“We could call him..”“He says he’s a bit tired and hungover…”“We don’t have to do anything, just hang out…”“Yeah.. he’s texted... He’s on the way…”’It wasn’t much of a gamble. He was her friend, someone we liked and respected, and was good company. But we weren’t sure anything would happen. Or even if we’d want it to. After an enjoyable evening, and perhaps sensing a moment alone was needed, our friend went to the toilet. We looked at each other. We both knew what the other was thinking. She. My mother, who has taken care of me since I was a kid because my deadbeat father walked out on us, kicked me out of our home because I dropped out of high school when I was 16 and I didn't want to go back. Reality set in rather quickly once I was out on the streets. I had to figure out, on my own, how to take care of myself.I found a job as a cashier at a local 24-hour truck stop gift shop soon after I was forced out on the street. It was a minimum wage paying job but it was enough for me to. More

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