Auberon examined the five crisp, green bills in his hand with intense scrutiny. It wasn’t paper– at least not any paper he’d ever seen. An old woman’s face was emblazoned on one side, while the other side showed an image of two stone monuments. There was a curious transparent strip that ran through it which seemed to shimmer in different colors depending on how he looked at it. There were also a series of bumps in the paper. He could not fathom what purpose they served.

Money. Canadian money. A hundred bucks, he’d been told by the man he had gotten it from.

He didn’t steal it– no, it was fair-earned, and if Auberon was correct, it was an eighth of what they needed to keep Ziggy safe.

He could also use it to purchase goods and supplies for himself.

Auberon had heard from Ezra about a man who was looking to hire men from the park to help tear down walls in an old building. He’d been given a massive hammer and left to his devices with three others while they listened to a radio and bashed their way through old walls, wood, and dust.

Auberon preferred not to speak much. He was used to that sort of heavy labour, and he found the act of tearing down walls to be strangely comforting.

And now he had a hundred bucks. The bills were unlike anything he’d ever seen. He’d thought the currency of Canada had been their coins of nickel and copper– but it was clear that their higher denominations were made of the strange shiny paper.

Nonetheless, it was his now, and Ezra had warned him to keep it close at hand. There were plenty who would try to take it from him when he wasn’t looking.

Auberon almost wished they would try.

Still, the man who had hired him seemed interested in bringing him back for more work– but it would require boots. Not just any type of boot, but steel-toed boots. Ezra had to explain them to him– they were specialized boots for workers with a shield of hard metal designed to protect the feet from blunt forces.

Auberon felt it all rather silly. If he was stupid enough to hurt his foot, that was Auberon’s own fault for not being careful. Either way, it was a requirement of the job.

The way Auberon saw it, working for money was easier than holding out a hat for spare change to buy lunch– he got more of it, and it was a guarantee. Begging, on the other hand, could go either way. As Ezra said, there were goods days where people felt generous, and there were bad days when you were spat on.

Auberon hadn’t been spit on yet, but he hadn’t exactly embraced the art of panhandling, either.

So, he could either buy a new pair of these specialized work boots, find a used pair at a strangely-named shop called the Salvation Army, or see if a pair had made its way into the donation piles at some of the area soup kitchens.

That was what brought him back to The Door is Open again. That time, he had arrived after opening and was able to walk right inside.

“Hi!” he was greeted immediately upon entering. It was the touched boy. The one who had been berated when last he was there. The boy was beaming at him.

Auberon looked at the boy. “Hello,” he said suspiciously.

The boy didn’t seem to want to wait for a response before he continued. “My sister said I should thank you. But I didn’t know if I would see you again. But you came back! I’m Bryan. What’s your name?”

No matter the language, the touched were often fast talkers. “I’m Auberon,” he explained.

“Hi Auberon. How do you spell that?”

Auberon blinked. “I… not knowing,” he admitted. “Ezra names me Obie,” he explained.

“Oh I can spell that! O-B! O-B! Are you hungry, Obie? We have tacos today. I like tacos, but my mom says they make me fart.” He giggled uncontrollably.

“I… I look for… boots,” Auberon explained, then put a finger up. “Steel-toed.”

“I can ask Steve. I’ll tell him it’s for Obie! You’ll like Steve. He runs this place. He’s a nice man.” He turned around and waved in the air, catching the attention of someone across the room– Auberon looked up. It was Lauren, the boy’s sister. The pretty girl who could not hear.

Auberon watched as the two of them spoke using hand signals from across the room. He found it all rather fascinating. They were clearly passing messages to each other from a distance in absolute silence.

“Lauren says she’ll get Steve. Lauren’s my sister. She said you were really nice and I should thank you,” he repeated. “You should get some tacos! Lauren can help you when she gets back! You want me to show you the way?”

Auberon shook his head. “I will… get eat, Bryan. Is okay. You–”

“Here, I can get you a plate!” Bryan said, rushing off toward the dishes.

“No,” Auberon said. “No, please. Bryan. You rest. Is okay,” Auberon said. He was honored that the young man was so eager to speak to Auberon. In Embrayya, to be favored by one of the touched was considered a great honor. Auberon didn’t feel deserving of that honor, even from a touched Outworlder.

