{"id":2093,"date":"2019-04-09T07:24:46","date_gmt":"2019-04-09T11:24:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=2093"},"modified":"2022-08-10T13:55:17","modified_gmt":"2022-08-10T17:55:17","slug":"shine-the-light","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/shine-the-light\/","title":{"rendered":"Shine the Light"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Shine the Light<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by April McGowan<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\nShannon is out to save the world one caring act at a time. She’s stood by her best friend, Amber, through their whole lives especially when Amber lost her sight. She has an active outreach ministry to the homeless and disenfranchised. And she’s even let down her guard long enough to let a boyfriend, Justin, into her life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her life has settled into a pleasing routine of teaching, freelance photography work, quiet dinners with Justin, and taking Amber on treks to find new subjects for her visionary paintings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But when a man from her past shows up, her secure world crumbles into triggered PTSD episodes that threaten everything she relies on. Will she be able to overcome these old memories, or will her past crush any hopes she had for a future?<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

A man reeking of body\nodor and urine shuffled by Shannon, an emptiness akin to a black hole shadowing\nhis eyes. The soiled navy colored blanket slung over his shoulders enshrouded\nhim like burial cloths that he clung to with nicotine-stained fingers. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\nfocused her camera on those fingers and then on the man\u2019s eyes, capturing his\ndespair. As she took his photograph, Shannon\u2019s heart wrenched in sympathy. She\nglanced up the sidewalk dotted with the lost and homeless. Treat\neach as an individual and love them the best you can. To do anything\nelse would overwhelm Shannon. She tucked her Cannon Mark II away in her\nbackpack and turned to those others who sat waiting. Only waiting. For a\nhandout, for the weather to change, for time to pass. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019d\ngiven that man a Ziploc packet with socks, protein bar, bottle of water, and a\ndonated paperback of Golden Apples in the Sun. She\nmight never see him again, or she\u2019d see him next week. Homelessness overwhelmed\nher some days, but doing nothing was more abhorrent to her than doing\nsomething. She had to do something. She was thankful\nfor all the books she\u2019d collected from library cast off sales\u2014and donations\nfrom friends who had more books than they knew what to do with. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\nhanded off another packet to the life-worn homeless woman in front of her. The\nwoman took it with grateful hands. They exchanged a smile before Shannon moved\non down the block. Sometimes she felt like a bandage over a crack in the wall\nof a dam. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nair, heavy with an autumn musk, mixed with the late day heat radiating from the\nconcrete office buildings that towered above them. Overhead, a sliver of blue\nsky and silky clouds funneled the day\u2019s last light down to them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Queen\nSusie, one of the oldest women Shannon had met on the streets, moved toward\nher, holey boots scuffing the sidewalk as she pushed her rolling seat-walker\nahead of her. Shannon greeted her and handed her a packet. Susie must have\naccumulated quite a library by this point if she\u2019d had anywhere to store the\nbooks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Queen\nSusie tucked the packet into the makeshift saddlebags that adorned her walker.\nShe jangled the tattered Styrofoam change cup as a call for alms, but as a\ndelivery truck raced by, honking angrily at a pedestrian, she lost her grip.\nShannon caught the cup before it crashed to the sidewalk, spilling the old\nwoman\u2019s gatherings for the day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCareful\nthere, Queen Susie.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Queen\nSusie flashed Shannon a grateful grin and blinked at her from her one good eye.\nThe other socket sagged open, the eye having been lost to infection many years\nago. It was hard to look at, but she\u2019d stopped trying to cover it when she\nfound her deformity garnered larger donations. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s\nmy rheumatism.\u201d Queen Susie took the cup in her stained, gnarled fingers and\nslid it into a holder she\u2019d fashioned from duct tape on her chair. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nknow, sweetie. How are you and Magic Stan doing? You have a safe place to sleep\ntonight?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Queen\nSusie locked on her with her good eye. \u201cIt\u2019s a secret.\u201d She nodded as if to\ndraw Shannon into her conspiracy. \u201cMy Stan keeps us safe and sound.