Walter The Homeless Man

by Tekoa Manning

  They had seemed to look at the bird in a whole new light and with a whole new respect. “So Mom, can I keep her?”

  Desiree looked at Josh beaming at the bird and just couldn’t say no, not, after all, he had been through. “Sure Josh.”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” he chimed and grabbed her leg and waist holding on with glee. They loaded the bird back into the jeep and headed to Dr. Lord’s office. Desiree held her breath almost the whole way there. She was so frightened and so unsure about so many things. She felt so many emotions and so many fears, yet she was grateful for Bradford and was thankful that God had brought someone strong into her life to help her at this moment.

  Catnip

  Chapter 20

  Benjamin crawled out of bed and headed to the shower. He couldn’t wait until he finished up his last two weeks at the School for the Blind, then he wouldn’t have to see Marcie anymore. He felt sick at his stomach and sick of his life. If he had any spine or backbone he would have already finished himself off. He had thought about taking his life after the wreck and had been placed on suicide watch while in jail. Sometimes he thought about going back home and looking up some of his friends, but it just wasn’t a home anymore after his mother died of cancer. His parents had adopted him. They had tried repeatedly to have children but had no luck at it. “That should have been their first signal from God that they weren’t meant to be parents,” he thought.

  His father, Larry, was an alcoholic and his mother was an Edith Bunker type who instead of repeating, “Oh Archie,” said “Oh Larry” constantly. She just worried herself sick. She spent her days trying to make sure his father didn’t become upset, in hopes he would not turn into a monster, which had backfired more times than he could count. It was like waiting for the plot in a horror movie. You just never knew when it was going to jump out. Anything and everything could cause an explosion. “Ben, did you drink the last of the milk? Benjamin, did you just use the last of the hot water in the shower? Dammit Benjamin, If I’ve told you once I’ve told you . . . ahhh hell forget it, I would have to pick the most stupid child at the adoption agency!”

  And then his mother would chime in, “Oh Larry, don’t say that that’s a horrible thing to say, Larry! Don’t listen to him Ben, Don’t listen.”

  And then his father would throw something, “Shut your pie hole, Grace, before I shut it for you.” Then he’d stumble across the room towards Benjamin’s mother and proceed to tell her the only thing more worthless than his son was her.

  Benjamin couldn’t wait to leave home. He couldn’t wait to get away from it all and then his mother got sick with cancer. He couldn’t leave her alone with that jerk, so he stayed until hospice came in and his father had to help wipe her bottom and wait to destroy his liver with his scotch after the nurses left. Benjamin had stayed and watched her waste away to nothing. He loved his mother but he had begged her time after time to leave Larry. She just didn’t have it in her. He wished he knew where his real father was because he’d love to find him and just beat the living crap out of him. It was always the men who didn’t want the kids, Benjamin knew that much. He had seen friends at school go through hoops to get the abortion money for their girlfriend so they wouldn’t have to deal with the responsibility. He wondered where his real mother was. His real parents were probably able to finish up their degrees and get those cushy jobs, able to buy the big nice home in the suburbs, and take a nice trip to Disneyland once a year. Yes, without the burden of raising him they could have such wonderful lives. He could still picture the home where he was raised, the screen door torn and the ceiling fans covered in dust that spun too fast. The blades always looked as if they were going to fly right off the fan and decapitate someone. It was hard to stay cool in the summers with one window unit to cool the shotgun house. The walls were paneled and the sinks dripped. The sound of water going plink plink plink would keep Benjamin awake at night, that, and the sound of his father forcing himself on his mother. Yep, he wondered what his other life would have been like, but instead he had been given this life all wrapped in paper and neatly placed into a loving family of freaks.

  Every time Benjamin tried to remember something special and caring, it was instantly replaced with a swift kick or hurtful words. Like the time, he brought the stray cat home he had found. He didn’t know it had just had babies and was sickly. His father had grunted, “What the hell you got Ben?”

  “Um it’s a cat dad, can I keep it?” Benjamin’s voice was trembling and so were his fingers as he reached for a bowl and began pouring some milk in it. Ben could smell the liquor on his father’s breath as he continued to provoke him.

