New Start
Ray Timmins
Charlie and I played video games for a while. It was a good way to pass the time during this miserable period of my life. After a while I went out on his porch to smoke a cigarette. He stayed inside. I couldn't concentrate on the video game anymore, my mind was racing. Everything and nothing pulsing, screaming in my head. Charlie was pretty laid back in general, he wouldn't understand. He might even laugh and then I'd get serious, maybe yell or freak out in some way. He didn't deserve that. I had this etching tile he gave me and the tools were out there. I began carving into it, not sure where it was going. I pricked my finger with the tool and it began to bleed. The lines I was etching seemed random, just messy. And the blood poured. I watched it. I felt a little better. Bleed the freak indeed. I wiped my cigarette on my finger and painted it with my blood. I smoked it. I breathed it in so deeply, puff after puff, and I felt calmer. I etched more lines. Smoked more of my blood. And more lines. I grabbed a bottle of ink and covered the tile. I pressed it on a piece of paper a few times. I couldn't make it out and put it aside, but at least the chaos in my mind was dead for the time being.
I knew I wouldn't be able to crash there that night. That his wife wouldn't allow it. And of course I couldn't go back to where I had been staying. I wasn't any longer sure what the argument with Deanna had been about. She was pregnant, she didn't need the stress. But still, it's as if she had just turned on me. Though I had yelled. Loudly. And I had never done that to her. I never really yelled at anyone, let alone a friend. But the day before, at that cute store clerk. I'd had a silent crush on her for the longest and then I let go on her. Not sure why. I mean the change was wrong, but only a few cents off. She seemed distracted by her phone. Texting. People are always fucking texting. Can't even get decent service at a convenience store. One pack of cigarettes. The same ones she always rang me up for. But still. The accusations, whatever they were—just crazy shit as far as I can remember—and the yelling. I remember the sound of my quaking voice. From then and with Deanna. Some deep fear was wrecking my brain.
And then I had no place to stay. Even a day later the memories were fuzzy, and much the vaguer now, a few years later as I write this.
Deanna's roommate let me keep my stuff in his room. We were old friends, I could get it all back once I got settled. But where? Was I crazy like my friends had been saying? Like my family had suggested? Did I need psychiatric attention? Fuck no, they were all fucked and dead and dull for some reason. There was something going on with me that's for certain. I was becoming me. The whole me. Slowly and albeit with some strange skips here and there. But I heard the music, I was confident in me. And soon everyone else would be too.
Sleep though. If I could just find a way to get some real sleep. Deep sleep. It'll come, damnit, I know it will. I'd barely gotten four hours a night, and some nights none at all, for nearly a month.
Charlie was still in there playing video games. He bought me lunch, he let me chill out there, we played video games and drank beer. I still had half of one left. I took a sip, thinking about my next move. Ralph. Didn't want to, shit was hard enough for him as it was, but I needed a place to stay that night. Get my head together. Get up North and stay with Uncle Bill. If that's even still in the cards. Needed to call him and see what was going on. Until then I had my backpack, laptop and a few bucks from Dad. Where had all my money gone? My job? The girls I loved, the friends? My life? All small portions then, that's all anyone could stand of me. And I really had no idea why.
Back inside:
“Want to pick up this game?” Charlie asked.
“No man,” I said, draining my beer. “Can I use your phone?”
“Yeah, here.”
I dialed Ralph's number.
“Hello?”
“Ralph?”
“Hey. What's up?”
“A lot. You gonna be home a little later?”
“I ain't got shit to do outside this house, you know that. Playing WoW all night. Same old shit.”
“I may stop by.”
“What's going on?”
“All kinds of shit. May crash there if it's alright.”
“I probably won't sleep tonight, but yeah whatever.”
“Cool. Later.”
“Yeah.”
