Sebastian returned shortly, his arms loaded. My eyes widened in surprise and when I looked at her, Ani’s face bore the same expression. A heavy-duty sleeping bag, the dark green, flannel-lined kind you get if you’re a hardcore camper, a club-length MagLite flashlight, a small, battery-operated lantern, a box of high-protein granola bars and a resealable plastic bag full of what had to be dog food. Even his First Aid kit was a surprise; a large plastic bin with everything but the kitchen sink inside it.
Before we moved Foster, Sebastian gave him a couple of ibuprofen tablets for pain, and while we waited for them to start taking effect, he poured a hearty scoop of dog food into Pete’s bowl. Juno ate her own helping out of a small plastic bowl Sebastian dug out of the bottomless bin.
Ani and I had phoned home to assure our parents all was well, that Foster had shown up and we were making sure he ate and had a place to stay for the night. Mom, of course, asked if we were bringing him and Pete home. She said Dad offered to take him by the church in the morning where they could hook Foster up with one of the shelters in the area. I thanked them both for being so gracious and explained he’d refused, but that we’d be home soon. Mom sent me a whole row of smiley faces when I told her Sebastian would be driving us.
Ani and I distributed the gear between us, including the lantern, and Sebastian walked alongside Foster, the flashlight’s brilliant beam lighting the way ahead of them. Pete and Juno ambled between us, sated and subdued.
“Why does he have all this stuff in his car?” Ani whispered to me. Sebastian and Foster spoke in low voices a few steps ahead of us and weren’t likely to hear.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I was wondering the same thing.” I jostled the heavy plastic bin I held. “I mean, this is how we pack when we’re going camping.”
Ani hesitated a moment, and then in an even quieter whisper, “You don’t think he’s homeless too, do you?”
The thought had crossed my mind, but I’d seen the W-4 he’d filled out for Corny and by all appearances, the address looked legit. An apartment complex on a street I didn’t recognize, but it was in Midtown with the same zip code as mine. “I really don’t think so, but I suppose it’s possible.”
“It’s just so weird. I’ve never seen anyone keep this much stuff in their car for no reason. His car is too clean for him to be a hoarder.”
I nodded in agreement, even though I knew she couldn’t see me in the dark. We’d reached the fence and Sebastian needed us to hold it as wide as we could so he could help Foster through. Both men were panting from exertion by the time we got to the tunnel.
I set the lantern on a sizable boulder at the mouth of the tunnel, the light bouncing off the curved walls around us. Ani shined the flashlight from her phone into the dark corners. I was anticipating the reflection of vermin eyes or scattering bugs, but the tunnel was surprisingly uninhabited. Maybe Foster and Pete’s presence was a deterrent, but my relief knew no bounds. Most critters didn’t really bother me, with the exception of crickets and grasshoppers, but that didn’t mean I wanted their company right now.
While Sebastian helped Foster out of his flannel and undershirt and wiped his ribcage down with no-rinse soap from the bin, Ani and I arranged Foster’s things within reach of the sleeping bag we unrolled for him. Foster had dug out a narrow hollow in the sand a few feet back from the mouth of the tunnel, just big enough for him and Pete. I wondered if it was simply for comfort or if there was a special reason for doing so, like being able to keep a lower profile if anyone happened by.
Having seen my fair share of bruises and bloody noses, I convinced Ani to be the flashlight holder while Sebastian and I worked on Foster’s ribs. Even in the distorted beam, it was easy to see the bruise darkening his left side. Foster saw my grimace and reached up to pat my cheek.
“I’ll be fine, Missy. Come from sturdy stock.” Pete sidled up next to me and licked my arm as though to assure me as well. “Pete’s real grateful to you, aren’t you, Pete?”
Between Sebastian and me, we made short work of binding Foster’s ribs. “It needs to feel snug, but not so tight it’s hard to breathe.” Foster nodded, assuring us it felt secure. “When I get back, I’ll bring ice for your head and ribs, okay? We can loosen the bandage and ice it while you’re awake, but if you need to sleep, the bandage needs to stay on for support.” Sebastian pulled a clean flannel shirt out of the pile of things we’d brought and held it open so Foster could slip his arms in. It was huge on the rail-thin man, obviously meant for a man Sebastian’s size, but he assured Foster the extra room would make it easier to get to the ribs without having to take it on and off.
