by Mary Monroe
I didn’t even let him finish his sentence. I knew what he was going to say, and it was ridiculous for him to even think a thing like that about me. “Don’t you dare go there!” I warned. “You know I’d never get involved with another man.”
Eric chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s discuss something else.”
“That’s fine with me. What do you want to talk about next?”
“Baby, you can talk to me about anything other than what we just discussed. Now, what else is on your mind?”
I thought back to my last conversation with Charles, and a sob caught in my throat. “I’m thinking about how much we have to be thankful for. You wouldn’t believe the traumatic things some of those poor people we feed have gone through.”
“Yes, I would. And I truly feel for them. But we can only do so much. They have problems we can’t fix, so I don’t want you to get too attached to any of them.”
“Eric, I’m already attached. I help feed some really sweet people who would probably be good friends to have if their circumstances were different.” I was tempted to tell Eric about Charles, but before I could, the front door opened and Mark strode in. I was so happy to see my usually elusive son, I jumped off the couch and hugged him.
“Mama, I can’t breathe,” he whimpered, struggling to get out of my embrace.
“I’m just so glad to see you,” I wailed, leading him to the couch. He bumped fists with Eric and flopped down next to him. I stood facing them.
“How much do you need this time, boy?” Eric asked, trying to look exasperated.
“I didn’t come to beg for money again. I was just in the neighborhood and I thought I’d drop by to see how you two old folks were getting along. Is everything all right?”
“Why? Do I look sick? Does your daddy look sick?” I asked, feeling Mark’s forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and gave me a dramatic look. “Um, check this out. My boy Carl told me he stopped to get a snack today from the deli down the street from that Sister what’s-her-name soup kitchen you work for.” Mark paused and stared into my eyes.
“And?” I said with a shrug, eyeing him with suspicion.
“And he told me that he saw you there chatting it up with some good-looking old dude, and you and he looked mighty cozy.” Mark looked like a cat that had swallowed several canaries. Eric’s mouth dropped open like a walleye.
I rolled my eyes and neck at the same time. “Yes, I sat at a table with a man today, but we did not look ‘mighty cozy’ at all. He eats at Sister Cecile’s every now and then. When he has money, he goes to the same deli I go to. Iola’s is a small place, and sometimes when I’m there alone, other customers ask to share my table. That was the case today.” I gave Eric a pensive look. He had such a motionless expression on his face now, he looked like a statue. That made me uncomfortable, so I kept talking. “I feel so sorry for that poor man. He’s lost his job, his wife, and everything else, and now he lives in a tent. He’ll be moving to Pennsylvania to live with a relative real soon.”
The same expression was still on Eric’s face. “You can’t believe everything those people tell you, Mom!” Mark howled.
“What difference does it make if they’re lying to me?” I asked with frustration and dismay, looking from Mark to Eric.
“You always told us not to talk to strangers, and there you were kicking back, up in a deli with one,” Mark pointed out.
“A homeless one at that,” Eric added.
“Oh, you two! Stop talking all that foolishness! Homeless people are humans just like the rest of us, and sometimes they need a little compassion and kindness.” I promptly changed the subject. “Mark, have you and Nita decided what you’re going to do for the holiday?”
He suddenly looked uneasy. “Um . . . I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but Nita’s going to spend the holidays in Seattle with her family. She’s leaving the week before Christmas.”
“She didn’t invite you to go with her?” Eric asked.
“She did, but I’m not ready to meet her folks yet.”
“I thought you really liked Nita,” I threw in.
“I do, but I don’t know if I’m ready to take that next step just yet,” he admitted.
“We don’t need any more information than that,” I told him, holding up my hand.
“Cool. I didn’t want to discuss my love life anyway,” Mark said sharply. “And, Mama, you don’t have to worry. I’m going to buy you a real cool Christmas gift, and a nice birthday gift.” He paused and looked me up and down. “So, Mama, when are you going to hang out with that homeless old dude again?” he snickered.
I gave him my you’re-getting-on-my-last-nerve look. “Boy, it isn’t any of your business. And I wish you’d stay off that subject.”
“I wish he would too,” Eric said firmly.
CHAPTER 16
I was glad Mark took the conversation on a detour. With his eyes glistening and excitement in his tone, he began to ramble about his job at the hardware store. “This real old woman came in last Tuesday looking for something to get rid of bedbugs. Mama, she reminded me of you.”
“Because she was so good-looking, huh?” I said smugly as I patted my hair and struck a pose.
“No. It was because she was about your age. Anyway, she was like, ‘I want something that won’t be too traumatic for the little creatures.’ And I’m like, ‘Lady, what could be more traumatic than you killing them?’ She realized how ridiculous what she’d said sounded and laughed for a whole minute.” Mark guffawed and then he stopped abruptly and fixed his gaze on me. “So, Mama, how often do you hang out with that dude?”
“What dude?” I asked dumbly. From the corner of my eye, I could see Eric peering at me with his eyes narrowed. “Oh, you mean Mr. Davenport?”
“MR.?” Mark and Eric boomed at the same time. Eric’s eyes got as big as saucers. “Is that what you call him?” he asked.
