by Chad Zunker
The old guy suddenly opened his eyes, moaned a bit.
“Hey, man,” David said, kneeling again. “You okay?”
Another moan as the guy shifted. The man’s eyes were open but unfocused. He was dazed and confused. The old man tried to push himself up off the concrete, but then his eyes rolled back, and he slumped over to the side. David caught him before he fell straight on his face. The guy seemed to be out cold again. Steadying the man, David got a much better look at the back of his head. There was definitely a gash, but overall, it didn’t look too bad. It didn’t necessarily warrant a trip to the ER.
The guy woke up again, tried to get up but failed. Reaching down, David wrapped the man’s arm around his shoulder and then lifted him up off the pavement. With his other hand, he grabbed the guy’s waist and held on to him, like a teammate helping an injured friend gradually hobble off the football field.
“Come on, buddy,” David said.
Making their way out onto the main sidewalk, David guided the man two blocks over toward the front entrance of the Austonian. He wondered what kind of stares he would get as he dragged a dirty, bleeding homeless guy through the building’s pristine lobby. He was about to find out. Pushing through the glass doors, he recognized Josh, the twentysomething concierge behind the front counter. Josh gave him a curious look.
“Everything okay, sir?” Josh asked.
“Yep. Things just got a little wild tonight.”
David kept moving before Josh could say anything else. He hit an elevator button, waited, looked at the guy he held in his arms again. The man’s head hung down in front of him. He looked pretty much out of it. When the elevator doors parted, a group of pretty girls dressed for the bars stepped out, then stopped and glared at David and his friend.
“Evening, ladies,” David said, smiling, pushing right past them.
He quickly pressed a button, watched the doors shut. He was making quite the impression around the building. Minutes later, they were finally inside his swank condo on the thirty-third floor. The homeless guy moaned and shifted every few seconds. David dragged him into his bedroom, grabbed several towels from his bathroom, tried to spread them out on his new plush bed, then carefully lowered the old guy on top.
Sunk into the cushion of the bed, the guy was quickly out again. Turning on a bedside lamp, David stood over the man. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to sort out what the hell to do next. From the bathroom, he grabbed a hand towel, soaked it in warm water from the sink, and then returned to the man. He turned the man’s head to get a better look at his wound. Fortunately, it had stopped bleeding, which was good, but there was still a lot of sticky blood—along with all sorts of other dirt and street grime. David began dabbing at the man’s head with the wet towel and tried to clean up the wound. He completely soiled one towel and grabbed a fresh one to finish the job.
Beneath the sink, he found a first-aid kit. Opening it, he pulled out a roll of gauze, some medical tape, and a tube of antibiotic ointment. Upon close inspection of the wound, he guessed the guy was suffering more from concussion symptoms than the actual gash, as it really wasn’t too bad. David had suffered two concussions back in his football days. A serious hit to the head for an old man like this could put him out for a good bit. David did his best amateur medic job and patched up the wound with the gauze and medical tape.
Standing over the bed again, David took another close look at the man’s weathered face. There were deep lines and wrinkles, probably from being out in the direct sun too much. He noticed several scars all over the man’s balding head and one long one running behind his left ear down his neck. The guy had really been through it in his lifetime. Beneath the dirty black trench coat, the old guy wore a worn-out Texas Longhorns T-shirt. The pants were dark-blue Dockers and had holes in both knees. The work boots were in decent shape.
David wondered if the man had any ID on him. Who was this guy? Why had he put his own life on the line in the alley? The man had started to snore, so David didn’t worry too much about waking him. He began searching his coat pockets. He found an assortment of goods from a life most likely on the streets. The trench-coat pockets held a bottle of water, a roll of napkins, a granola bar, an apple, a battered John Grisham novel, and what looked like a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich in a resealable bag. In one pants pocket, he found a few wadded-up dollar bills and a collection of spare change. In the other pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a small pocket-size Bible. David didn’t find any ID on the man. He also didn’t find any remnants of drugs or alcohol, which surprised him.
Returning the items, David tried to help the guy get as comfortable as possible. He carefully pulled off the work boots, revealing the dirtiest pair of white socks he’d ever seen in his life. About half the toes poked out of holes, all of them looking battered and bruised. One toenail was red with pus and looked like it was badly infected. David practically gagged.
Then David noticed a bulge under the top of one of his socks. Pulling the sock down, he discovered an envelope with a black X on the outside. When he opened the envelope to peek inside, David was stunned. There was a lot of cash. Brand-new $100 bills. He pulled the cash out and quickly skimmed it. David cursed, stared back at the face of the old guy. Thousands of dollars? What the hell? Had the guy robbed a bank?
Returning the cash to the envelope, David again stuffed it under the man’s dirty sock where he’d found it. He turned off the bedside lamp and left the bedroom. In the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of cold water and quickly downed it, tried to collect himself. Again, he shook his head, couldn’t believe all that had transpired that evening.
Checking his watch, David quickly worked up a plan. He decided he’d hang out on the sofa in the living room for a few hours and allow the guy to sleep it off in the bedroom. Then he’d get him up, let him shower if he wanted, maybe give him some new clothes, wish him the best, and send him on his merry way. David could still be at H&K by six the next morning.
The plan failed when he couldn’t wake the guy. David tried at two in the morning. A few nudges on the man’s shoulder, a few “Hey, buddy, come on, wake up already,” but the guy wouldn’t stir. He just kept snoring away like a freight train. David tried again at three. Nothing. He tried again at four, this time with full-volume talking. No luck. David didn’t quite have the heart to shake him awake. So from four to seven, David lay on his sofa—one clearly designed more for its modern look than comfort—and basically stared at his bedroom doorway, waiting for the guy to appear.