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSpeaking\nof, where is Magic Stan this evening?\u201d Shannon was surprised he was out of\nearshot of Queen Susie. They usually traveled together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s\non his way.\u201d Queen Susie spoke of Stan like he was her personal attendant. And\nit often seemed that way to Shannon. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\nhave a safe night, now. Okay?\u201d She\u2019d love to take Stan and Susie home, but she\nknew better than to put herself at risk. She had to opt for the next best\nthing\u2014keeping an eye on them out here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Despite\nits being a hot fall, the nights were turning chilly in downtown Portland. The\nsunlight faded along with the busy traffic, blending into the buildings as\nstreetlights flickered to life. Nearby restaurants opened their patios for\ndinner and somewhere in the distance someone started to play a piano. Dinner\naromas of grilled onions wisped on the breeze. Shannon took out her Cannon and\ntook a shot of the light, wanting to describe it to her best friend later. If\nonly Amber could see the way it shone. But Amber\u2019s recent blindness kept her\nfrom experiencing that ever again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nnext best thing was to describe it to her and for Shannon to watch as Amber\u2019s\ninterpretation formed on the canvasses she painted on. Often what Amber\nexpressed caught the emotion of the moment even better than the camera. After\nlosing her sight last year, she\u2019d learned a new way to share her internal\nvision with the world around her\u2014and the world connected with it. Orders for\nAmber\u2019s paintings had picked up significantly in the past few months, and she\nwas running out of subject matter. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\nwas too, truth be told. Many of her photographs weren\u2019t anything like Amber\u2019s\nwork, but they helped pay the bills. Not everyone wanted photos of the homeless\nto adorn their living spaces. There was something there, though, that drew her\nto their plight. Often a wisdom of a shared humanity and how precious life was.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And\nmaybe, if she was able to communicate that to another, they would see the\nhomeless as hurting people, rather than just obstacles on the sidewalks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In\nany case, she needed to plan a road trip for them\u2014just the girls. They\u2019d had\nlittle time together since Amber and Ethan had started seeing each other. Hope\nrose inside at the idea. It\u2019d been a hard year. No matter how well things were\ngoing for Amber now, the last year had blurred into one of survival as Amber\nadjusted to her new sight loss and Shannon took on the role of comforter and\nencourager. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\nwas ready to live again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\ntapping noise caught her attention, and she glanced up to see Magic Stan\nlimping his way toward them down the street, his antique cane clicking on the\nsidewalk, top hat slanted just so over his mass of oily graying hair. At the\nsame time, Shannon caught sight of Justin, her boyfriend, heading her way, a\nlook of worry on his face. He didn\u2019t entirely trust Stan. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\ncouldn\u2019t blame him. She knew very well the irrational unpredictability of those\nwith mental illness\u2014and Magic Stan suffered from multiple delusions. He was\nplaywright and actor and magician. And the top orator of Burnside Boulevard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNew\nbooks, Miss Shannon?\u201d Magic Stan used an aloof tone that served to feed Queen\nSusie\u2019s idea of being lost royalty. They were quite a pair. With Magic around,\nShannon knew she didn\u2019t have to worry over much about Queen Susie being mugged\nfor her few earthy belongings. He\u2019d dash the brains out of anyone who even\nlooked askance at his queen and adopted street mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin\ncame up and handed Magic Stan a Ziploc packet\u2014this one held a copy of Great Expectations which Stan whipped out and caressed with\ndeep affection. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cKind,\nsir.\u201d Stan flipped open the pages and inhaled deeply. \u201cNothing like that aroma\nin the world.\u201d Stan gave Justin a cursory glance, eyes homing in on his neck.\n\u201cAnother tattoo, my boy? You\u2019ll never get a wife with all that ink. It isn\u2019t\ndistinguished.\u201d Stan\u2019s gray, bushy eyebrows drew together in disapproval.\nJustin laughed it off, but Shannon came to his defense. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\ncleared her throat and pointed out her own purple-tipped hair, piercings, and\ntattoos, particularly the tiny cross near her left eye\u2014the one that covered the\nscar given to her by a fellow foster kid. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut\nyou\u2019re not married, either.