Walter The Homeless Man

by Tekoa Manning

  But when Bradford shut his eyes and pictured where he longed to be, it was an old home that had been restored, a home with character and enough land to fish and ride a dirt bike. He wanted to buy a head of cattle, even if he didn’t know one thing about them. He wanted to grow gardens on that land and walk up and down the length of it and throughout it, and stand upon it and appraise it and say, “Bradford Stiltz you got you a little piece of heaven!” But so far he’d only had the courage to buy the Jeep and he had taken a good beating on that from the guys at the firm. They didn’t get him. Most of his peers at the firm were into luxury, fine homes, sports cars and trophy wives. There were a few that could bait a hook and shoot a gun, but it was slim pickings.

  Bradford pulled in the drive, walked up on the porch, and knocked on the brass door knocker, engraved with the name, Levite. A small boy with rumpled hair and spider man pajamas cracked the door and peeked out a small split. “Hello there, you must be Josh,” the door opened wider as Josh peered upward at the tall man standing on the door step. “Is your mom around, Josh?”

  “Yes, she is, wanna see?” Josh opened the door a little wider and displayed a modest living room. Desiree was curled up in a fetal form on an overstuffed chair, a white laced pillow, and a crocheted afghan covered her body.

  “Well do you mind if I come in Josh, she is expecting me and we work together, my name is Bradford,” and he smiled at the boy who he’d heard had a horrible temperament.

  Josh jumped up and down, “I gotta a new bird, and her name is Jackie wanna see?”

  “Sure Josh, but let’s be quiet and let your mom get some sleep.” Josh took off flying down the three steps that led down into the den and then up three more that led to the door entrance of the garage. A large cage sat in the corner and a peculiar bird hopped up and down as Josh opened the door and began to reach in and pull her out. “Hold on there, buddy, are you supposed to let him out of the cage.”

  “It’s a she,” shouted Josh in a voice way too big for his body. “Her name is Jackie and I am watching her for Walter.”

  “Who’s Walter?” Asked Bradford in a curious gesture. He knew about Desiree’s deceased husband John, but he had never heard her mention a Walter.

  “Walter is my friend,” said Josh. “He used to live behind my house in the woods. He was camping out back there.”

  Bradford creased his brow and took hold of Josh’s arm, “What happened to Walter?” Bradford asked sternly, frightened for what Desiree must have been through.

  “Let go of my arm,” Josh said, shoving him.

  “Josh answer me. What happened to Walter?”

  “The men took him away in the truck with the lights. He was wearing my daddy’s tie.”

  “He was?” Bradford felt an alarm go off inside of him. “Walter was your friend you say?”

  “Yes, I already told you and that’s Walter’s bird Jackie. Walter had to run away because he did something bad.”

  “Oh is that so Josh? Well, why don’t you tell me all about what Walter did that was bad?” Bradford took his hand and began to describe the jelly filled donuts and the chocolate sprinkled ones, as they walked out to his Jeep to get the box out of the seat. Bradford was trying to figure out how to go about this. “Josh was Walter ever mean to you?”

  “No,” said Josh with his head down.

  “Did Walter ever touch you anywhere or do anything that scared you or made you feel uncomfortable?”

  Josh looked at Bradford’s face and decided he didn’t like him or anyone else who was trying to get him to say bad things about Walter! “NO! I hate you! I hate you, leave me alone.” He raced through the garage door and into the house before Bradford could stop him. Josh had even forgotten Jackie and had left her to be placed in the cage by Bradford. The bird squawked almost as much as Josh, and Bradford wondered what he was getting himself into.

  He walked into the living room and gave Desiree a small pat on her arm and then began to brush the hairs out of her eyes. “Hey you,” he said as she began to come out of her hard slumber.

  “Oh God. Oh Brad, how long have you been here? Gosh Brad, I am so sorry. I laid on the couch here by the door so I wouldn’t miss you . . . Who let you in?”

  Just then she heard heavy stomps coming down the hall and a familiar voice yelling, “Mom, I hate him, make him leave!” Bradford smiled and told Desiree he had already picked up breakfast and called the office to notify everyone that they would not be in today.

  “Oh God. Oh no, my grandma, I totally forgot to call her back,” and with that she jumped up and grabbed the phone out of its cradle and before she could finish her sentence, began to cry again. Bradford was completely baffled by the complexity of it all and at the emotions he was seeing in a woman that hadn’t displayed this much fear when she lost her husband John. “I’ll have to explain later Grams, okay I’ll drop Tabitha off shortly,” and with that, she was back in control. “Would you like some coffee Brad?” she asked, as she made her way into the humble kitchen.

  “I would love some,” he said. Just as he proceeded to follow her, a sleepy-eyed beauty came tumbling down the hallway in a long pink nightgown, smiling at Bradford as if they were old friends. Hum, thought Brad, this might prove to be interesting.