  “You think I got money to spare so you can waste milk on some damn cat? You think money just grows on trees, is that it? Huh, huh,” he slapped his head hard with an open hand. “Well, why don’t you go pick some milk money off one of them there trees,” he said sarcastically. Ben’s heart sank and fear had replaced excitement, why had he thought any different. Was it because sometimes his father surprised him? Yes, sometimes he could confuse Benjamin with his actions. There were those hopeful words his father could use; he could still hear them.

  “Benjamin wants a cat aye, well let’s have a look at the little fellow.” He picked it up and began stroking its fur, the cat had even begun to purr. “Nice kitty, you’re a nice, nice kitty aren’t you?” Benjamin had felt a twinge of hope and then his father had walked to the sink in front of the window, all the while stroking it and speaking friendly hopeful words. “What a good pleasant girl,” he said as the cat rubbed her head along his arms purring. He kept stroking it and talking to it. Then the evil voice that Benjamin was too familiar with took over, “Benny wanta kitty? Ahh does little Benny wanta kitty?”

  “Stop it,” cried Ben, but it was no use and then his father held the cats head under the sink full of dirty dish water. He held it hard struggling with it until his father’s arms were clawed and bleeding from the cat fighting for her life. He remembered his father throwing it against the wall and Ben guessed what people say about cats was true, they do have nine lives or, at least, this one sure did. That was the last time Benjamin had asked for a pet of any kind.

  He stepped out of the shower and tried to decide if his conscience could handle lying to Marcie. He knew she was a gold mine, with money to spare. If he could play his cards right, he could possibly come out ahead. But his past would always be there to haunt him, and a man like Marcie Owens father would certainly do a background check. What if he continued with his story and only changed a few details. It was possible that he could convince even him; they did it in the movies, why couldn’t he? He pulled his t-shirt over his head and popped the lid off a beer bottle. White cold smoke hovered off the top. “Breakfast,” he said, as he raised the bottle in the air. “Cheers, dad!”

  Buddy

  Chapter 21

  Walter was astonished at how quickly he received a ride. A black semi-truck with orange and yellow airbrushed flames pulled over to the side of the road in the darkness. A large bellied man sat behind the wheel. He had a long graying beard and he startled Walter as he hollered out the window, “Where you headed old timer?”

  That’s the thing. Walter really didn’t know, but he knew he needed a ride desperately. “Where you headed?” Walter asked the trucker sheepishly.

  “Well I’m headed to Nashville, but first I’m headed to a diner up the road for some eggs, you interested.”

  “Sure,” said Walter. He was feeling overdressed in the suit pants and dress shirt and was thankful he had grabbed his coat from the hospital bag. He was a little embarrassed that he had no money for breakfast, but maybe he could get a biscuit or, at least, a cup of coffee out of the man.

  “You like the South Side Café?”

  “Never heard of it,” said Walter.

  “Never heard of it!” The man looked at him like he was the strangest character he’d run across.

  “No sir,” said Walter. “Is it good?”

  “Is
it good?” Walter could see that the man was going to answer each question with the same question and it struck him as funny. They pulled the big rig into the truck stop at the next exit, and Walter immediately noticed a couple police cars in the parking lot and wondered if the guard from the hospital might be in there.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced,” said the trucker. “I’m Buddy,” he looked towards Walter who had to think for a minute about whether he should give his real name.

  “I’m Clay,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Buddy, thanks for picking me up.”

  “Not a problem,” he said and climbed down out of his rig.

  Walter didn’t know what to do now. He glanced across the truck and spotted a black toboggan. “Do you mind,” said Walter holding it up.

  “No, Clay you go ahead, I think it belongs to the last guy I picked up. I don’t pick up many anymore, can’t trust people these days like you used to.” He glanced at Walter and eyed him up and down, giving Walter uneasiness. “What are you dressed for old timer? I mean it’s early and you look like you’re ready for church,” he chuckled and kept walking, not waiting for Walter’s reply. He grabbed a booth in the front and Walter sat with his back to the restaurant, after glancing about and spotting an officer or two towards the back.

