Straightening Ali (32 page)

Ali sat down and waited impatiently, feeling apprehensive about meeting Sheila. What if she couldn’t help him after all? Ali looked up each time he thought he heard someone enter the room.

“
You came back, then,” he heard a woman’s voice say, and looked up to see Sheila.

Ali nodded a shy yes, feeling stuck for words

“
Would you like a mug of tea?” she asked him pleasantly, trying to put him at ease.

“
Yes please,” Ali said gratefully.

“
Sugar? Milk?” she asked.

“
Milk, no sugar please,” Ali replied.

Sheila disappeared behind a small screen at the back of the office and reappeared soon after with two steaming mugs of tea. “We’ll go into one of the interview rooms,” she said walking past him to another door.

Ali got up, followed her into the small room and closed the door behind. It was a stuffy little room with two tatty office chairs in it and nothing else. “Sit down,” Sheila said gently. Once Ali was seated, she handed him the mug she was holding.

“
Thank you,” Ali said, and sipped the tea before putting it down on the floor to the side of the chair.

“
What’s your name?” asked Sheila.

“
Ali Mirza,” Ali said.

“
So how can Opendoor help you?” she asked.

“
I’m homeless,” Ali said. “I don’t have anywhere to live. I was hoping that you might be able to help me find somewhere to live. I don’t have much money to find somewhere myself.”

“
So where have you been sleeping?” asked Sheila.

“
In my car,” Ali replied, his voice sounding mournful. “I spend the day walking and keeping myself warm. At night, I go to my car to sleep.”

“
That must be terrible for you. What happened to make you homeless?” asked Sheila giving him a reassuring smile in encouragement, knowing that he was finding it hard to talk.

“
I had a disagreement with my family. It meant I had to leave home,” Ali said.

“
What was the disagreement about?” Sheila asked.

“
I can’t talk about it,” Ali said cautiously, finding it painful to talk and open up his memories of the last few days.

“
I’m sorry, Ali, but I’ll need to know more about your situation in order to help you,” said Sheila. When there was no reply forthcoming from Ali. “I’m sorry I can’t help you unless I know the facts,” she continued. “It’s painful talking about things that have hurt us, but you’ve already done the hardest thing by coming here. Was it drugs?”

“
No it wasn’t drugs,” Ali replied.

“
In your own time, Ali,” Sheila murmured gently.

“
I was forced into an arranged marriage,” said Ali unhappily. “I ran away after the wedding night because ... well because I’m gay.”

“
Did your parents know you were gay?” asked Sheila without signs of surprise at Ali’s words. She had heard this tale before from many young Asian men who came to the office.

“
Yes. I told them in my last semester at University. They wouldn’t accept it and put it down to stress from my studies. When I finished my degree, they badgered me to move back home, and I did,” Ali told her.

“
Well, you’re very brave for leaving. Not many people would have had the strength to leave,” Sheila said with empathy.

“
It was very hard,” Ali said, trying to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to burst from his eyes. “I can’t go back to Birmingham as my family is still looking for me. I’ve got to start a new life here in Leicester, but I can’t do that without somewhere to live.”

“
We’ll be able to help you find a place to stay,” Sheila assured him. “If you don’t find somewhere straight away, we can refer you to Nightshelter. It’s an overnight hostel for homeless people. They’ll allow you to stay there from nine in the evening to eleven in the morning. They’ve got washing facilities there, so you’ll be able to freshen up.”

“
It would be nice having a bed to sleep in and a shower. I’m not sure if I could cope sleeping another night in my car,” Ali said.

“
How old are you?” Sheila asked him suddenly.

“
Twenty-four,” Ali told her.

“
That’s a shame. If you’d been seventeen, we could have got Social Services to find you somewhere to stay. Let’s go back to the main office, so you can start making some phone calls,” Sheila said getting up.

She opened the door and led Ali back into the main office. “Here’s a list of all the long stay hostels in Leicester,” she said picking up a booklet from her desk and handing it to Ali. “Take a seat and start phoning them.”

Ali sat down on the chair that Sheila pointed to. He picked up the telephone handset and opened the first page of the booklet. “What shall I say?” he asked turning to Sheila, unsure of the approach to take.

“
Say that you are being supported by Opendoor. Tell them that you’re homeless and ask if they have any vacancies,” Sheila suggested.

“
Okay,” Ali said gratefully.

“
Telephone HITS Homes Trust first,” said Sheila encouragingly. “I think they’ve got some vacancies coming up.”

“
Okay,” Ali said.

“
Well, go on then,” said Sheila smiling, bemused by Ali’s lack of confidence.

Ali turned the pages in the booklet, found the number for HITS Homes Trust, and dialed it. The phone was answered immediately. “Is this HITS Trust?” Ali asked.

“
Yes, how can I help you?” asked a female voice.

“
I’m at Opendoor. They’ve advised me to give you a call. I’m currently homeless and wondering if you have any vacancies,” Ali said hesitantly.

“
We’re actually interviewing for two vacancies today. Did you want to be considered?” the female voice asked.

“
Yes, please,” Ali cried eagerly unable to believe his luck.

“
We’ll need a referral from Opendoor before we can interview you,” the woman said.

“
Oh my God!” Ali screamed in excitement to Sheila. “They have vacancies, and they’re interviewing today. They need a referral from you. Would you refer me?”

“
Yes, of course,” said Sheila.

