Wren frowned. “But your work is with women and children who have been disenfranchised through circumstances not of their own making. It’s not the same thing, is it?”

“You can’t compartmentalize the problem so easily, Andrew. There aren’t any conditions of homelessness specifically attributable to particular groups that would allow us to apply different solutions. It doesn’t work like that. Everything is connected. Domestic violence, failed marriages, teen pregnancy, poverty, and lack of education are all a part of the mix. They all contribute, and ultimately you can’t solve one problem without solving them all. We fight small battles on different fronts, but the war is huge. It sprawls all over the place.”

He leaned back again. “We treat homelessness on a case-by-case basis, trying to help the disadvantaged get back on their feet, to reclaim their lives, to begin anew. But you have to wonder sometimes how much good we are really doing. We shore up people in need, and that’s good. But how much of what we do is actually solving the problem?”

Wren shrugged. “Maybe that’s best left to somebody else.”

Simon Lawrence chuckled. “Who? The government? The church? The general population? Do you see anyone out there addressing the specific causes of homelessness or domestic violence or failed marriages or teen pregnancy in any meaningful way? There are efforts being made to educate people, but the problem goes way beyond that. It has to do with the way we live, with our values and our ethics. And that’s exactly what Banfield wrote decades ago when he warned us that poverty is a condition that, to a large extent at least, we cannot alleviate.”

They stared at each other across the little table, the din of the room around them closing in on the momentary silence, filling up the space like water poured in a glass. Wren was struck suddenly by the similarity of their passion for their work. What they did was so different, yet the strength of their commitment and belief was much the same.

“I’m sounding pessimistic again,” the Wiz said, making a dismissive gesture. “You have to ignore me when I’m like this. You have to pretend that it’s someone else talking.”

Wren drained the last of his drink and sat back. “Tell me something about yourself, Simon,” he asked the other man suddenly.

Simon Lawrence seemed caught off guard. “What?”

“Tell me something about yourself. I came out here for a story, and the story is supposed to be about you. So tell me something about yourself that you haven’t told anyone else. Give me something interesting to write about.” He paused. “Tell me about your childhood.”

The Wiz shook his head immediately. “You know better than to ask me about that, Andrew. I never talk about myself except in the context of my work. My personal life isn’t relevant to anything.”

Wren laughed. “Of course it is. You can’t sit there and tell me how you grew up doesn’t have anything to do with how you came to be who you are. Everything connects in life, Simon. You just said so yourself. Homelessness is tied to domestic violence, teen pregnancy, and so forth. Same with the events of your life. They’re all tied together. You can’t pretend your childhood is separate from the rest of your life. So tell me something. Come on. You’ve disappointed me so far, but here’s a chance to redeem yourself.”