There was a cut inside Foster’s mouth, too, so Sebastian had him rinse with some kind of medicated mouthwash and told him to use it after every meal for at least a day or two.
Once Foster was settled in the sleeping bag, we gathered up the few things we were taking back with us, including a bag of Foster’s clothes Sebastian insisted on washing, and said goodnight.
“I’m praying for you, Foster,” I murmured, touching his bony shoulder. Pete lay right up next to him on his uninjured side, his fuzzy head resting on Foster’s shoulder. “And for you, too, Pete. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Foster thanked us again, but his voice was drowsy, fading quickly. We’d left the lantern behind, but the big flashlight gave off more than enough light for us to find our way back through the park.
Sebastian held our doors for us and I slid into the seat, surprised again by how clean the interior of his car was. Tom’s truck cab required shoveling out every time I wanted to go anywhere with him, and my brothers’ cars, at least until they got women in their lives, were the same. Even Sebastian’s back seat was spotless, except for a laundry basket of folded clothes.
Once we were settled in, he returned the plastic bin and a few other items to his trunk. But he took his time, the car shifting a little as he seemed to be rearranging things just out of sight behind the raised trunk lid.
“Rats,” I muttered, trying to angle my head so I could see him in the side view mirror out my window. “I was going to look in his trunk when he put that stuff away. I totally forgot.”
And then he was climbing into the driver’s seat beside me, a fresh shirt on, his arms damp as though he’d just washed them, and the strong, alcoholic smell of hand sanitizer sweeping into the car with him. Without saying a word, he handed each of us a travel-sized bottle of the stuff, which we used liberally. We sat in silence for several moments, staring out the front windshield into the oleander hedge that bordered the parking lot. I was sure none of us were seeing the pink floral sprays and narrow leaves of the plants, but the wretched man we’d left in a ditch in the loving care of his dog.
Silent tears slipped from my eyes, trailing down my cheeks to drip onto my hands in my lap. Now that the emergency had passed, the adrenaline quickly drained from my system, and I felt a little boneless. I didn’t dare look at Ani, but I knew my friend. If I was crying, she was probably curled into a fetal position in the back seat, chewing on her arm, and I was too emptied out to be able to offer her any comfort. Sebastian reached over and took my clenched fist, his large hand wrapping all the way around the tight ball mine formed, but he didn’t embarrass me by acknowledging my tears in any other way.
Finally he spoke. “I don’t even know how to begin to thank you both for what you just did.” He gripped the steering wheel with his free hand. After another few moments of musing, he continued. “Foster is a good man and it kills me to see him this way. I’m glad you were here to help me with him.”
Ani reached up from the back seat and put her hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.
“And we’re glad you showed up, too, Sebastian,” I said, my voice tight. I couldn’t imagine what we would have done without him. “I just wish there was more we could do for Foster. It doesn’t seem like we did enough to help him.”
Sebastian pulled out of the parking lot. I peered out my window back in the direction we’d come, but the park looked abandoned to its peaceful slumber. “You did more than you can imagine for him, Ani. Both of you. And listen. If Foster really wants help, and I’m not around, he knows where to go to get it.” He spoke quietly, almost resignedly. “He’ll do what he thinks is best, and hopefully, that will be enough. The guy knows his way around Midtown better than any of us, and he has Pete.” He shot me a curious look, almost like he couldn’t decide if he should expound more or not. I knew we’d done more than most would have for a sorta-smelly, injured homeless man and his dog, but we were now headed off to our hot showers and comfortable beds, and the rift between our worlds grew wider with each bend in the road.
“You almost make it sound like he’s okay with the way he’s living,” Ani spoke from the back seat.
Sebastian lifted his gaze to the rear view window to look at her before answering. “A lot of people aren’t necessarily okay with the way they’re living, but they get by, knowing they’re doing the best they can with what they have.” He spoke the rebuke gently, but a rebuke it was, nonetheless. I could tell he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but his words were hard to hear, especially for people like me and Ani, who had everything we needed and wanted, and options galore ahead of us.
I watched him from the corner of my eye, his driving smooth, careful, and attentive. It was after nine PM, full-on dark, so even though his face lit up under every street lamp we drove by, his expression was hard to read. But I could tell he had drifted away to somewhere else in his mind.
It dawned on me then, that Ani and I had told him all about us, about our friendship, our families, and our future hopes and dreams, and he’d told us nothing about himself.