\u201d Magic Stan crossed his arms. \u201cYou look like one of\nthose girls from the Korean punk band I saw down by the waterfront.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\nStan, I\u2019m not Korean, I\u2019m part Thai. And as for marriage\u2014there are worse things\nthan being single.\u201d She sensed Justin stiffen next to her, but moved ahead.\n\u201cThanks, though, that you think I look like I could be in a band.\u201d She laughed\nat Stan\u2019s further scowl and gave him an extra protein bar. Then she and Justin\nmoved down the street, offering several more packets and books.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019d\nlove more than anything to house every one of them on this street and make sure\neach one had a hot meal and warm bath. But there were too many. They multiplied\nevery year. The camps by the mission and under the bridges swelled to capacity.\nIn the city of Portland alone, camping along roadsides and in parks. Makeshift\nRV parks were cropping up along streets in otherwise residential neighborhoods,\nleaving garbage and waste. There simply wasn\u2019t enough room for them all. And\nwinter was around the corner. Some would go south for warmer pastures, trading\nout the damp, incessant Oregon rain. Many, like Stan and Susie, were too infirm\nto move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As\nthey finished up for the day, she and Justin hoofed up the hill to his car.\nHe\u2019d been very quiet the past hour. Quiet even for Justin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\ndid good.\u201d Feeling the chill and dampness of an oncoming rain, Shannon untied\nher light jacket from around her waist and tugged it on. \u201cAre you up for this\nagain next week?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\nshrugged. His eyes carried the shadow of their earlier argument. \u201cI\u2019ve got a\nlot going on. I\u2019ll let you know.\u201d Justin smiled slightly, but it didn\u2019t look\ngenuine. She could see the hurt in his eyes and her stomach clenched. If only\nhe\u2019d be willing to keep their relationship right where it was, she would have\nnever had to break his heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEverything\nokay?\u201d She kept her voice light and encouraging\u2014pretending all was well. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust\ngot a lot on my mind.\u201d He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. He looked deep\ninto her eyes, and she saw a longing there she couldn\u2019t answer. Then he turned\nto get in his car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They\u2019d\noften finish up one of their days by grabbing dinner together, but he made no\nsuch offer this time. Something inside told her to stop him, to talk it over\nbefore he left\u2014to try and make him understand. But she said nothing. Shannon\nwasn\u2019t going to change her mind. She wished he understood. He used to\u2014or so\nshe\u2019d thought. Turns out he was just counting on wearing her down until she\u2019d\nagree that marriage wasn\u2019t the bad idea she knew it to be. At least for her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin\nrolled down his Fiat\u2019s windows and turned on the stereo. Rap music pounded\nthrough the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll\ncall you tomorrow.\u201d She waved. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pursing\nhis lips in thought, he nodded but didn\u2019t wave back. Her stomach sank three\nnotches. As he pulled into traffic and headed away, she waited for the customary\nlight tap of his car\u2019s horn. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\ndidn\u2019t come.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\nstood on the corner and watched him crest the next hill and disappear. She\ngulped for breath, drowning under the weight of her decision. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her\nphone text sounded, and she pulled it out, hoping. It wasn\u2019t him. Instead she\nread Amber\u2019s text, inviting her for dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just us girls? Shannon\ntapped back. She could use some one-on-one with Amber.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Girls\nand boys. Ethan\u2019s here, Amber texted back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nhard knot of emotion worked its way up into her throat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not tonight. Shannon\ncouldn\u2019t bear to watch Ethan dote on Amber. Or worse that lovesick look in\nAmber\u2019s unseeing eyes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

