suddenly holding something warm and metallic. His necklace.
“Jul—”
“Kash, respectfully, shut the hell up. I want to give you this and you’re going to let me. You’re my best friend and the only person who’s ever cared about me so much. This is the least I can do for you. I want you to know that I’ll always have your back.”
I looked down at the golden compass shimmering under the sunlight.
You are not your only compass.
I looked back up at him and smiled.
“Come on,” I said eagerly. “I want to show you my side of the tent.”
Works Cited (Images)
“22 Bookshelf Ideas That Will Please Every Type of Reader.” Pinterest, https://www.pinterest.com/pin/401664860496818773/.
“Domestic Violence Silhouette Images.” Shutterstock, https://www.shutterstock.com/search/domestic-violence-silhouette?image_type=photo.
“RADICAL EFFORTS TO END HOMELESSNESS: INSIDE THE TENT CITIES OF SEATTLE.” Pacific Standard, https://psmag.com/magazine/radical-efforts-to-end-homelessness-inside-the-tent-cities-of-seattle.
“Rainy Night.” Unsplash, https://unsplash.com/s/photos/rainy-night.
“SISGEM 14K Real Gold Compass Pendant Necklace.” Amazon, https://www.amazon.com/SISGEM-Compass-Necklace-Zirconia-Birthday/dp/B09KC3QT35.
“Tools for Seattle Tent City Living.” SPU Stories, https://stories.spu.edu/articles/tools-seattle-tent-city-living/.