My sister had bought me a bus pass and a phone card. Wouldn't let me stay more than the night, but I got the pass and phone card at least. She seemed worried. Or angry. I couldn't tell. Both her and Dad. Turned on me, just turned their backs. I was fucking homeless, didn't they care? Dad dropped me off at a psych hospital. Once there, the admissions lady asked if I wanted to hurt myself or anyone else. Such stupid shit, of course I didn't. I never had. So they wouldn't take me in. Good. I had no place to go but I didn't want to stay there. They recommended a homeless shelter. I told them thank you. They even fed me breakfast in the morning after having stayed in the lobby all night. And a number for the homeless shelter.
These were all my choices, Charlie had pointed out earlier during lunch. And he was right, of course. I knew this. I had chosen to get off my medication. And it was withdrawals I was experiencing it seemed to me at the time. Though my family seemed to think it was an episode I was having and I needed to get back on meds. All this shit. I never should have gotten on those fucking pills to begin with! But what to do till the smoke cleared and I could show everyone that I was just fine?
Ralph? Fuck, but yeah, I decided to plead my case to him. Could never tell with him. Dude was fucking nuts. Real crazy. Stayed up for days on end playing Warcraft. Christ and he kept trying to get me to play. Maybe I was a little crazy, but I wasn't fucking insane! Too much to do, to see, to experience. He was going dumb and blind with that damn game and it had just spiraled out of control since he had lost his job. Hell, his life began seeping into the ground even before he had lost his job, which is why he lost it. Anger issues. It didn't occur to me at the time that I had been in a similar boat lately.
At least Ralph owned his house. But I knew his bills had been piling up. He'd told me all about it whenever we talked. I felt for him, but I had shit of my own to deal with. The whole thing had been dependent on Uncle Bill. He told me I could have the spare room and that I could even work with him as his assistant plumber. And he just kept putting it off.
“Fuck, Uncle Bill, pull through for me soon. I can't live like this anymore!”
Dad had always told me Uncle Bill was no good, that he was unreliable. I thought it was just sibling rivalry bullshit. But I knew Uncle Bill would get me up there. Just needed to keep my head above water until then.
I sat down next to Charlie. He paused the game and I handed him his phone back.
“Know what you're doing tonight?” he asked.
“We'll see. Can't stay here I suppose?” I felt so humiliated asking, so desperate.
“No, Katie won't want that. She doesn't want any visitors.”
“Or she just hates me.”
“No man, it's not that. She just likes her privacy. Don't take it that way, Dell.”
“Alright. A friend I used to work with, Ralph, said I could crash there. But he's fucking nuts. Hopefully Uncle Bill will pull through.”
“Want a ride to Ralph's?”
“No man, but a ride to the library. Gonna get online for a while. Pass the time and try and call Uncle Bill.”
“Want to call him now?”
“No, I tried a little while ago. I have a calling card, I can call him from a pay phone.”
“If you can find one, haha.”
“Yeah, pay phones are rare these days. And they're always broken.”
“Still, it was nice of your sister to get you that calling card.”
“Would be nicer if she let me stay there.”
“Yeah, maybe. I don't understand why your family won't take you in.”
“They think I'm nuts. Say I don't want to help myself by checking into a hospital.”
“But the hospital wouldn't even take you in?”
“No. Because there's nothing fucking wrong with me. I mean, my life has been in shambles lately, but I just need to catch a break ya know?”
“Yeah,” he said, turning his head away.
“Uncle Bill will come through soon. He's just busy dealing with his wife. She had a heart attack and is in the hospital.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Katie's going to be home from work soon. I can take you to the library if you want.”
“Thanks.”
Charlie dropped me off in front of the library. He stuck out his hand. “Take care, man. Call and let me know when you're settled with Uncle Bill.”
“Should be soon. Thanks for everything, Charlie.”
We shook hands, I grabbed my backpack and got out of the car. Into the library, I sat on a comfy chair and pulled my laptop out. I connected and checked my email. I opened up my chat program and saw that Frank was online, an old childhood friend who moved to Minnesota after high school. Hadn't spoken in a while so I decided to say hi.
We chatted a while. Caught up. He had just broken up with his girlfriend. They had been dating for three years. He told me the whole story and it was just nuts. She had faked a pregnancy to keep him at one point. Then at another time she did get pregnant and aborted it before even telling him about it. She hadn't wanted him to get mad, she'd said. He was still quite upset over the whole thing and had sworn her off just a couple months ago. But still she persisted in keeping him roped into her drama.