  The booth wasn’t greasy, but more coated with oil, dust and some sort of film that caused you to stick to it. The table was covered with a red and white checkered table cloth that had a plastic vinyl top for easy clean up. The menu was plastic and one page, with breakfast on one side, lunch and dinner items on the other. A lady in a checked polyester blouse that said “South Side” in stitching above the pocket, grabbed Buddy and placed his head in her bosom, hugging him and smiling. “How’s my favorite trucker,” she said standing back now and smiling widely. Her teeth were overlapped in the front and her figure was straight up and down, no curves, just busty. If she noticed Walter at all, he couldn’t tell. She never acknowledged his presence, until Buddy ordered two coffees before Walter could protest.

  “Thanks, Buddy, I appreciate it.” Buddy nodded still gazing at the waitress with the boyish shape. Walter knew he needed to eat something and quick. His blood sugar was acting funny and he knew one cup of coffee wasn’t going to fix it.

  The waitress came back and set the two steaming cups of coffee down and Walter noticed her name tag, “Donna,” it said. Walter figured she looked like a Donna, with her bleached blonde hair and pink pastel lipstick smeared across her overlapping teeth. “Whatta ya having, Bud, your usual?”

  “Nah, think I’ll switch it up, this time, give me a ham and cheese omelet with hash browns and a side of biscuits and gravy. Oh, what the heck, give me a slice or two of that thick bacon too.” Walter eyed his belly that was pressed against the table, tiny holes in his t-shirt struggled to keep from splitting apart. Donna looked at Walter. Walter stirred his coffee and acted as if he didn’t feel her eyes upon him. “Whatcha havin, Clay,” Buddy asked.

  “I’m good,” said Walter.

  Buddy’s voice perked up, “Oh no you don’t. You never been to South Side Café and you ain’t getting nothing? Give him an order of biscuits and gravy Donna and put it all on my ticket!”

  Walter smiled and thanked Buddy. His bladder was on the verge of bursting and the restroom sign was calling his name, but the police officers were sitting right next to the entry way. Walter pulled the toboggan down a little lower and excused himself and made his way to the restroom. His heart was beating strong and hard. He knew at this point that there was a special bulletin on all the news channels with a photo of him to view. He walked past the two men in uniform and stood at the urinal just waiting for the trickle to become a stream. He was just beginning to feel some release when he heard the door open and watched the shiny military shoes standing next to him. Walter didn’t have to look up; he would know those pants and shoes anywhere. “Morning sir,” the officer said looking towards Walter who was zipping up his fly.

  “Morning to you,” Walter said politely and left without washing up or looking in the mirror. He made his way back to the booth and was thankful the truck stop was old and outdated and had no TV in sight. Walter just couldn’t take looking at his photo and hearing what a dangerous criminal he was. He wondered if his son or daughter would see the report and what they would think about him now. Walter shuffled back to the booth and slid in.

  “So tell me about yourself Clay, you got family here?”

  “I sure do,” said Walter, forgetting for a moment that he went by the alias Clay.

  Buddy crinkled up his forehead and looked at Walter funny. “Then why they letting you hitchhike in this cold air?”

  Walter hadn’t thought his plan through enough. He could see he was going to have to come up with answers for this Buddy character and fast. “Buddy you ever been in love?” Buddy shook his head and waited. “Well, I recently lost the love of my life. The only woman I have ever loved and ever will love. After my wife was buried, I got lonely, depressed, and at times just crazy. You ever felt like that Buddy?” He looked intently into Buddy’s eyes.

  “Yes, Clay, I have. I have been out on this road so long I forgot what it was like to have my family. After spending three weeks, sometimes four away from home at a time, Sheila I guess got lonely and started looking elsewhere. I would have never thought she’d do it. I thought we were golden.” He kept talking about Sheila and Walter let out a sigh of relief. It would take him a while to come back around as to why Walter was hitching a ride. To top it off Donna was bringing the plates. She sat a hefty size portion of two biscuits halved and smothered in thick sausage gravy in front of Walter and then a smorgasbord of plates in front of Buddy. Everything looked so good to Walter after eating the hospital food.

