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1995 INSIGHT Writing Contest
Third place--student short story

What I did with my leftovers could make a difference.

A Half Plate of Pasta

by Tanya Marie Spilovoy

The cold wind sliced through my jacket and wrapped my rain-drenched skirt around my ankles. March weather in London is known for its surprises, but this was more like an ambush.

"If you don't like the weather, wait a minute." My boyfriend, Greg, laughed, pulling my shivering body close. "Let's take the subway to Leicester Square and get some Italian food at Centrale Restaurant."

My stomach growled in anticipation of good, cheap pasta. We ducked into the nearest Underground station and headed down the stairs. In a few minutes I'd be sitting in my favorite restaurant with a huge plate of steaming noodles and basil sauce before me.

Greg grabbed my hand as we neared the trains. I looked down to get a ticket out of my purse and almost tripped over a pair of boots.

An old man sat on the gray cement with his chin tucked into a filthy coat. He rocked back and forth humming to himself. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, and a few coins lay in a weathered hat beside him. His scrawled sign read: "HUNGRY, PLEASE HELP."

I winced, and my heart raced. My eyes darted away, trying to avoid the disturbing sight.

"Oh, Greg," I whispered as we walked on, "it's so cold tonight, and they close the station at 11:00. I wonder where he sleeps."

"He probably has a nice flat off Green Park," Greg teased, "and he just puts on an act to get people's money."

"He probably sleeps on the street," I replied.

"What good can we do, anyway?" Greg asked. He looked serious now. "We're students and have little money ourselves. Besides, giving him your money won't help anything. He'll just be out there tomorrow night along with the rest of them."

The train arrived and whisked us away from the man with the weathered hat

At Centrale the food didn't taste as delicious as usual.

"Something wrong?" Greg asked. "You're really quiet."

"I don't know," I sighed. "I can't get that homeless guy out of my head. I just wish I had tons of money so I could help everyone."

"But you can't. So why worry about it?"

We changed the subject and talked about school and traveling. I soon felt stuffed, with a half plate of pasta left.

The waitress came over to our table. "Do you want to take the rest of your meal with you?" she asked in a heavy Italian accent.

I hesitated. "Well, it's pretty hard to carry food on subways and trains."

"You could always set it on the sidewalk," she offered. "Someone will eat it. There's lots of hungry people out there."

"OK," I decided. "I'll take it with me."

When we stepped out the door, the wind felt even nastier than before. It bit my cheeks, and stung my eyes. "Let's go back to school!" I suggested.

Greg steered me through the crowded sidewalks to the subway entrance. When we reached Waterloo station, where the country trains begin, I remembered the pasta. "What am I going to do with this food?" I asked Greg. "Our train leaves in 15 minutes."

Then I saw her. Clutching a styrofoam cup of coffee. Wrinkled fingers poking out of mismatched gloves. Everything she owned sat piled on the cart in front of her.

I didn't waste a second. "Excuse me," I said, running over to her. "I can't take this with me, and thought you might like it."

She smiled and said "God bless you" in the same way my grandma always did. Then I realized that she was my grandma--and my aunt, my mother, my sister. She was God's very cold, hungry, lonely daughter with nowhere to sleep.

That night as I lay in a warm bed thinking of my home and family and the old lady at Waterloo, I realized that I don't have to be rich and help everyone. I can make a difference in one person's life--even with just a half plate of pasta.

Tanya Marie Spilovoy was a junior at Newbold College in England when she wrote this story.

Judges' comments:
"Good description. The lesson is natural."
"Believable, well-handled dialogue. Good sensory detail. Excellent development."
"Powerful verbs. Powerful theme. This is the essence of the love of God, the gospel."