“Going on a date tonight. No attachments for a while. If ever,” he said.
“Can't blame you there.”
I told him my sad story, just the highlights and he said that if I could find a way up there I could stay in a spare room of his. If the thing with Uncle Bill didn't work out, I told him. I thanked him and kept it in mind. Which reminded me that I needed to call Uncle Bill.
There were two payphones in the lobby of the library. I took the escalator down and saw that someone was on one. I tried the other but it had no ringtone. Fucking payphones! At least I knew the other one worked. I walked outside and pulled out a cigarette. I sat on the grass. The lawn was filled with people. Mostly homeless people it seemed. I wasn't the only one. But I was different. This was temporary. A little hiccup in my life was all.
It was hot, but there was a nice breeze and I was in the shade of a tree. There was a persistently tweeting bird up in it. I looked up at the bird, stared for a moment and it flew away, giving chase to another another bird on a telephone line, which launched away in the opposite direction, fleeing.
“Got a light, brother?” I heard someone say.
I looked up and there was a man, presumably homeless, standing in front of me with a cigarette in his mouth. I handed him my lighter.
“Mind if I pop a squat?”
“Sure.”
“You on the streets, man?”
I looked down at my dirty shirt and ripped shorts and figured along with the backpack and my dreary countenance that it must have been a dead giveaway.
“Yeah. Just temporary though. Waiting for my uncle. He's letting me stay with him up North.”
“Up North? Where?”
I didn't like this guy's questions. “Maryland,” I said.
“Oh yeah, what city?”
“I forget the name,” I lied. I wasn't sure where he was gong with these questions or if I was just paranoid, but I didn't want him knowing anything about me.
“I gotta use the phone. Later, man.”
“Yep.”
I started walking toward the library, he shouted to me, “If you need a hot meal, go to West 9th and 12th Street around 6:00 tonight.”
“Thanks,” I said and hurried to the payphone.
I dialed in my phone card number, typed in the confirmation number and then called Uncle Bill.
“Hello?”
“Uncle Bill! Been trying to reach you. How are you doing?”
“Ah! Dealing with this bitch!”
“Huh?”
“Gloria. She didn't have a heart attack. Just a panic attack. The doctor gave her a prescription and sent her home. She's been doing nothing but laying into me, Dell. Not a good time to come up here. I need to deal with this fucking drama queen. Keeps accusing me of cheating, and wanting to kill her. Hell, she may even be right on that last one. Not worth it of course. Damn, this fucking bitch!”
“Sorry to hear that. Listen Uncle Bill. I won't be much of a bother if you could just give me a room, I can keep out of your hair. I'm kind of desperate.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I'm on the streets. Dad won't let me stay with him. Says he's still getting over losing Mom and that he has no room for me. That the condo association wouldn't like it.”
“What an asshole. He's your father for Christ's sake. I'll talk to him. What happened to your place? You were staying with those friends of yours.”
“Long story Uncle Bill.”
“Well? I'm not sure what you want me to do. I said I might have a room for you, but like I said, now's just not a good time.”
“But Uncle Bill!,” I began to sob.
“Sorry, Dell. I just can't do it now. I never promised you anything right now. Just that maybe in the future . . .”
“But you said this month would be good! I depended on you, Uncle Bill!”
“No. Don't do that shit! I'm sorry you have no place to stay now but that has nothing to do with anything we talked about. I might be able to get you up here soon, just give me some time. Call around. You have friends, don't you? And I'll talk to your father. What an asshole! You gotta take care of yourself, don't ever depend on anyone, Dell. Are you alright? Still on your meds? I can pay for them if you need me to.”
“I need a home! Dad was right about you!” I screamed into the phone, slamming it down.