  He started bragging right away to Buddy. “You sure do know how to pick a place,” Walter said, taking a bite of his gravy encrusted biscuits.

  Buddy held out a piece of bacon towards Walter. “Try this bacon, you ain't never tasted thick smokehouse bacon like this before. Go on,” he said holding it up in front of Walter, dangling it.

  Walter took the piece, anything to keep the conversation on the food was fine with him. “Sure is good Buddy and you’re right, I don’t think I’ve ever had bacon this thick or this good.”

  About that time Donna came over and poured more coffee into their cups. She smiled at Buddy and started talking about her tips and the lack of them on third shift. “Hell, if it wasn’t for my breakfast bunch, I wouldn’t be able to pay my bills. Course you always take care of me,” she said rubbing her hand along his back and pressing her large bust into his shoulder.

  Buddy wiped most all the gravy out of his beard and smiled up at Donna. Walter felt a little like he was intruding on something. Donna kept talking and then shared with Buddy how the last trucker that stiffed her said, “If you want to get your tip, it’s in the bed of my truck. Can you believe that Buddy?” Only she said it with a delightful mixture of poor pitiful me and please take me outside Buddy and show me your rig.

  Buddy almost blushed and then said, “Darling, you know you can come on the road with me anytime. Shoot, ole boy like me gets lonely.”

  Walter had about all the stickiness he could take. He ate his food in silence and drowned out Donna, Buddy, and the police officers. That is until they got ready to leave, Donna brought the tab, and with big eyes looked at Buddy and said, “Be careful who you pick up. Marty and Hank over there said they got a report in of a criminal who escaped Floyd Memorial hospital.” Buddy looked as if he’d heard it plenty of times, but Walter wished he could disappear at that very moment and crawl under a booth.

  Buddy placed a twenty on the top of the bill and told Donna to keep the change. “Remember Bud, be careful out there.”

  Buddy grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to him and said, “Maybe what I need is someone like you to protect me.” Donna giggled and shoved the ticket with the twenty in her pocket and moseyed off to the next booth to cuddle up
to another lonely driver.

  Brenda

  Chapter 22

  Brenda King was getting ready for her job at the bank where she had been a teller for almost twelve years. She had just stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around her head, and was brewing her morning coffee when she turned on the six o’clock news. She was patting her long red hair and checking the weather report to see if rain or snow was in the forecast when a picture of her father appeared on the screen. “Burt,” she yelled, “come quickly!” Her husband, who worked second shift at the Frito Lay plant, wasn’t used to her making a commotion, and since he hadn’t heard his ninety-pound German shepherd bark, he gathered himself and stumbled into the living room. He arrived just as the reporter was finishing up, “The man was last seen wearing navy blue slacks and a white dress shirt, leaving Floyd Memorial Hospital, he is believed to be on foot, police say the suspect is unarmed.” Brenda was pointing at the television set but not making a sound.

  Calm down Brenda, Burt said and rubbed her back. “What’s he wanted for anyway?”

  “I don’t know Burt, something about breaking and entering and possible child abuse, case pending further investigation, I think.” She was sobbing now and completely shocked.

  “But Brenda, we both know Walter is not capable of such allegations.”

  Brenda looked at Burt and wanted to believe what he was saying was true. She loved her father. He had always been a good father but something had happened to him after her mother became ill. She knew he had loved her mother more than her or her brother Daniel. That was obvious. To just run off and not even stay and help care for her, well, Brenda still had anger and rage in her heart against him. He had not been there for her. He had left her all alone to deal with all the suffering and heartache. He wasn’t there when her mother, Ruthie would peer into the mirror at the nursing facility and say, “Brenda that woman is staring at me, make her stop. I don’t know why she’s in my room, please make her stop.” Her mother had held the bristle brush in her hand, raised at her own reflection as if she’d never even laid eyes upon herself.