“Yes. That’s his name,” I replied.
“Why are you being so formal with a man that eats at a soup kitchen?” Eric wanted to know. I was not surprised to see a scowl on his face now.
“And sleeps in a tent?” Mark added.
“Those people feel bad enough. Being formal is our way of making them feel more dignified,” I said firmly. “They need all the respect and confidence they can get.”
“So you have a homeless ‘friend’ now, huh?” Eric asked, giving me a guarded look this time.
“Like I said, the only reason I shared a table with Mr. Davenport today was because there was no place else for him to sit.” I let out a loud breath and gave Mark a stern look. “I thought we were going to discuss something else.” He looked amused, Eric looked slightly frazzled. I was glad the landline on the end table rang a split second later. I grabbed it immediately. For the first time in my life, I was delighted to hear a telemarketer’s voice. I eagerly agreed to do a survey about the magazines I read. I purposely gave responses so long and involved, it took almost half an hour. By the time I answered the last question, Mark had left, and Eric had dozed off.
I decided to take a long hot bubble bath, something I liked to do at least once a week. Ten minutes after I’d stepped into the bathtub, the bathroom door eased open and Eric peeped in. “You want me to wash your back, baby?”
“Wash my back?” I couldn’t remember the last time he’d offered to help me bathe.
* * *
Charles didn’t visit Sister Cecile’s or Iola’s the rest of the week, or the following Monday and Tuesday. I assumed he’d landed a job, or that he had left for Pennsylvania. I went to Iola’s for my mid-afternoon break on Wednesday, with Gayle in tow yakking away about an upcoming date with one of her ex-husbands. When she spotted two friends she hadn’t seen in a while, they beckoned her to join them at another table. I got my coffee and started looking around for a place to sit. My breath caught in my throat when I saw Charles at the same table he and I had shared the last time. He was
reading a shabby paperback and sipping from a large cup of coffee. When he looked up and saw me, his face lit up like a fluorescent lightbulb and he set his cup aside. There were empty tables available, but Charles waved me over to his. I didn’t care if Mark’s friend or anybody else saw me sitting with him. I had never let other people’s opinions interfere with my actions, and I was not about to start now.
“Hello, Bea,” he greeted. “I was hoping I’d run into you again.”
“Hi, Charles.” I plopped down into the seat facing him and gave him the warmest smile I could manage. I did a double take when I saw the title of his book. “Are you enjoying The Power of Positive Thinking?” One thing I had to continually remind myself was that a lot of homeless people were very intelligent.
He nodded. “For the second time. I read it decades ago when I was still in the army. It helped me get through some rough times. I hope it’ll do the same thing for me again.”
“I read it a long time ago. It helped me get through some rough times too. Maybe I should read it again.”
“Well, if you’re going through a rough time now, maybe you should.”
“I’d love to, but I have no idea what I did with my copy. I have hundreds of books scattered throughout my house and garage, and I wouldn’t know where to begin to look for it. I guess I’ll have to buy another one.”
“No, you don’t. I get free books from the library whenever they have a book fair. When I finish this one, I can pass it on to you. I’m almost finished.”
“Thanks, Charles. I’d like that.”
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said. He closed his book and set it next to his coffee cup.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I was hoping I’d see you again soon.”
“We served grits again for breakfast this morning. I was surprised I didn’t see you.”
He shook his head. “I had a job helping a couple of coeds relocate from an apartment on Alcatraz to one closer to campus. They had to move out by today, and the dudes who were supposed to help them didn’t show up. They hired me and a couple of other day laborers.”
“Alcatraz? You helped somebody move from Alcatraz Avenue? That’s where I used to live before I got married.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s a major coincidence. I used to live on that street before I got married too,” he revealed.
“Hmmm. What an interesting coincidence.” I added cream and sugar to my coffee and took a long pull.
“Those young girls were so happy we could help them, they gave us a fifty percent tip. So now, I’m a few dollars closer to having enough to pay for my bus ticket and my travel expenses. It’s a three-day ride from here to Pennsylvania and I’ll have to buy food and other incidentals along the way.”
“So you really are going to leave California?”
“Yup. I don’t want to stay in this state any longer than I have to. There are too many painful memories here for me. The cousin I mentioned, he said he’s got a lot of work for me. Even though I don’t have any farm labor experience, he’s anxious to put me to work.”
“What kind of work will you be doing?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. If he tells me to shovel manure, I’ll ask him how fast,” he answered with a laugh.
“Are you going to live with your cousin?”
“I will, until I get a place of my own. He’s got a wife and six kids—four are teenagers—so it won’t be a picnic.” There was a tight smile on Charles’s face. “But I’m in no position to be choosey. Not if I want to rejoin the living. I’ve wasted enough time feeling sorry for myself.” He paused and laughed some more. “If my cousin knew I was eating at a soup kitchen, I’d never hear the end of it.”
“You’re doing what you have to do to survive. If you’re not hurting anybody, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. The important thing is for you to be happy again.”