You okay? Amber\u2019s Spidey\nsense was on full force, it seemed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yep. Gotta run. Say hi to Ethan. She put her phone on silent and tucked it into her pocket. She\u2019d never\nlied to Amber before. Not bold-faced in type like that. But what could she say?\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Things\nbetween Justin and her had been shaky at best the past few months. He wanted\nmore. Shannon knew giving more really meant giving all\u2014and she\u2019d seen the\ndamage of giving all too many times. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\nwalked up 9th Street, past a stream of homeless heading south to the missions for\nthe night. She tromped up the hill toward the food trucks, many of which were\nshuttering for the night, hoping Pho-Mazing wasn\u2019t closed yet. Getting there in\ntime, she ordered soup and spring-wrapped tofu rolls and started the hike back\nto her studio apartment in China Town. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Walking\nnever bothered her. She loved the feel of the city around her, its life of joys\nand sorrows ran through her blood. She never wanted to live anywhere else. She\ndidn\u2019t want anything in her life to change. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nthought of Justin. Her wants mattered little, it seemed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nbus whooshed by her, and she picked up her pace, passing the church where Amber\nattended her support group. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBeautiful\ngirl.\u201d The gravelly voice coming from a slumped man on the corner startled her.\n\u201cI have a beautiful Asian girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nhairs on the back of Shannon\u2019s neck rose to attention. She reached in her\npocket for her pepper spray, finger on the trigger. The man didn\u2019t approach\nher, though. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nhad two. One\u2019s dead. Long dead. So beautiful.\u201d The man sobbed into his dirty\nhands. His knit cap and oversized pea jacket hid most of him from her, but even\nso, Shannon knew most of the regulars from their clothes. She didn\u2019t recognize\nhim. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf\nyou head east on Burnside, you\u2019ll find the missions\u2014Gospel Union and Portland\nRescue. They can give you a meal. A bed is more of a challenge, but your belly\nwill be full.\u201d She kept her distance. Being alone on the streets talking to a\nstrange homeless man wasn\u2019t something even she, streetwise and comfortable\nworking with the homeless, felt good about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy\nlittle one. So pretty. Lost her. Lost her.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\ncouldn\u2019t tell if he was mentally ill, drunk, or both. She remembered the one\nlast packet in her backpack and swung it off to reach for it. Still, she kept\nher pepper spray in her other hand, on the ready.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStolen.\u201d\nHe sighed and tilted back his head, looking up into Shannon\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her\nvery marrow went cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\ntook her. Took her from me. Mine. But they took her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\ncouldn\u2019t be. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everything\nin her balked. Daniel. She hadn\u2019t laid eyes on him in years. They\u2019d told her he\nwas most likely dead. Even when she\u2019d heard a rumor he might be around, she\nhadn\u2019t believed it. Not really. But here he was, alive and well. Well, at least\nalive. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\ndidn\u2019t take her. You threw her away,\u201d she hissed at him, but he took no notice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\nwanted to scream at him, thrash him. It was all she could do not to go into\nhysterics. She whipped around to leave and saw the line of homeless leaning\nagainst buildings or sitting on curbs, opening their packets, heads inclined\nover books, hope or comfort or relief reflecting on their faces. The crinkling\ndeadweight of the last packet hung heavy in her hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If\nthere was anyone else there besides Daniel, Shannon would have offered it to\nthem. Anyone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead,\nshe cinched up her backpack, shoved her pepper spray back in her pocket, and\ntook a step away. Her hot soup, dangling in the bag of her other hand, sloshed\nas if to remind her of what it was like when she had nothing to eat at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And\nwho\u2019s fault was that? She started to take another step, but before she could\nmove, her legs betrayed her and turned her back around. Shannon saw how\nDaniel\u2019s eyes transfixed on the packet. His shaky, grime-encrusted fingers\nreached out toward her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Always\ntaking. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shannon\ntossed the packet at his feet, staying out of reach, and stormed away, anger\nfueling her as she went up three blocks and came back two, going through an\nally here and side street there. She didn\u2019t want him following her. She didn\u2019t\nwant him knowing where she lived. She didn\u2019t want him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her\nfather had no business being alive.
<\/p>\n\n\n