The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante

Chapter Thirty-Eight

KYRA

We bundle inside a small civic hall. Loud indignant chatter fills the already heated atmosphere. The meeting is loud and noisy.

I’m sitting at the front with the a few elected committee members and the chairperson, a scrawny older woman with angular bones and reading glasses that keep slipping down her oily nose. I wasn’t eager about doing this role, because I am already busy enough, but I was hounded into it, partly by Simona and then seconded by Fredrich, since so many of the business owners kept asking me to speak up for them on their behalf.

But since my passion is Redhill, and I became aware early on that there were attempts to get us to relocate, I agreed to be a voice for this group. It’s still something I’m passionate about.

The chairwoman brings up the most recent complaint from the city about the food nights turning Greenways into a place which encourages homeless people. “They seem to be going for you,” she says, passing me a letter. “I expect you’ll be getting one soon.”

I scan it quickly. The city officials are claiming that we—as in Redhill—are encouraging homeless people to sleep in nearby streets due to our weekly food nights. The chairwoman reads out from a copy in her hands for the benefit of everyone else. “While the work that Redhill does is commendable, the food night program is making it a haven for homeless people. The buildings are attracting crime and drug addicts, and this does not bode well for the reputation of the area.”

I slam the letter down in shock. This isn’t a new complaint. Every so often we get letters like this. Maybe we did receive this. I need to check because I seem to be getting more careless with things that need my attention.

“I disagree,” I say and a chorus of agreement erupts. Some of the people might linger around while they eat, but everyone leaves by the end of the evening. When we head back to the factory having returned the food and supplies to the restaurants, I have never seen anyone loitering around.

“Sounds to me like they’re getting desperate and need us gone from here,” someone shouts out.

“The city people don’t want us here. They’re always trying to get us to move.” This was way in the back row.

Agitation spreads like wildfire around the hall. We’re accustomed to these requests and we’ve managed to thwart them successfully up until now. A middle-aged man in the middle row stands up. “I’ve been here since I was a kid, ever since my mom and dad started their business. I ain’t going nowhere.”

The commotion amplifies as people become indignant and bitter at the idea that there are underhanded reasons behind this complaint.

“They can’t physically remove us,” the woman in the front row shouts. I give her a smile which is anything but convincing. I’m sure they can. I wouldn’t put anything past these government officials, and I have a sneaky suspicion about this most recent complaint. I try to reassure the crowd. “Why don’t we keep our heads down and just carry on as we’re doing?” I suggest. “I don’t see any of the problems they’re complaining about. Y’all know about our weekly food nights, and you also know that there is not a scrap of litter to be found in that space the next day.” I survey them all, looking at me with hope, as if I am their fearless leader.

They cry out in agreement. “As long as you’re speaking for us, Kyra. As long as you’ve got our back.”

I muster a smile, even though there is nothing to feel happy about.

“Moving swiftly along. What’s next on the agenda?”

I groan inwardly. The rest of the evening will be painstakingly dull. There are so many work-related things I could be doing. Between this and the weekly food nights, the time I have to spend on my business is significantly reduced.

And, after spending time with Brad, I have come to see that there are other things to do. Pleasures to be had.

I don’t have the hour to spend here.

I chose to be on the committee because I don’t want to be pushed around, and because very few people speak up for what they believe in. But my stance has recently changed. I am torn about what to do. A part of me wants to relocate. Another proud and stubborn part of me wants to stay. I have to fix the roof, and then there are a few other parts of the factory that could do with fixing up. And I’m still waiting on one of the factory owners on either side of me to sell and leave so that I can expand out.

It seems like an awful lot of wishful thinking and maybes. Brad is right. I should cut my losses and go.

As we walk out, it’s just me and Fredrich because Simona left earlier, slipping out from the first few rows where she and Fredrich were sitting. I’m grateful that he stayed, but now I am eager to get home.

“What was all that about? You and Brad, as we were getting ready to leave?”

I stare straight ahead because I can’t bring myself to look Fredrich in the eye. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me.”

We’re in such a small office and even though I’ve tried to focus on my work, Simona and Fredrich have obviously noticed how cold Brad and I have been, especially because we’ve been getting on so well lately. We’ve shared an easy familiarity and now that it has turned stone cold, it’s no wonder that my colleagues have noticed.

He left me when we were about to have sex. He turned me down. It wasn’t quite like that. I get it, but still, it’s an embarrassment I can’t erase from memory. The idea that we have seen each other naked, that he has probed my most private of places, that we came so close to having sex.

“Has he done something?” Fredrich asks.

My head spins so fast as I turn to look at him. “What? No.” My rebuke is too loud. The denial a little too forced.

“I thought the two of you were getting on really well, especially after how you were with him in the start.”

“I don’t trust him,” I mumble. Even now, days later, the imprint of his lips is all over my body. I can’t wash it off. I lie in bed thinking of his mouth on mine and his fingers ...

“What? That doesn’t make sense. He’s been such a great help.”

“He’s hiding something, but I don’t know what.” I’m determined to push those images away.

He stops in the middle of the street, holding my arm, so that I too, have to stop. “Kyra, that’s insane. Why do you think he’s hiding something?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you two had a lover’s tiff?”

He’s hit so close to the truth, that the bullseye hits my heart. “Don’t be so silly. I’ve tolerated that man because he’s free to hire. I can’t stand him at the best of times.” I storm off in a huff, hoping that Fredrich believes me.