Page 9 of The Taste of Humility

She drives her point home, and I swallow the hard lump that has formed in the back of my throat. A hard lump of realization. She’s right, though. I didn’t consider how any of it would affect anyone but Willow. And even then, all I wanted was to piss her off and prove a point.

“Do you know we had to cancel three programs? And not just for today, but for tomorrow,” Franny pauses, I’m sure to let it all sink in deep. “The homeless who depend on us for a hot meal didn’t get a meal today—at least not from us. We couldn’t open the doors and guarantee the meals would go to the truly needy, and not someone hoping to catch sight of you.

“The families who depend on the after-school program because they can’t afford daycare or even a babysitter, had to make other arrangements for their children. Many had to leave work, sacrificing what little pay they get because they had no other choice.

“Tomorrow is our weekly food drive, but the trucks that drop off all the donated food couldn’t get through the crowd. Meaning, we have nothing to give to those who depend on that donation to feed their families. What you did today affected hundreds of men, woman and children in our community. And for what? Because you couldn’t get you way?”

I feel my chest cave in as the consequences of my knee jerk reaction comes full circle. Franny’s truth hits me like a ton of bricks, creating a rush of shame and regret.

What the fuck did I do?

Silence fills my ears. Franny’s done talking and I don’t know how to respond to what she’s told me.

Everything I’ve been worried about feels insignificant compared to those who can’t afford to feed their families, or even the people who will go to sleep hungry tonight. Because damn, I know what it feels like to be in their shoes.

Months before I got my first gig, I was living on the streets, scavenging what I could from trashcans. I was panhandling on corners, begging for handouts, even visiting centers like Willow’s for a decent meal.

“I’m not sure what’s going on between you and Willow.” Franny breaks the silence, pulling me away from the dark memories threatening to pull me in. “I get the sense you two have a past. So, maybe you know this already, but Willow doesn’t hurt people. She’s good. She’s kind. She gives and gives, never taking even when it’s offered. She never puts herself first. Everything that woman does in service of her community and the people in it. Maverik, she’s the person you want on your side. She’s not the kind you hurt.”

Willow is all the things Franny says, but to me, she’s so much more. I think that’s one reason I was attracted to Willow the night we met. I remember the moment I first laid eyes on her. I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the room, and not just because of her outer beauty. No. There was something else about her. Like an aura of light and kindness. Watching her was spellbinding, and you could see how she treated each person she encountered. You could see her true beauty ran deep down into the soul.

I was smitten, but I was also intimidated.

The darkness inside of me prevailed that night, ruining what could have been. Whatshouldhave been. It trickled into my thoughts, poisoning me against her goodness. Because how could a woman like her—who looks like her and grew up like her—truly be good?

When we finally came face to face, it was over before we got the chance.

I was an ass, and I have no excuse for my actions, or the words I said to her.

What I wouldn’t give to go back and change it all. I’d do it all differently. Chances are I wouldn’t be here where I am right now.

Alone.

Angry.

Miserable.

I’d have her by my side

My Willow.

My chest seizes…

My Willow?

Is that what she is? Is that what I want her to be?

“You better fix it then.” Franny’s voice is no longer steel, but I don’t dare to give her a reason to bring it back. Shit, I must’ve said my thoughts out loud.

“How much of that did I share with you?” I ask, finally finding words.

“Enough to prove her instinct to protect you against yourself is right.”

“She wants to protect me?” I almost scoff but hold back and change my way of thinking about the subject.

“Why do you think she went to the judge, Maverick?”

“I thought she did it to punish me, but now I’m not so sure.”