Charity

When I wake up the sun is already high in the sky but I am still tired and I feel like I haven't slept a single moment. Dad is long gone when I finally make my way downstairs. I barely notice myself starting to clean the house again, it does not feel like a chore, it is soothing to my mind to be able to work my body in this way. Cleaning is instinct and doing so reduces my craving to cook. It is probably a good thing that this house is as old as it is, there is quite a lot to clean every day. I can't imagine myself enjoying a stay in a hotel anymore, cleaning is part of my routine now, just as important as sleep. Trough I still ignore the second bedroom on the second level, but it isn't easy. I know that it needs to be cleaned thoroughly and this knowledge nags at the back of my mind while I am inside the house.

It feels like no time at all has passed when I have finished my new daily chores, the Sun has barely moved as well. When I store away the cleaning tools I barely notice the broom that I used has already disappeared. I chalk it up to being distracted by my thoughts and strip out of my old T-Shirt and Jeans to wear a dress which at one point probably belonged to my mother, the skirt is too long and there is a lot of unnecessary space around my upper body, but it is still better than anything I have left in the wardrobe. My best clothes, the same ones I wore yesterday are still in the washing machine and everything else I own is either too short or too worn out to be called decent.

I am planning to go on a shopping spree today, but first I am going to the Food-Kitchen at the Baptist Church. Maybe I will be able to get some donated clothes there as well. One the way I notice the same thing I observed yesterday. People looking at me, with more interest and more persistent than they normally would, more than even my new beauty warrants, I am still developing after all and even small children are staring at me. It probably is part of my new powers, but none of the gazes seem to be overly negative and most are actually quite nice. I like people looking at me, I like it when they smile and I have never received and reciprocated so many greetings and friendly nods. I feel almost like a celebrity, like someone known and liked by all but the most hateful. Maybe that is what the Heroes feel when patrolling the streets, though I don't think they would get nods from the group of skinheads I passed just now.

It is strange how my life has changed, my last remaining relative can barely look at me and my best friend has betrayed me, but suddenly strangers don't mind me and even seem inclined to enjoy my presence. I have triggered with powers that make everyone like me, except of course the people which really matter, it is just like the Article on PHO said, powers depend on the trigger event and seem to help at first, but in the end, they will only make things worse. I can already see it with my dad, in the last months he hasn't talked much, hasn't done anything with me really, but yesterday he could barely even look at me and I fear that my actions have only worsened the situation.

Lost in thought I miss the Church completely and almost walk into the scrapyard, it's only because of the unusual amount of steel rods on the ground, that I even notice where I am. Lucky for me there is no one around and the Church is still visible over the roofs, but how I ended up farther away from the church than I was at the start is a conundrum. This time I take my time and carefully check where I am going every few meters and walk into multiple back ends and impassable allays, some of which I am sure were in a different place last time I walked around these parts. The Church is in a very safe neighborhood, something about the rich and powerful of the city wanting to keep their spouses safe and protected during the Sunday mass. The church is one of the few institutes which have increased their power in the last decades, `faith is for the desperate` is something my mother used to say.

The area around the church is lively and even a little crowded. Tourists and Office-Workers are bustling around while there is a long queue at the leftmost side building inside the church grounds. That is probably the food kitchen and judging from the amount of homeless waiting in line, they can not afford to spurn anyone's help. But getting in might be more troublesome than I thought.

Getting in is a lot easier than I thought, one question to the friendly-looking nun working in the enclosed garden and I am skimming potatoes inside the kitchen. Apparently the nun I asked, sister Magret, was the head of the nuns order in charge of the charity work in Brockton and they were understaffed today because the hospital had asked for additional support during the night. Tobias, the scullion in charge of the dishes told me that there had been a major gang fight tonight and a lot of wounded and dying wanted the counseling of a pious believer rather than and I quote 'dour old men, who have seen more of the insides of a person than would be healthy.'.

Nuns are apparently in high demand and even ever-growing orders like the one sister Magret belongs to have a shortage of able-bodied women from time to time. Which, according to Tobias, is the only reason he was allowed to work for his meal today. He is a regular at this place, has been for years through he looks not even 20 years old and this is only the 3rd time he was allowed to work for his meal. Normally he tells me the nuns see it as their duty to take care of everyone without payment and if one wants to repay them they were told to do a good dead for the people outside.

I am really starting to admire the nuns for being such good people in a cruel world like this, I don't think I could do the same. Cleaning and cooking for others maybe, but giving spiritual counsel to the sick and easing their last days is not something I feel capable of. A single death, granted it was my mothers and that is a lot worse than the death of a stranger even multiple strangers, was already enough to destroy me. I am sure they have lost loved ones before and I can not imagine how they can endure being reminded of that so often.

The day passes by with a mixture of Tobias chatter and a huge amount of menial work, I don't get to really cook at all through I get to clean a lot. My powers seem satisfied with that and I think I have made some friends in the nuns working in the kitchen. I would have never thought nuns would have such a dark sense of humor, but it seems like my life experience is seriously lacking. I haven't even heard about half of the things the nuns are chattering about and I am sure that I have blushed at least as often as Tobias did. Poor Tobias was more often than not the but of the joke and I am starting to wonder if the reason the nuns don't allow others to help them in an effort to protect their image. A lot of people would be shocked to hear pious nuns talk about their experiences in bed while exchanging tips they got from sex workers at the hospital. Since my aura makes me more likable to the people around me they included me without much fuss and if sister Magret hadn't saved me from time to time I would have either fainted from blushing or left running. It is only thanks to her that I managed to eat my midday meal, Potato soup with veal strips in cream and mushroom sauce, in peace.

I stay at the Church until the late afternoon. It is the most fun if had in months, the nuns are accepting and fun to be around. They don't ask why someone as young as me is coming to work and they even give me food for two to take home, they probably noticed how hungry I was during lunch, even trough I ate slowly and with grace. A few days ago I would not have done anything with grace, but it comes naturally now. Etiquette, decorum, manners, courtesy even complex protocols are natural to me now, like a princess who has learned all of this since she was a toddler and is proficient enough for courtly protocols to be instinctive. Sister Magret even compliments me on my good manners and my diligent attitude. It has been so long since I have been given an honest compliment, that I don't know how to deal with it, but my bow and sincere thank-you are perfect examples of court protocol. Some of the other nuns make fun of me for my good manners and perfect posture but it is all in good humor and they are more often than not the butt of each other's jokes so I don't mind it. The atmosphere is so warm and accepting that I have a hard time reconciling it with my lifetime of experience in Brockton Bay. Nothing like this has happened to me for so long that the feeling of happiness is foreign, but not unwelcome. When the sisters notice my internal turmoil they leave me alone but drag me back into the conversation when I have calmed a little.

For once life is good and when I leave I go with a full stomach, extra food in hand and with the knowledge that I will return tomorrow.