  Bradford reached for her hand and to his surprise she accepted. They tottered into the kitchen and he placed her on her chair as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Desiree turned and placed the cups of coffee on the table and asked Bradford if he needed cream or sugar. He looked into her eyes that were watering and said, “Desiree, I know you didn’t wake me up at 4 in the morning to see if I use cream or sugar. What has happened? You say you have been robbed and the whole house is spotless, nothing turned or dumped out. Then Josh tells me some man was in your house, and he was his friend. And to top it all off, you have a strange bird in your garage with a holding device on his leg? What on God’s green earth is going on here? I mean I am here for you, but you have got to fill me in. I am an attorney you know, and I want to help you, but what is this all about?”

  “Oh God, Brad, that’s just it, even I don’t know what’s going on. For weeks, Josh kept telling me there was someone camping out behind our house and that he had seen a blanket and a can with seeds in it. Well, Bradford, I just brushed it off; he has such a vivid imagination, if you catch my drift.”

  Josh ran to the box of donuts and pulled them off the counter into the floor. He grabbed a chocolate one and shoved it in his mouth abruptly. Desiree tried to pick up the mess and get Josh to go play in his room. “I’ll make a bet with you Josh, okay? If you can go in your room and play quietly while Brad and I talk, I will let you stay home from school today and I’ll even let you take that bird to the vet.”

  “Really?” Josh said, his eyes huge. This was too good to be true thought, Josh. “Okay,” said Josh, “but you promised?”

  “Yes Josh, and I never break my promises.”

  “You did that one time.” said Josh.

  “And just when was that?” Desiree peered into his big almond eyes.

  “When you promised Daddy would take us to the zoo.”

  Desiree had forgotten all about the promise to the zoo and all about the ingredients she had sent John out to get so she could finish packing up the cooler full of treats for the children. “Josh go play in your room for Mommy, please.”

  Josh sensed a sound in her voice that he would not argue with this morning, a sound of fear. He turned and ran, then abruptly stopped in the hallway as his socks slid clear across the shiny hardwood floor. Desiree followed Josh and made sure he was willing to make good on their bet. He grabbed his Lego bucket and dumped it out in the middle of the room. “I am going to make Jackie a new cage,” Josh said as he began to pick up pieces.

  She came back up the hall and found Tabitha holding something soggy that used to be a donut, jelly was smudged on her face, and she seemed to be enjoying her new found friend. “Hi, Mommy!” Tabitha waved and smiled up at her.
<
br />   “Hi, my sweetheart!”

  Bradford had poured milk into the sippy cup Desiree had set on the counter, and they seemed to be having a good time together. “Carry on now,” Bradford said, with his brows raised to show he was still waiting for the rest of her story.

  “Well, Bradford, like I said before I never thought anything about it. Then Josh gets sick at school and we arrive home early to find an old man wearing John’s suit and tie sitting on my sofa as if it were the most natural thing in the world. To top it all off, Josh knows him and even calls him by name, Walter or something. I swear Brad if that sick perverted old man touched one hair on my son’s head, I’ll have him castrated, even if I have to do it myself!” Her voice was cracking and Bradford sensed that underneath her tough exterior was a woman about to break.

  “Come here, Desiree,” Bradford got up out of his chair and held his arms out to her and she held on to him as if she were on the sinking Titanic.

  “Oh God, Brad, Oh God, what if he touched my son, what if he hurt him?” Tears streamed down her face and her nose began to run. Bradford continued to rub her back and pat her head.

  “It’s alright Des, it will be alright, I will see to that. That’s a promise.” He pulled her face towards his and looked into her striking dark eyes and said, “I never break my promises!”

  Visions

  Chapter 15

  Walter sat up in bed and waited as the doctor pushed on the knot that was still the size of some type of fruit. Walter realized they always described it that way, tumors the size of grapefruits and cysts the size of oranges, and the knot on his head a few days before had been the size of a plum. Now the doctor said, “Looks like you took a hard hit by the size of that walnut on your head.” Then he smiled at Walter as if they were old friends and as if Walter wasn’t an accused child molester. “Alrighty, the MRI looks fine and so does the CAT scan, so I guess as soon as we get your sugar straightened out, you should be on your way.” He smiled again and then chuckled, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses and combing over his few strands of hair with his stubby fingers. “Yep, you’ll be on your way home.”

  Walter found it amusing that he kept implying he had some nice quiet home, on some nice quiet street to go to, like the police officer with the black shades wasn’t sitting across the room just waiting to cuff him. Walter thought about his options and he had weighed them carefully. He could call Brenda and beg for her to forgive him for deserting her and leaving her with Ruthie to care for all alone. Yes, he had even left her to bury Ruthie, “Ruthie.” Walter said her name again, “Ruthie,” the word seemed to glide across his memory like a wonderful movie screen and she was the star of the film. Each clip was a precious moment in history. The first kiss they shared and how he had gone home that night and replayed it in his mind over and over again. The look of her eyes, the touch of her hand, her smile, and then clips of her enjoying her iris garden. She wore a hat and gloves and carried with her an array of tools. She always wore dirt smudged on her face. Oh, she looked beautiful with those flowers as a backdrop.