I walked out of the library and sat down underneath the tree I had been sitting under before. I looked off into the sky, at the birds, the buildings, the clouds. I stared at the sun. Into the sun, a game I played as a child because I had been told that I shouldn't. Life was like that lately: like staring into the sun. The rays fell away and I could see the fiery ball. I looked away and closed my eyes until the black spots went away. I opened them and I was still there, on the library lawn with all the other pitiful homeless souls. A loser at life. What the fuck was I going to do? I remembered Frank's invitation. But how the hell would I get up there? Walk? And maybe Uncle Bill would come through. Wasn't holding my breath anymore as far as that went though.
It was a long way to Ralph's and it would be getting dark soon. I could take a bus part of the way. I made my way to the bus stop at the corner. There was no one else waiting there, which was good. I didn't want human contact. Not even proximity. Fuck the world. No one cared, why should I? I wondered what kind of mood Ralph would be in when I got there. I put it out of my head and soon I could see the bus coming down the road.
For some reason I thought about Mom while I was on the bus. Our family just hadn't been the same since she died. I definitely wasn't. That came up a few days ago with my sister. She was saying that Mom wouldn't want to see me this way. That I needed to get on my meds and get my shit together. And the last thing I said to my sister and Dad when they told me I couldn't stay at their places was that Mom would never turn me away like they had. Maybe that hurt, and I hoped it had. They both reiterated my need for medication and left me standing outside the library with my backpack. I got lost in books for a while, browsing only, reading paragraphs out of this book and that, perusing in a variety of sections. I crashed on an old friend's couch that night but had to leave the next day. Bert. Said he wasn't sure what he could do to help. I said let me stay another night. He said he couldn't, that he was hanging out with his girl that night. I said “fuck you!” and left.
Walking from where the bus had dropped me off to Ralph's I watched the sun setting. Finally, an end to the hot Florida day. Though it was October, the heat was still up into the upper eighties and it was just miserable being outdoors. I perked up a little as the daylight receded and picked up my pace to Ralph's.
When I got there, Ralph was sitting on his front porch with his neighbor, Jose. I could smell the joint they were passing when I stepped through the gate.
“Hey,” Ralph greeted me and I smiled for a change. He passed me the joint and I hit it, passing it to Jose, who smiled and said hello to me. I had only met Jose once before, but he had seemed alright.
“So, what's the hell's going on with you lately?” Ralph asked.
“Too much,” I said hitting the joint again, “but I'm in between places right now.”
“Well, you can spend tonight here, but I can't put you up for long. Where have you been staying, you look dirty.”
“Here and there. Heading up North with my Uncle Bill soon,” I said, though my heart sank upon saying this.
Maybe the atmosphere and the time of day set my mood somewhere near normal for the time being. Neither of them were giving me the odd looks most others had been. I wasn't blathering on like I had with my family and a few others.
“You can take a shower if you want. Have any clothes? Where's all your shit?”
“Still at the old place. Gary's taking care of it. Can't go back though. Deanna's pissed at me.”
“What's the matter, you wouldn't put out, huh?”
“Not exactly, but weirdly I do wonder about that sometimes. She did have a crush on me that I never could requite.”
“Haha, hit this.”
I did and as soon as the joint was done Jose was rolling another.
“Not playing Warcraft I see.”
“Need a break.”
Jose lit the next joint and Ralph ran inside and grabbed some beers. I hadn't been expecting this to turn into such a joyous occasion, but it was a nice change for certain. I felt good. The sun had just set, Ralph turned on the radio. Mostly Jose and Ralph talked at first, but after the joint and a couple more beers I opened up as well.
Jose left eventually and Ralph started playing Warcraft. I tried conversing but he was way into the game and hardly listening. I was babbling anyway, so it equated I figured. I excused myself and went and sat in his backyard under this huge Banyan tree.
I had not opened Facebook for a while. Life was too depressing and it had just become utterly meaningless to me. I decided to take a peek though. I pulled out my laptop, picked up Ralph's wi-fi signal and logged in. Nothing very interesting. Bland status updates, bad music posted. Farmville shit. But I saw one thing that caught my attention.