“
They’ll refer me,” said Ali turning back to speak to the woman on the phone.

“
Excellent, can you get here for three o’clock?” she asked him.

“
Yes, I think so. Where are you?”

“
We’re on Evington Road,” she said giving him a house number. “What’s your name?”

“
Ali Mirza,” Ali said.

“
Okay, we’ll need a referral faxed to us straight away,” the woman said urgently. “If we don’t have a copy of that referral when you get here, we won’t be able to consider you. They should have our fax number.”

“
I’ll let Sheila know,” Ali said happily.

“
I’ll expect to see you at three. Try not to be late,” the woman said sternly before putting the phone down and ending the call.

“
They’re interviewing me at three. Do you think you’ll be able to fax a referral to them before then? They won’t interview me without one,” Ali said.

“
I’ve partially filled a referral form out while you were on the phone,” Sheila said waving the form at him. “You just need to fill in your personal details.” She handed him the form and a pen to complete the missing information.

“
This is only an interview, so don’t build your hopes up too much,” Sheila cautioned when Ali handed the completed form back to her.

“
I know, but it feels like I am finally doing something constructive,” Ali said excitedly. “I’ve got to get to Evington Road for three. Do you know how I can get there?”

“
It’s too far to walk, and you don’t really have that long to get there. If I were you, I’d get a bus from the Haymarket,” she advised him.

Ali gave her a confused look. “Is that in the center?” he asked.

“
It’s not far. When you come out of this building, walk back to Granby Street and then onto Gallowtree Gate. You’ll eventually come to a junction where you’ll see the Haymarket shopping center on your right. Walk through it, and the bus terminal is on the other side,” Sheila instructed. “Get the number twenty-two, and it’ll take you to Evington Road. It shouldn’t be more than a ten minute ride.”

“
I think I should be able to find it,” Ali said positively.

“
Good luck,” said Sheila getting up. She came over to him and gave him an unexpected hug fondly. “If they don’t take you on, we’ll find something for you, so don’t worry. Just be honest with them.”

“
Thank you so much Sheila,” said Ali shyly removing himself from her embrace.

Ali followed Sheila’s directions, found the bus terminal and jumped on the bus as soon as it arrived. He looked out of the window worriedly, trying to spot the street sign for Evington Road as the bus drove slowly out of the town center, stopping to pick up new passengers along the route.

Feeling increasingly worried that he may miss his stop, Ali got up and asked the driver to let him know when the bus arrived at his destination. He then sat back down impatiently looking out of the window.

“
It’s your stop coming up now, me duck,” the bus driver suddenly called out in a Leicestershire accent just as the bus came to a halt outside a busy row of shops.

Ali got up hurriedly and thanked the driver as he stepped off. He walked along the road checking the number of each building that he passed. He finally reached an old three-storey Victorian building with a large metal sign by the side of the door for HITS Homes Trust.

Ali rang the bell and waited.

“
Who is it, please?” a woman’s voice asked from the intercom.

“
Ali Mirza, I have an interview for three o’clock,” Ali replied.

“
Come in. You’re already five minutes late,” the voice said sharply. “We’re in the main office. Take the door to your left as you come in.”

“
Thank you,” Ali said politely and walked into the building when the door clicked open. There was a large brightly painted blue door to his left with glass in it. Ali could make out some figures behind it. Taking a deep breath, Ali knocked on the door and stepped inside without waiting for a reply.

“
Hello, Ali, I’m Naureen,” a short Pakistani woman said getting up from behind a large office desk and shook Ali’s hand “I’m the Manager for HITS Homes Trust. These are the two support workers who work on the scheme, Trevor and Sarah,” she said introducing him to the two people seated on the chairs next to her desk.

“
Nice to meet you,” Ali said nervously.

“
Sit down,” Naureen said, pointing to an empty chair in front of her desk before returning to her own chair.

Ali sat down on the chair facing the panel of three. His confidence had completely evaporated since stepping into the room, and he felt worse realizing that this was going to be a proper interview. Naureen’s expression seemed quite warm, but the two support workers looked very serious. They both held small notepads resting on their laps ready to start making notes. It felt like the start of a job interview.

“
I’ll give you a brief introduction about the work that we do here at HITS Homes Trust, and then we’ll ask you a few questions. We will be making some notes to help us remember what you’ve said,” Naureen informed him.

“
Okay,” Ali said his voice wavering.

“
HITS Homes Trust was set up to support young vulnerable people between the ages of eighteen and twenty five,” she said as if reading from a memorized script. “We offer furnished accommodation and day-to-day support for all our residents. The staff are trained counselors and will provide emotional support and a counseling service. We work closely with local colleges and employers to help find work or places on training courses for our residents. Would any of what we do be of any use to you?”

“
Yes. All of it,” Ali said.

“
We manage two supported housing schemes including this one. The other one is based on Maidstone Road. They are all one bed flats and come fully furnished,” Naureen continued.

“
Can you tell us a little about yourself?” Trevor asked after Naureen’s dialogue.

“
I already mentioned in my telephone call that I’m homeless. My family forced me into an arranged marriage, but I ran away the day after getting married,” Ali said with downcast eyes, not wanting to see their reaction to his words. He felt especially apprehensive about Naureen’s reaction knowing she was Pakistani and Muslim, so he didn’t mention his sexuality. What if she responded in the same way as his family?