Chapter 12

At the Visbanken is the boarding place for the boats.

“Welcome, madam and sir,” the skipper greets them as they arrive. He is a big, rough-built man with a toque pulled down low over his ears. Antonio places the money for the canal cruise into the man’s large mitten.

“Thank you very much,” he says. “Have a safe journey.”

Liza has to smile a little. The skipper acts as if they’re about to set off on a journey around the world. One after the other, they walk up the short gangplank. Antonio jumps into the boat first and then helps Liza in. Carefully, they look for a place to sit in the wobbly open boat. There is room for about thirty people. Halfway down the boat, they find an empty bench and sit down.

“Look, here’s a blanket. Shall we put it over our legs?” Antonio asks.
Liza nods. It will probably be cold once they’re sitting still. Skillfully, Antonio drapes the blanket over their legs and, at the same time, scoots a little closer to Liza.

“Helps against the cold, too,” he laughs mischievously.

Liza feels herself blush. She’s glad it’s dark in the boat. High above them, cars drive along the canal, but the light from their headlights doesn’t reach deep enough to illuminate the boat. A warm, romantic feeling suddenly flows through her—the feeling that no one can see her here, and that she’s sitting next to someone she… yes, someone she really likes. It makes her intensely happy. Tears rise in her throat, and bravely she tries to smile without letting them roll down her cheeks. If only this could be real. If only Antonio were an ordinary man with a decent job and education. A wistful feeling takes hold of her, and a cold wind brushes past her head. Suddenly, she blurts out,
“I didn’t know homeless people could afford to go on canal cruises.”

“Oh, some of them collect so much in a day that they can easily afford a little trip,” he replies.
Liza looks at him from the side. “Did you have a good day today?”

Antonio laughs. “I have a good day every day, but today it’s extra good.”

He takes her hand in his large mittens, gives it a gentle squeeze, and smiles with his eyes close to hers. She feels herself melt completely under his gaze and, for a moment, forgets what she wanted to ask him.

Meanwhile, the boat has pushed off from the quay and is now moving. The skipper’s deep voice echoes over the water. Illuminated artworks hang along the canals, and at each one he explains who made it and what it represents. Liza lets his story wash over her. Her own thoughts occupy her mind. She’s searching for a question that Antonio must answer clearly, so she can finally know who he really is and where he comes from. But Antonio speaks first.

“Sometimes I think you’d like to know what I actually do all day, wouldn’t you?” he whispers in her ear when the skipper pauses for a moment.
Surprised, Liza turns toward him. “Yes, tell me,” she tries to say without sounding too eager; but his smile tells her she’s given herself away.

“I’m actually not a homeless man,” he begins.

Not homeless, Liza thinks, looking at him indignantly. Has he been fooling her all this time? She feels herself slowly growing angry. Hurt and upset, she stares at him.

“Well, actually, I am homeless,” he then says.
A big question mark appears on Liza’s face.

“Well then,” she says, pressing her lips together, “you’re making no sense.”

She looks around the boat. Everyone else seems to be enjoying the trip. What possessed her to go along with half a homeless man? She feels that this evening is turning into a complete flop, and that tonight she’ll lie awake in bed, deeply disappointed, unable to sleep because she’s worked herself up over this for weeks. Antonio is still holding her hand with both of his. She tries to pull away, but his grip tightens.

“Don’t be so angry,” he says gently. “It makes me sad. Don’t you want to hear the rest of the story?”

Liza looks at him again. The rest of the story? This is already bad enough.
“Well, go on then,” she says irritably.

“For my work, I’m homeless, and in my free time, I go on boat trips with sweet girls.”

Liza’s eyes widen. What on earth is he talking about?

“I’m studying social work,” he continues, “and this is a way for me to really understand what homeless people go through every day. That’s why I live on the street temporarily; it helps me connect more easily with other homeless people and encourage them to come to the drop-in centre, where they can find some warmth and companionship. What I love most is talking with them about the Lord Jesus, who was homeless himself. They understand that better when I experience life the way they do. If I approach them dressed neatly, they often say, ‘Get lost; what do you know about life on the streets?’ That’s why I choose to live this way, but with a safety net: when it gets too much, I can stay with friends who offer me a safe place to sleep.”

Liza says nothing. Tears fill her eyes.
“I’m sorry I got angry earlier,” she says softly. “I felt betrayed. I think it’s because I’d like to do something for people who are struggling, but I see so few possibilities. And,” she adds guiltily, “I’m quite attached to my comfortable little life. I don’t like giving it up.”

“We can’t all live on the streets or work full-time at the drop-in centre,” Antonio says gently. “But what we can do is be good to people around us who have less. Do you think I forgot your hot chocolate? It gave me just that bit of courage to keep going, while I saw all those wealthy people enjoying themselves without thinking of anyone else. And your hard-earned money at Gouda by Candle Light; I used it to buy food for another homeless man. And the place you gave me to sleep in the shed? It meant a lot to know that such a kind girl was so close by.”

Liza feels herself blush again, and before she knows what’s happening, he puts his arm around her and gently kisses her on the cheek. She looks at him shyly, then rests her head on his shoulder. Together they drift past the light-decorated ships in the Museum Harbour. She no longer hears the skipper’s story, and she doesn’t feel the cold. She’s simply enjoying the moment. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the question of what comes next flickers briefly—but it quickly fades away. All too soon, the boat trip comes to an end, and they’re back on shore at the Visbanken.

“Shall we go to the concert by The Singing Family in the Sint-Jan?” Antonio suggests.
Liza nods, and hand in hand they walk back to the church. Inside, it’s pleasantly warm, and they find a spot in the tall wooden pews. The large chandeliers are dimmed. Only the stage and the organ are lit.

“Do you remember that night when you played the violin on the stage?”
Liza bursts out laughing.

“You shouldn’t do that again,” Antonio says teasingly. “If it had been another homeless man, he might be sitting next to you now.” He looks at her expectantly.

“No,” she says slowly, smiling. “I only go along with homeless men who have good intentions and beautiful eyes.”

Antonio’s eyes light up, and for a moment, they forget about everyone else around them. Then the organ begins to play, followed shortly by the piano. Liza drifts away on the sound of the music. A singer in a stunning black evening gown, with golden-blonde hair and sparkling jewellery, begins to sing passionately. Liza recognizes the song by Chris Rice. Gently, she sways to the melody. Deep inside, the lyrics touch her once more, and again she feels tears welling up. Wistfully, she wonders how she can give her life a meaningful purpose. Then her heart joins in with the chorus:

Carry your candle, run to the darkness

Seek out the helpless, confused, and torn

And hold out your candle for all to see it

Take your candle, and go light your world

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“This is what I mean,” Antonio whispers close to her ear. “Everyone has their own candle. Some with a big flame, others with a small one. Together, they make a great fire. You don’t put just one candle in a Christmas tree; you put many in. Only then is it truly beautiful. Only then can it really give light.”

Liza nods. Slowly, the meaning sinks in.

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The End