My first girlfriend from high school, Julia, posted that she had just moved back into town. Excited, and also a bit stoned, I wrote her a message and asked what had brought her back and that maybe we could see each other. Not sure what I was thinking, I was in dire straits and had no hopes of impressing her with my present state of affairs. Something in me disregarded all reason though. I had a place to stay tonight. I could shower and change into clean clothes. Maybe I was just wanting an escape. Have lunch with her, catch up and forget about my misery for a little while. We had remained close for a few years after we had broken up. In the back of my head I may have been thinking she would help me out in some way. She was married and had a child, though she was separated.
I kept Facebook open for a while waiting to see if she would respond right away, though her status update was a couple of hours old.
I heard nothing from her that night. I stared at the stars from underneath the Banyan tree most of the evening, then crashed dead asleep on the couch as the sun began rising. My energy completely spent. I could still see the light on in Ralph's computer room, and the clicking of his squeaky mouse button as I drifted off to sleep.
Staying with Ralph proved to be trying. He accused me of stealing food and poisoning his cat. I remember having a rambling conversation with him where I was talking on and on about a plausible future where our consciousness could be saved onto a hard drive and we could live forever in an eternal digital world. My enthusiasm for the subject was matched with his vengeance. He screamed “Bullshit!” over and over again, as if I were guilty of spreading some awful doomsday scenario lies. He muttered a few things about God and how he wouldn't make it possible, or that we'd be soiling his creation by bypassing his laws or something. He screamed at me to get out out of his house and chased me onto the front porch where I sat for about twenty minutes until he came out apologizing, offering me food and pot. As broke as he was he always managed to have some pot lying around.
I wasn't sure how much more I could take, or how much more he could take of me being there. All my shit was kept packed away, except my laptop. I kept to myself for a few days but we still got into it a few times and he chased me onto the front porch again. Eventually he said that I couldn't shower because I took too long and that he had to pay for water and I was wasteful. And then the food stopped. Except for bread and an old jar of peanut butter he didn't like. Which satisfied me just fine.
Ralph began berating me, calling me a bum and a loser and that I would have to find some other place to stay, that he couldn't afford to keep me and that he wouldn't take care of my pathetic ass anyway even if he did have the money. It was time to go indeed. I had long worn out my welcome. Longer than I had anticipated however. I would have to think of a new plan. Every plan I had come up with fizzled eventually. I wasn't in the position for any kind of long term planning. It was just short term survival at this point. And it was awfully depressing, though I really had no other way out that I could see. I wasn't checking myself into a hospital, that just wasn't in the cards.
I had planned on going up North, with Uncle Bill, and if that wasn't going to work then I had to find a way to Frank's. I couldn't stay in Florida anymore. The place was fucking haunted. I'd never be able to see past these horrible weeks of drifting. I'd never be able to smile again living here.
I had heard back from Julia and she said we could get together Saturday. By that time it was just too much and I pleaded with my Dad. He said I could spend a night there, eat and shower, but that I had to leave the next day. No questions asked.
Friday night I took the bus to the library, spent a few hours there reading and made my way to Dad's as nighttime approached.
My funds had gotten low and I bought the last pack of smokes I could afford. Little cigars, which were stronger and cost a lot less than regular cigarettes. They did the trick. I lit one up as I walked down Maple Street, toward Dad's.
The street seemed so different now. I used to drive down it when visiting my parents. When things were different. My life, everything. Mom had been alive and my situation was not so desperate. I'd visit for dinner on a Friday night or just go by to visit on the weekend and it was always a good time. Never exciting, but always comforting and happy. They'd ask how things were and we'd talk, watch TV or eat. I never could have imagined the present state of things in my wildest imagination. This wasn't my life, this was someone else's. I looked down at my feet, taking each step along the sidewalk, and knew that this was my life and that it was completely fucked up. And I had no one but myself to blame. And no one could even help. I started to tear up, but caught myself, smiled and walked on.
Dad asked me how things were. I told him about staying at Ralph's and other places I had been. He hadn't heard from Uncle Bill. My sister was upset with me still and so was Dad. He preached endlessly about my need to get help. I tried talking about Mom, sympathetic things, emotions about her loss, but he resented me bringing it up, told me to stop trying to change the subject. I couldn't help it. Whenever I saw saw Dad or my sister, all I could think about was her. It had been two years, and the feelings were still raw.