“I don’t mind. I’m off now,” Bryan said, then beckoned for Auberon to join him.

Reluctantly, Auberon got up and followed the young man to where the tacos were being served.

As he arrived, Lauren came out of a small room behind the table, followed by an older gentleman.

“You’re Obie?” the man asked.

Auberon seemed shocked the man knew his name. He wasn’t well known by any stretch, so how–

–of course. The hand-language spoken by Bryan and his sister.

“Yes,” Auberon replied.

“Steve Milner,” he said, reaching his hand out. Auberon shook the hand back. “Lauren said you were looking for some steel-toed boots?”

Auberon nodded, in awe. The hand-language was so unbelievably detailed, it came to him as a shock.

“Well we’ve got nothing in the back,” he said. He reached into his pocket and produced a white card, then handed it to Auberon. “There’s a place just down past Hastings and Main, it’s called Get in Gear. Give him that, tell him what you need, and he’ll get you some boots.”

Auberon looked down to the card. It had inked markings on it. Writing that Auberon couldn’t identify.

But he also didn’t quite understand what the man had told him. He spoke more quickly than Bryan!

“I… not know–”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Where are you from, Obie?”

“Eastern Europe,” Auberon replied. “Estonia.”

“That’s near Belarus, isn’t it? What brings you to Canada?”

Auberon didn’t like this line of questioning. “Home is… different,” he said.

Steve seemed to get the idea that he might be prying a bit too much. He smiled and pointed to the card. “This card will help you find work boots,” he said. “You know where Hastings is?”

“Hastings. Yes.” Hastings was the name of the street where the vast majority of homeless campers had set up shop.

“And Main?”

He nodded again.

“Okay, bring this card to a place called Get in Gear. It’s got a big orange sign. You know orange, right?”

“Orange– is food?”

“No, no,” Steve began. “I mean, well. Yes, but not the fruit. The color. Which is also the color of the fruit.” He shook his head. “The sign is the same color as the fruit. You understand?”

He nodded again. “Yes. Orange color sign. Get in Gear. Hastings and Main.” He held the card aloft. “Card.”

“Yeah give him that, tell him your size, and he’ll get you sorted.”

“Okay,” he said. “Sorted.”

Steve turned to Lauren and also began to use the hand-language. Auberon couldn’t help but be amazed by it even further. He used the one sign he remembered from the other day.

Thank you, he signed to Lauren.

She swept her hand toward her body. Your welcome, it meant.

He smiled, then looked to Steve. “How you… how you learn this? Language signs?”

“ASL?” Steve asked. “Learned it from my aunt growing up. Deaf as a stone, bless her heart. But one of the kindest women I’ve ever known. Why, are you interested?”

“No,” he said. “I… I not good to learning. Not speak, not read.”

Steve smirked, then looked over to Lauren again and signed to her. After a moment, she looked to Auberon and smiled, signing toward him.

“She says you should come to Happy Hour,” he said.

“What is… Happy Hour?”

“Every night at eight we have a little gathering here,” he said. “We share what we’re going through, what we struggle with, little victories. Things like that. Lauren and I host it, so if you’re interested in learning ASL, you’re welcome to come by and see. Zero tolerance drinking or drugs, though.”

Auberon considered it for a moment. What good was sharing his thoughts with strangers going to do?

Still, he was curious about the hand language. He saw the use for such a detailed method of silent communication. He also spared a thought about speaking with Lauren.

He had to admit, despite the fact that she was an Outworlder, it wasn’t unappealing.

“Okay,” he said. “I come.”

Steve smiled, then made a fist and moved it up and down toward Lauren. Lauren threw her arms in the air in a show of excitement, then started to sign at him again.

“Great,” Steve said. “We meet at eight. Glad to have you, Obie!” He clapped Auberon on the shoulder from across the table. “We just got a new clothing donation we’re sorting through in the back,” he said. “If you’re willing to help out, I’ll give you first pick.”

Auberon could definitely have used a better-fitting pair of trousers. He nodded, then followed Steve into the back room.