“Oh, I will be. After what I’ve been through, whatever I end up with in Pennsylvania—a tacky apartment, a raggedy car, used clothing—I will be grateful for it.” Charles sniffed and gave me a pensive look. “Let me share something with you that means a lot to me.” I listened with interest as he continued. “One day when I was still in middle school, I pouted because the bicycle I had was not as new and fancy as my friends. My grandmother said something that made such an impression on me, I never pouted again about what I didn’t have.”
“What did she say?”
“She didn’t know who the author was, but some people claim it was a Helen Keller quote. ‘I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.’ That was Grandma’s way of telling me to be thankful for what I did have, instead of complaining about what I didn’t have.”
“Wow. That’s something to think about, I guess.”
“Bea, I don’t know you that well, but I know you have a lot going for you. Materialwise, I mean. I’ve seen you getting in and out of that shiny Lexus you always park close to Sister Cecile’s front door.”
“I know a car like mine looks out of place sitting in a soup kitchen’s parking lot,” I said with a sheepish grin, and my face burning. “But my husband makes a lot of money. That’s how I can afford to work for free.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, and you don’t have to apologize for being well-off. But tell me something, is there anything you’d like to change about your life?” Charles held up his hand and shook his head. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer that. Sometimes I don’t know when to shut up. I’m being too forward, and I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. But since you asked, yes, I would like to make a few changes in my life.”
“Who wouldn’t? I had a friend who’d been at the same job for ten years and hated it. He finally quit and found one he liked. After he made that change, he became a happy man. I think if a person is unhappy, he or she should make a change in his or her life.”
“I’ve been thinking about doing that,” I confessed. I couldn’t believe my ears. This was the first time I’d made such a bold statement out loud. I had never seriously thought about making any changes in my life until recently. I didn’t even know what I could do to help ease my boredom. As a mother, I had begun to feel obsolete. And it was no longer exciting to be the wife of a man who had become as dull and predictable as Eric. Once more, I wondered if a temporary separation would make a difference....
“Would you like to talk about it? If you do, I’d be glad to hear what it is. I appreciate you listening to me the other day. And Lord knows I dumped a load of rubbish on you.”
“I didn’t think of it as rubbish,” I muttered.
“You didn’t answer my question. If you want to talk about any of the changes you’d like to make in your life, I’d love to give you some feedback. Not that a sophisticated, intelligent woman like you would take advice from a bum.” He grinned.
“You’re not a bum. Don’t put yourself down like that,” I gently scolded.
“Maybe not to you. But that’s what a lot of people see when they look at me. I used to live in a four-bedroom, ranch-style house with three bathrooms in one of Berkeley’s finest neighborhoods. We had a two-car garage and orange trees on both sides of our huge backyard. Now I’m homeless and have to sneak into gas station bathrooms to wash up and shave. I haven’t had a real bath or shower since my luck ran out. That sounds like a bum to me.”
I ignored his last comment and decided to say something more uplifting. “I just thought of something. My husband is a very successful plumbing contractor and he’s always looking for good people to hire. If you go to work for him, he’d pay you a good salary. You’d have medical and dental coverage, and a few other benefits. And I know a lot of folks who could help you find a decent place to live.”
Charles held up his hand. “I was a draftsman. I don’t know the first thing about being a plumber. Besides, I don’t want to take any more charity. I feel bad enough about all the meals I eat at Sister Cecile’s.”
“I’m sorry. I hop
e I’m not making you feel any worse.”
“You’re not, and I need to keep my stupid comments to myself.”
“The answer to your question is yes.”
A confused look crossed Charles’s face. “What question?”
“You asked me about the changes I wanted to make. Well, one involves my husband. I need to do something about him before he drives me crazy.” If I hadn’t spoken my last sentence through clenched teeth, what I said wouldn’t have left such a bad taste in my mouth, or sounded so ominous.
Charles look so horrified, I thought he was going to run out the door.
CHAPTER 17
There were twice as many customers in the deli now. Charles glanced around. When he returned his attention to me, he narrowed his eyes. I couldn’t believe how hard and dark they looked now. “What’s wrong? Did I say something crazy?” I asked.
“You could say that.” He sat up straighter and shook his head. “Look, lady, you got the wrong idea about me.” He snorted and glanced around again before continuing in a raspy tone. “Jaywalking is the only crime I’ve ever committed.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh . . . my . . . God. Crime? You think I’m asking you to help me hurt my husband?”
“That’s what it sounds like to me.”
“W-w-wait a minute!” I stammered, shaking my head. “You’ve got the wrong idea about me too. You took what I said waaaay out of context! I would never hurt another human being, especially my husband.”
Charles reared back in his seat and gave me a skeptical look. “Oh, yeah? Exactly what did you mean then?”
I waved my hand and wobbled up out of my seat. “I’m out of here.”
“Wait! Please don’t go!” he wailed.
“This conversation is over. Have a nice day,” I said calmly.
“Bea, please sit back down. I . . . I am so sorry I misunderstood you. But please don’t give up on me. You don’t know how much you’ve done for me. Just talking to you brightens my day.” I couldn’t resist his pleading tone.
“Well . . . okay,” I muttered. I reluctantly sat back down. “You brighten mine too.”