We were civil at dinner. I told him about Frank's offer. He said he had no money and that I'd better concentrate on getting help.
There was just no talking to anyone. Everyone had poor advice that just didn't apply to my situation. It was clear that there was little sympathy for someone who had lost everything, that everyone was too busy hanging on to what little they had. Me included of course. Just surviving.
After dinner Dad watched TV and I excused myself to sit by the pool, smoke and think for a while. It was beautiful that night. There was a full moon and a sweet breeze. No one was around and it was perfect. Just me and my thoughts to accompany me. At least they wouldn't judge me, scold me. I was nervous about seeing Julia the next day. I had no idea what I would say.
After a few smokes and some peace I went back inside. Dad was getting ready for bed. We said good night and I curled up on the couch to sleep. I couldn't get to sleep and went outside and smoked a couple more. Finally I fell asleep and when I woke up, Dad was already awake.
He gave me a few bucks and told me again to go to the hospital and get help. He seemed sympathetic. He then told me to take care of myself and I walked away. I walked to the library, enjoying the fresh air, with a spring in my step anticipating my meeting with Julia that afternoon. Thinking back, I may not have had any reason to be so happy, but I was. The day was nice and I was looking forward to the rest of it. Though I had no idea where the hell I'd end up by the end of it. I gave more consideration to the homeless shelter. I had exhausted all my resources. No friends would put me up, I had utterly no place to go anymore. I pulled the slip of paper out of my pocket and looked at the number for the homeless shelter. I quickly put it back in my pocket, put the evening out of my head and marched to the library.
I read for a while. Checked my email. Nothing. Even opened up Facebook. Nothing interesting there. I went downstairs and called Julia. We were still on for lunch and it was about time to be heading there. I had told her I was low on funds and maybe we could meet for fast food. She wouldn't have it and insisted on paying. I started making my way to Amigos Buenos, a Mexican restaurant a few blocks away from the library. I was cleaned up and even though I carried my heavy backpack, I could pass for a student I figured.
We met in the parking lot. Julia took a look at me and smiled. We hugged and she told me to store my backpack in her car. We went inside. I have to admit I felt a bit more respectable without lugging that damn backpack in with me.
She knew there was something amiss and immediately asked, “So what's going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What's in that backpack?”
I couldn't hide what was going on. My skin had been burnt from the days out in the sun, my complexion ragged and, I'm sure, my eyes seemed distant, lost. Indeed I was lost. I began tearing up and confessed all. She smiled and took my hand. I felt comforted.
We ordered our meals and went back to talking.
“Do you still paint?”
“Not lately, but I have kept up with it over the years.”
“I want you to paint me something when you get settled in with Frank.”
“Have no idea how I'm getting up there.”
“Don't worry about that. I get good discounts on airfare and I will arrange it.”
I cried again. Our meals came. I ate heartily, it was delicious.
After the meal we went to the library and she used my laptop to buy a ticket. I used her cell phone and called Frank. We hadn't spoken on the phone in over two years. I kept it brief, told him when the plane would land and he agreed to pick me up.
I couldn't believe my fortune. Things had finally started to turn around for me. The plane didn't leave for three days however and I would have to find a place to stay until then. Julia was living with her parents with her daughter and couldn't have me there. She suggested pleading with Dad to let me stay until the day of my flight. I didn't see much chance in that, he was against my leaving, but I told her I would.
She had to pick up her daughter from school. We pecked on the lips and hugged warmly. It was nice and she was still as beautiful as ever.
“Call me or email me when you get settled in. And I expect that painting too.”
“Absolutely.”
I curled up with a book on a cushioned chair for a while. I got chilly and headed outside for a smoke. No one bothered me, there was a nice breeze. When I was done smoking I called Dad and told him I had a flight leaving in a few days. He said nothing at first, then finally:
“If that's what you really want to do.”
