By Friday afternoon, it was clear to Ophélie that she had made the right decision. And that opinion was strongly reinforced by her advisers, those who directed her, and her co-workers. She was obviously going to be an asset to the Center, and she felt as though, for the first time in a year, she had found some purpose and direction that was fruitful.

She was just about to leave when Jeff Mannix of the outreach team breezed past her, and stopped to grab a cup of coffee.

“How's it going? Busy week?” he asked with a grin.

“Seems like it to me. I don't have anything to compare it to, but if it gets any busier around here, we may have to lock the doors so we don't get trampled.”

“Sounds about right.” He smiled at her, taking a sip of the steaming coffee. He had come by to check their provisions, they were adding some new medical and hygiene supplies to their usual offerings. Most of the time, he didn't come to work till six o'clock, and usually stayed on the streets until three or four in the morning. And it was easy to see that he loved what he was doing.

They both talked for a minute about the man who had died on the doorstep on Wednesday. Ophélie was still shaken by it.

“I hate to say it, but I see that out there so often, it no longer surprises me. I can't tell you how many guys I try to wake up, and when I turn them over… they're gone. Not just men, women too.” But there were far fewer women on the streets. Women were more likely to go to the shelters, although Ophélie had heard horror stories about that too. Two of the female intakes she had done that week had told her that they'd been raped at shelters, which was apparently not unusual. “You think you'll get used to it,” he said somberly, “but you never do.” And then he looked at her appraisingly. He'd been hearing good things about her all week. “So when are you coming out with us? You've worked with everyone else around here. I hear you're a whiz with intakes and provisioning. But you ain't seen nothing yet till you come out with Bob, Millie, and me. Or is that a little too real for you?” It was a challenge to her, and he meant it to be. As much as he respected his co-workers, he and the others on the outreach team felt as though theirs was the most important work the Center did. They were at greater risk, and provided more hands-on care in a night than the Center itself did in a week. And he thought Ophélie should see that too.

“I'm not sure how helpful I'd be,” Ophélie said honestly. “I'm pretty cowardly. I hear you guys are the heroes around here. I'd probably be too scared to get out of the van.”

“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.

As promised, Alice, the cleaning lady, appeared promptly at five-thirty, and when Ophélie left, Pip was watching TV. Ophélie was wearing jeans and a heavy sweater, a ski parka she had found at the back of her closet, and some hiking boots she hadn't worn in years. And she'd brought a little knitted cap and gloves in case it got cold. Jeff had warned her that it would. No matter what time of year it was in San Francisco, the nights got cold, sometimes in summer most of all. And there had been a distinct chill in the air at night for the past few weeks. They carried with them doughnuts and sandwiches and thermoses of coffee, she knew, and Jeff had said that they stopped at McDonald's sometimes halfway through the night. Whatever they had planned, she was prepared, as best she could be. But as she parked near the Center, she had a definite feeling of trepidation. If nothing else, she knew it would be an interesting night. Maybe the most interesting of her life. And she knew that if either Matt or Andrea knew, or Pip, they would have tried to talk her out of it, or been scared to death on her behalf. And she was scared too.

As she walked into the garage behind the Wexler Center, she saw Jeff, Bob, and Millie loading up. They were putting boxes and duffel bags in the back of one van, and a stack of sleeping bags and donated clothes in the other. Jeff turned with a grin as he saw her, and looked pleased.

“My, my, my… Hello, Opie… welcome to the real world.” She wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a put-down, but whatever it was, he seemed happy to see her, and Millie smiled at her too.

“I'm glad you could make it,” she said quietly, and went back to work. It was another half-hour before they were loaded up, as Ophélie helped. It was a backbreaking job, and the real work hadn't even begun. And as soon as they were through, Jeff told her to ride with Bob in the second van.

The tall quiet Asian man waved at the passenger seat, the rest of the seats had been removed to make room for their supplies.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked calmly as he turned the key in the ignition. He knew Jeff and the way he strong-armed people into doing things, and he admired her for coming. She had guts. She didn't need to do this, didn't have to prove anything to anyone. She looked as though she came from a different life. But he had to give her credit for showing up, for being willing to stick her neck out, and even risk her life. “This isn't required, you know. They call us the cowboys of the outfit, and we're all a little crazy. No one is going to think you're a sissy if you back out.” He was giving her a chance to leave now, before it was too late. He thought it only fair to her. She had no idea what was in store.

“Jeff will think I'm a sissy.” She smiled at him, and he laughed.

“Yeah. Maybe. So what? Who gives a shit. You wanna go, Opie? Or you wanna bag it? Either way. No shame. Call your shot.” She thought about it for a long moment, and looked at Bob long and hard. She took a breath then, for the smallest of seconds ready to change her mind, and then as she looked at him, she realized she felt safe with him. She didn't know him from Adam, but she sensed that she could trust him, and she was right. The other van honked then. Jeff was getting impatient and couldn't understand the delay, as Bob waited for Ophélie to decide. “You in or out?”

She exhaled slowly as she looked at him, and the word came out of her mouth of its own accord. “In.”

“All right!” he said, with a grin, as he stepped on the gas, and the convoy of loaded vans lumbered out of the garage. It was seven o'clock at night.





16

FOR THE NEXT EIGHT HOURS, OPHÉLIE SAW THINGS THAT she had never dreamed existed, and surely not within only a few miles of her house. They went to areas she had never known, down back alleys that made her shudder, and saw people so far beyond her ken that it nearly ripped out her heart. People with scabs on their faces, covered with sores, with rags on their feet instead of shoes, or without even that, barefoot and sometimes half-naked in the cold. At other times, there were clean, neat, decent-looking people hiding in corners under bridges and sleeping under cardboard and newspaper on dirt. And everywhere they went, there were thank-yous and God-bless-yous when they left. It was a long, slow, agonizing night. And yet at the same time, Ophélie had never felt such peace, or joy, or a sense of purpose to equal it, except maybe the nights she had given birth to Chad and Pip. This was almost like that.

And for most of the night, she and Bob moved as one. He didn't need to tell her what to do. All you had to do was follow your heart. The rest was obvious. Where sleeping bags were needed, you gave them, or warm clothes. Jeff and Millie were dispensing the medicines and hygiene supplies. And when they found a camp of runaways near the loading docks far South of Market, Bob wrote the location down. He explained to Ophélie that there was another outreach program for juvenile runaways. He was going to give them the address in the morning, and they would come out and try to talk them in. Only a few were ever willing to leave the streets. Even more than the adults, they distrusted the shelters and programs. And they didn't want to be sent home. More often than not, what the young ones were fleeing from was worse than what they encountered on the streets.

“A lot of them have been out here for years. It's safer for them most of the time than where they've been. The programs try for reunification with their families, but a lot of times no one gives a damn. Their parents don't even care where they've been. They come here from all over the country, and they just wander around, living on the streets till they grow up.”

“And then what?” Ophélie asked with a look of despair. She had never seen so many people in such desperate need, with so little means for relief. They were almost, or appeared to be, a lost cause. The forgotten people, as Bob called them. And she had never seen people so grateful for the little help they got. Some of them just stood there and cried.