January 2002

I tried my best to bring closure to as many of the victims as I could, but very rarely do you find a grieving family willing to talk to an unwashed hobo about their lost love one. By late October, I started drinking, and drinking heavily. I guess I hoped that the liquor would dampen down the roaring crowd inside my skull. Instead, I found myself suffering from some of the most vivid nightmares one could imagine. The dreams didn’t keep me from wallowing in my own misery for the next two months as I sunk lower and lower in my stupor. I would probably have died on the streets of the city if it wasn’t for the New York police department.

The city’s vagrancy law is famously well-enforced, and I fell victim to it in mid-January. After a few hours spent in the drunk tank, where I quickly found myself repulsed by my fellow winos, I was rescued from my cage by a young social worker. And, oh, what a social worker. Iniri Granatella was five and a half feet of mocha-colored hotness.

I’d like to say our first meeting went well despite the conditions, but when your fellow cellmates scream “terrorist” at the first sight of your social worker, it’s a little hard. My hangover was all but gone as she brought me to one of the jail’s sparse interview rooms.

“I’m sorry for that,” I said as I took a seat at our table.

“It’s all right,” she said. She sat down across from me. “It’s something I’ve came to get used to in the last few months. It’s sad really. My dad’s African American and my mom came from India when she was in high school. I’m not Arab, and I’m a hundred percent American, but it doesn’t stop the bigoted, I suppose.”

She looked up at me for the first time. I smiled. She raised an eyebrow and a puzzled look came across her face.

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Freedom Patton.”

“Why can’t I read you?”

Now it was my turn to look confused.

“Mr. Patton, my name’s Iniri Granatella.” She offered me her hand and I shook it. “I’m a low level telepath and telekine. My abilities come in handy in my job, helping homeless individuals like yourself avoid jail time. Generally, I can easily determine who honestly wants my help, but I can’t read you at all.”

I smiled. “I guess that just makes me extra special.”

Iniri didn’t seem as amused by my attempt at humor. “I’m still willing to help you get your life on track, Freedom. The group I work for provides services to help you get you life back on track. We’ll help you find a job, housing, and a variety of other functions to help you become a functioning member of society once again.”

“Unless you know a way to lay a thousand souls to rest, you can’t help me.” I was exaggerating the number a bit by that point, but I didn’t let it slow me down.

“Did you lose family in the Towers?”

“You could say that.”

Iniri rested her hand on my forearm. I looked up at her and she gave me a sort of half-grin. “If you’re willing,” she said, “I think I have just the job for you.” She told me and I got to say it sounded pretty dang good.

*****

I joined the Towers clean-up crew three days later, on a Monday morning. Iniri set me up in a less than desirable shelter over the weekend, but I managed to get cleaned up and changed in to some new clothes. Iniri promised she would find me some where to live by the end of my first day.

By the time I started, the job consisted mostly of clearing small bits of remaining rubble and clearing away the surviving foundation. Probably a good thing, as I didn’t really need any voices telling me how to handle their remains.

Iniri kept her promise as well, showing up right at five o’clock to give me a ride from the work site in her Taurus. We shot out in to the New York streets, where Iniri tried her best to imitate every story about terrible New York drivers you’ve ever heard.

Iniri asked me questions on the trip and I told her as much of my story as I could, leaving out any mention of nuthouses and voices in my head.

“But why New York and why now?” Iniri asked. “Family?”

“I just felt I needed to be here.”

She didn’t say anything in response to that.

“So why do you do what you do?” I asked.

She glanced over at me from behind the wheel and smiled. “Kind of like you, I guess. I wanted to help people, but with the Koch Act, New York has zero tolerance towards vigilantes. I tried to make it on the police force, but they didn’t have any need for any low-level ’paths. So I figured I’d use my power to help clean up the streets by getting people off of them. It took me only a few months at work before I hooked up with the Arnold Institute.”

“What are they?”

“They’re who’s funding all this for you, and for about two hundred other former vagrants. It’s a great organization, and I’m right on the frontline for them here.”

“Good for you,” I said. “That’s way more than my worthless ass has accomplished.”

She smiled again. “That’s no way to talk, Freedom. We’ve all had our bad times and our failures.”

An uncomfortable silence followed. Thankfully, we pulled in to our destination only a minute later. I got only a bit of a glance before we pulled in to the underground parking ramp, but the massive brick structure almost screamed projects. Not great, but far better than the streets.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Iniri said. “You ready to see your new place?”

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

I followed her out of the car and in to the main building. She hit the button for the elevator, and, miraculously, it worked. We rode the elevator up twelve floors in silence.

Apartment 12D was just off to one side of the elevator. The drab carpet was less stained here than in other parts of the hallway though the dull yellow glow of the lights didn’t help its appearance any. Iniri pulled the key out of her pocked and handed it to me.

“Go ahead. Check out your new apartment.”

I took the key and used it to open both locks on the door. It swung open and I stepped inside. Iniri came in right behind me, flipping on the light.

The apartment could best be described as dingy. The walls were covered with a layer of white paint, but already the dingy yellow color of the previous layer showed through. A single mattress lay on top of a rusted frame directly in front of us, and that marked all the furniture in my new home. A small kitchenette lay in the hallway just past that, while a door to my left opened on a bathroom with a tiny shower, a sink, and one of the scariest toilets I’d ever seen. Looking back it was pretty bad, but I’ve stayed in far worse places since.

“Well,” Iniri said. “What do you think about it?”

I turned back to her. “I could lie and say it’s everything I ever dreamed of, but honestly, it’s far better than the street.

She continued to smile at me. I smiled back at her as our eyes met. I probably looked like a big dope as big as that grin probably was.

Iniri lunged towards me, planting her lips against my own. Within seconds the two of us were lost in the passion of that kiss, not to mention the several more that followed.

Iniri kicked the door shut as she pushed me back to the bed. We tore each other clothes off as we rolled around on the bed. Nothing about that first time was tender or sweet. We went at each other like wild animals. We came together and afterwards, we lay next to each, staring at the ceiling, deep in the afterglow.

I turned over towards her. “Wow.”

She looked over at me and than rolled away. “I don’t normally do things like this.”

“Trust me. Neither do I.”

“No, that’s not it. You’re a client, a part of the project. It’s just-” She rolled to a sitting position on the other side of the bed.

I rolled over to sit behind her, my body pressed against her back. “What? What is it?”

She looked back over her shoulder and me and I tried my best to avoid my body’s reaction to seeing her beautiful brown skin as it brushed against me. I failed miserably, but she ignored my rising erection poking her in the back.

“It’s just that you’re different from most guys,” she said. Uh oh. Different was so rarely good. “I barely can read you, I mean. The only time I picked up anything from you was just a few minutes ago. During it. And it was still only surface thoughts.” She stopped for a moment as I wrapped my arms around her. She let out a faint sigh of pleasure at my touch.

“Most guys are thinking the crudest things when we’re together, usually about me, but sometime about other women. Hell, one ever thought about another guy. And you may very well be thinking the same thoughts, but I can’t tell. What I’m saying, I guess, is I like the mystery. I’d like to explore that mystery with you.”

I smiled. “You don’t even have to ask.” I leaned in to kiss her.

We kissed again. And again. We spent the rest of the night in each others arms, lost in the passion of new lover.

It was the first really good night I’d had in months. Sadly, those good vibes wouldn’t last long past that night.