“I do. It's the only thing I've got.”
“Dell, you need help. You need medication. For me and your sister, get some help when you get up there.”
I told him I'd think about it. I asked if I could stay until my flight left and as I figured he refused.
“You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out of it,” he said and hung up.
I cursed him and made my way back to my spot under the tree to meditate on my situation. There was only one course now: check into the homeless shelter for a few days.
I called the number I had and they gave me instructions on how to get in that night. Apparently I had to meet a van that would be coming near the bus depot and they would provide me with a waiver, a meal and a bus pass. My bus pass had expired, so that would be helpful. The waiver indicated which home you were to go to. There were different shelters involved in this whole “meet the van” gambit. I didn't fully understand the situation, but thanked the person on the other line and checked the clock in the library. I had an hour to meet the van and it was about a ten minute walk. I sat under my tree and stared at the sea of homeless faces milling about the library lawn. I saw nothing I liked and a bit of fear crossed my heart. I was afraid of the shelter, what was ahead of me, but clung on to the hope that my flight would bring: a new start.
I bought cigarettes and a Mountain Dew with the money Dad had given me. When I arrived at the spot where the van was to come there were a couple dozen others also waiting. Finally the van came, along with another car. The man from the car passed out Wendy's hamburgers, I got two of them, and though I was still full from my meal with Julia I chomped them down along with everyone else.
A line formed at the van and when it was my turn up I told them I needed a place for a couple of days until my flight left. They gave me a waiver and a bus pass and told me which bus to catch.
I made my way to the bus depot and waited. The bus arrived, I boarded. It was about twenty minutes to the shelter. I felt eyes upon me the whole time. They could sense I was pitiful, without a home, without anything. I kept my head down and got off at my stop without looking at anyone. I crossed the street and into Viceroy Home. I saw an old cop car parked in front, as though it belonged to the home. It had the number eight on it, which I took as a good sign, it was my mother's life path—in numerology it is all the digits of your birthdate added up. I wasn't sure how much I believed in numerology, but I still took it as a good omen. And that was a theme to everything lately. Though I believed in nothing really, I took in many good omens, because they added a little meaning to my shitty situation. I paid attention to more details than I had used to. I had all the time in the world to do so then and I needed anything good that I could get.
After about an hour or so of processing, I was tasked with cleaning up. I did so, quietly. About half the people there were even more lost than I was. They mumbled to themselves, argued with each other over useless things.
“That's mine!” I heard someone scream and the screaming didn't subside for a few minutes. I swept the halls of the shelter and eventually mopped. We had dinner and me and the new arrivals slept on mats in the cafeteria. I fell asleep right way.
The next day I was told to keep guard on the floor. I sat in a chair for six hours or so and in the meantime a few people greeted me. One offered me pills, said he could get anything I wanted. I told him I only smoked pot and he said “give me a few days.” I told him I would be leaving soon and he just smiled and walked away. Maybe that was a story everyone used. I was told by several people that they had been there for weeks or months. I felt sorry for them, still clinging to the idea that this was just a temporary setback for me. Which of course, it was. There was one girl, I was convinced, who was being pimped out by her boyfriend. I saw them going in and out of rooms throughout my shift and she seemed embarrassed whenever I would see her in the hall. She was really cute too, but so fragile looking. Not hard like most homeless people appear. As a matter of fact, most people there had seemed softer, more broken than the lot you find living on the streets. Of course the missing element from the homeless outsider was that these homeless were institutionalized. I wondered if I would have been better off sleeping in the park for a few days.
I spoke with Dad on the phone and told him where I was. He seemed a little sorrowful and even a bit angry at the news, but finally he said that the night before I could stay with him and that he would take me to the airport the day of my flight.
I had some of my old prescription, antipsychotic medication, in my bag. I offered it to the nurse when she came. I told her it might help others there. She thanked me, and when the front desk lady noticed this she gave me a pack of cigarettes. I was beaming, since I had smoked my last one an hour before.