  Then there was the excitement of her first pregnancy. She had gone out and bought a baby rattle, two to be exact -- a pink one and a blue one -- then she had gift wrapped them and placed them in his briefcase for work. He remembered opening the first one at his desk after getting her on the phone and asking her what the gifts were for. “It’s not my birthday,” he had said. Oh the excitement in her voice as she cried, “Open it, open it, and hurry!” And before he could say a word she had cried, “Walter, you’re going to be a father!”

  Walter snapped out of dream land and back into reality as a candy striper sat his lunch tray before him. It held Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, green beans and peaches in juice along with juice in a plastic container that he was far too familiar with opening for Ruthie at the home. Walter began to think about option number two, his son. But if the truth be told, Walter had always been closer to his daughter. He never had to compete with her, never had to impress her. He loved his son Daniel but he always felt so inferior to him. Daniel had the corporate job, the big home, and the degree that Walter never had the opportunity to achieve. They were more like pals, but Walter needed an attorney and in a bad way. He couldn’t even remember all the charges he had against him and now the mistake of talking to the child, what in the world was he thinking? Walter hadn’t meant any harm, and besides, the child was spying on him and not the other way around.

  The police officer moved his sunglasses, placed them on top his head, and glared at Walter as he began to eat his dinner. “Ole man you got it comin, you understand. We don’t play them pedophile games here. You’ll get whattcha got comin, hear?”

  “But I never did anything,” Walters’s eyes pleaded with the cold officer as he shifted his eyes away from him.

  The officer looked at Walter as he made his way to the bed, “We’ll just see about that, old man. We will just see about that.”

  Walters’s steak and gravy traveled back up to his mouth, he forced it back down and waited for the officer to leave his bedside. There was another officer with copper red hair and a much kinder manner who came on Tuesdays and Fridays. Walter looked forward to those days, but it looked as if he would be leaving now. Walter wondered where he would be going, as he forced another bite of food down.

  Walls

  Chapter 16

  Benjamin shifted and felt for his arm that had gone to sleep. He smelled a fragrance of apricots and tobacco as he placed his nose into Marcie’s hair. With memories of the night before still fresh in his mind, he felt a sensitivity he hadn’t felt in so long that he did not know how to react. He began to panic and then slid his arm out from under her, slipping quietly out of bed. He walked into the living room and grabbed his boxers. While putting on his jeans, he picked up his wrist watch and looked at the time, eight a.m. He never liked rising early and couldn’t wait until his community work was complete and his friend Clark could hook him up with a restaurant gig, cooking over at Frank’s Steakhouse. He needed night hours and late mornings to lounge.

  He walked back into the bedroom and peered down at Marcie. Man, she was hot and a smart chick, not some dumb girl that couldn’t take care of herself. No, Marcie was tough. He knew that from the first time he met her. He was not at all in her league, not even close. He had heard about her big shot father and she wanted him to go to her house for dinner? What was he thinking, he wished the whole thing had never transpired, and now he needed to get rid of her. He wasn’t good enough for her, and once she found out the real truth about his past she’d hate him anyway.

  He decided the best thing to do was refuse to get out of bed. She would want him to go out and get breakfast or mingle with society and he didn’t mix with anyone. He pulled off his jeans and thanked a God he didn’t know for Sundays and then crawled in next to her turning his back toward her and facing the wall. He heard her stirring and closed his eyes pulling the covers over half his face. She slid her arm around his waist, rubbed his chest, and pulled her body next to his closely. He tried to think about anything he could to keep himself from becoming aroused. Why did I let this happen? He thought to himself. Why did I let her into my life, my miserable life?

  Marcie was wide awake now. The sunlight was coming through the cracks of the dark sheet over the blinds to keep any warmth or trace of morning light from entering. He blocked it all out and pretended to drift back to sleep. Marcie walked over to the window and pulled on the sheet.

  “What are you trying to do -- blind me?” He rose up wincing at her and trying not to look into her gorgeous eyes or at her muffled hair and beautiful skin. Oh God, he hated this. He laid back down ignoring everything and pretended to be off to dreamland again.

  Marcie lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. This was going to be harder than she’d thought. She blew the smoke out and thought about their evening of lovemaking and how many times he had told her, “You are so gorgeous, so stunning.” But then as the night became longer and she became
more relaxed and sure of herself and their relationship, he had begun to talk about his fiancé that died and had even compared her to Marcie. She had brushed it off because he was a little drunk, but the more Marcie thought about it the more it bugged her. She crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray. Would she always be compared to a dead lady and would he ever love her as much? She walked to his side of the bed and moved his arms and slid right in next to him and let his body cradle hers, then she drifted back to sleep. It wasn’t until one o’clock in the afternoon that she had become tired of his charades and tired of lying there waiting for him to rise from the dead. She knew this was some kind of game, and she was tired of playing it and upset that he would treat her this way.

  She had shaken him twice getting only a grunt and a slight movement. Now she was just finished. Grabbing her clothes, she went to the restroom to get dressed. His cell phone buzzed several times, and he acted as if he slept that way every day. She knew better; she could feel his cold vibes. Grabbing her purse, her keys and her lighter she closed the door a little too hard on her way out. I hate men, she said to herself as she climbed into her car, I hate them all. She rolled out of the parking space and popped the clutch, then reached for another cigarette to start the day.