I sat out in the patio area where there was a television. Some action movie was playing. A dude walked up to me and asked for a smoke. I told him I only had a couple left. He grumbled and walked away. He sat down in a corner and stared at me until dinner was ready and I left for the cafeteria. I saw him a few more times that night and he kept giving me dirty looks. I swore that if he had had a gun he would have shot me for not giving him one of my cigarettes.
I worked through the next day until about three. I told them my dad said I could stay with him and that he would be bringing me to the airport the next day. The lady at the front desk didn't seem to believe me but told me I was free to leave whenever I wanted. I asked if I could get a bus pass and she said they didn't have any. So I left.
It was a long way back to Dad's. I had spoken to him on the phone before I had left the shelter and he said he would pick me up at the library at seven that night.
I began walking but got turned around when the road I was on led to a highway only. Not wanting to risk a cop stopping me as I walked on a highway road, I would have to turn around and walk almost all the way back to where the shelter was and take another road. It would be hours before I would make it to the library. I had no money for bus fair but I had my calling card. I called Charlie. He was on the road making deliveries and said to wait at the gas station and that he would give me a lift to the library.
I thanked Charlie over and over again and told him of my plans. He smiled and seemed happy for me. We shook hands at the library, I got out and went inside. I wandered around looking at various books. My mind was racing so bad I couldn't concentrate on any one for more than a minute or two. I did this for a while and finally went outside and sat under my tree. According to the clock in the library I had about forty-five minutes until seven. It was bright and hot outside, but I had my little shelter under the tree. I smoked my last cigarette.
Dad arrived and I walked over and got in his car. He stopped at McDonald's and we ate. He then stopped and got me two packs of my cheap smokes. We had a long talk beginning at McDonald's and ending at his condo. He brought up Mom and there were tears in his eyes. I was somewhat lucid during all this and we managed to have a decent conversation. He again pleaded with me to get help once I got up to Minnesota and I said that I would. And I was serious. I would at least see a therapist I thought, though I was still opposed to the medication route, even if everyone seemed to think it was the only choice I had.
I barely slept that night but there was peace in my heart. I had a place to sleep tonight, and after tonight, I had a place to stay and get my life back in order. I emailed Julia and thanked her again, and emailed Frank my flight information. I slumbered for a couple of hours and Dad woke me. My sister came over and gave me fifty dollars to help me on my way. I thanked her and Dad and I left for the airport.
The flight was uneventful. I was tired but couldn't sleep. I half-expected Frank not to show up at the airport, that something was just bound to go wrong. But he did. It was a couple hours drive back to his place. We caught up. It had been years since we had seen each other, but it seemed like little time had passed. He had his own house. It was two stories and I had the guest room upstairs. He uncorked a bottle of wine and broke out a couple of cigars. We drank and smoked and played some video games.
He told me that he would introduce me to some people and that I could get some rest and get my head straight.
“That medication will just fuck you up more,” he said.
“Don't I know it. I've been on them for years, my mind isn't used to being on its own. It'll adjust back.”
“You know what I've done to keep me sane?”
“What's that?”
“I've made my life into a video game. Constantly checking my stats, my supplies, my weapons. Understand?”
“Sort of, haha.”
“It works I tell ya!”
“Will keep it in mind,” I said and excused myself. I showered and went upstairs to my room. I lay down and opened the curtain. And where it had been in the upper eighties down in Florida, late October in Minnesota I saw the most amazing thing. Snow had started falling. A overwhelming peace came over me. I thought about my harrowing adventure over the last month or so and it was all a blur. I wasn't sure how I had gotten from one day to the next but somehow I had managed to survive the ordeal.
I still had a way to go to get my life back in shape, but at least, now, I had a starting point in which to make that happen. I stood up and watched the snow fall. It started covering the street and the cars. I looked beyond the houses and the trees and watched the snow drift far away and looked up into the darkness of the sky from which it was falling. I thought about what Julia had said, about wanting me to paint her something. I would have to get my art supplies back from Gary, but I knew what I wanted to paint for her. I wanted to paint hope, clearly illustrated in the snowy street scene before me. A new life, an extra life as Frank may have put it, was just beginning.