At seven, David gave up. He got himself cleaned up and dressed for the office. Hell, the old guy could sleep it off all day if he wanted. Just as long as he was gone when David returned. He grabbed a notepad and pen and scribbled a brief note that he left on the bed next to the man. David wrote the last sentence as his way of implying he didn’t expect to see the homeless guy still sitting in his condo when he got back.
Friend, thank you for what you did for me last night. Please feel free to use the shower. You’ll find some extra clothes by the sink, if you want them, including several pairs of brand-new socks. Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen. Good luck to you. —David
TWELVE
Around noon, David called the Austonian and asked the concierge on duty if she happened to have seen an older man wearing a black trench coat and work boots carrying a big flat-screen TV out of the building. The concierge had not and seemed confused by his question. David reassured her everything was fine. But he wondered if the old man was still there.
Early that evening, David decided to pop in to his condo just to check on things. He half expected to find his new homeless friend plopped down on the sofa, a bag of chips in his lap, SportsCenter on the TV. But when David walked into the condo, the old man was gone. The bed was made up perfectly, not a wrinkle in it. Peeking into the bathroom, David found everything nice and tidy, even more so than when he’d left for work that morning. David noticed a towel had been folded neatl
y on the bathroom counter—the guy had at least showered. The socks were also gone. Then David found a message from the guy scribbled beneath the note David had left for him that morning.
Thank you for the shower and the clothes. I’ll be at Caroline’s tonight. How about I buy you a meal? —Benny
Caroline’s was a popular dining spot a few blocks from the firm. After walking over to the restaurant, David spotted Benny at a table near the back all by himself. It was a weeknight, and the restaurant was only a third full. The ragged old man wore the same black trench coat, same work boots. David wondered if he was wearing the new socks he’d given him. He watched as a waitress came over, gave Benny a glass of soda, patted him warmly on the back, and seemed genuinely happy to see him. David thought about what to talk about with the man. It wasn’t like they had a lot in common. Where’d you learn a choke hold like the one you performed in the alley? Where the hell did all that cash in your sock come from?
Benny was reading something at the table—it looked like the small Bible he’d had in his coat pocket. The waitress delivered a sandwich and some fries to him. She again patted Benny on the back. David figured the man must be a welcome regular in the place, which he found interesting.
Feeling like a coward, David finally walked over to the old man’s table.
“Benny?” he said.
Benny looked up from his food, his eyes softening as he seemed to recognize David. “Well, well, if it’s not the man who patched me up and got me back on my feet.” He smiled wide, showing tobacco-stained teeth.
“How’s your head?” David asked.
“Good as new, thanks to you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Please join me. Sit down,” Benny offered. “I’m glad you came.”
David slid into the booth across from him.
“You a doctor?” Benny asked, taking a bite of his chicken sandwich.
“Hardly. A lawyer. My name’s David.”
“Like the shepherd,” Benny replied.
David tilted his head. “Sorry?”
Benny smiled again, pointed at the small Bible sitting on the table. “From the Scriptures. David was a shepherd. First, with the animals. Eventually, he was a shepherd to God’s people. You have a distinguished name, my friend.”
David shrugged. “I guess. But I’m no shepherd.”
“Not yet, maybe.” Another smile. The man smiled a lot. “I wanted to properly thank you for letting me stay with you last night.”
“No, it’s me who should be thanking you, Benny.”
“You already did, Shep. That was the best shower I’ve had in months.”
“A shower is hardly proper thanks for a man who saved my life.”
Benny waved it off. “Nah, I was just in the right place at the right time.”
“Why’d you do it, anyway? You could’ve been killed yourself.”
Benny shrugged again. “At least I’d have died doing the right thing, Shep.”
David noted it was the second time Benny had called him Shep. He figured it was because of the whole shepherd in the Bible thing. Didn’t matter much to David. After saving his life, the old man could call him whatever the hell he wanted.
“I’m serious, Benny. How can I help you? Do you need something?”
David figured the invite to dinner was because the guy might want more financial help. And David was willing to give it—within reason.
“I have everything I need. But if you’re going to keep carrying on, how about you buy me a piece of blueberry cobbler from Rosie over there, and we’ll call it even. Deal?”
David grinned. There was something about the old man and that perpetually crooked-toothed smile. Benny either held the keys to peace, or he was as crazy as a loon. David wasn’t sure yet. He was guessing the latter.
“Blueberry cobbler, huh? You got it. I’ll have a piece, too.”
They ordered two pieces of blueberry cobbler with vanilla ice cream from the waitress, who quickly brought their dessert back over to the table. Both David and the old man grabbed spoons and went to work.
“So . . . you’re a lawyer?” Benny asked.
“Yeah, for about a month now.”
“You like being a lawyer?”
David thought about it for a second. “I’m not really sure yet, to be honest.”
“You keep people out of jail?”
“No, not really. My firm defends big companies who are getting sued by other big companies.”
“Sounds important.”
David shrugged. “It pays the bills.”
“Ha! I’d say it does a lot more than that. You got yourself a really nice place, my friend. I didn’t even know they made beds that comfortable. Almost didn’t want to go home after staying there with you.”
“You have a home, Benny?” David asked, just kind of stupidly blurting it out.
Benny frowned. “You think I’m homeless or something, Shep?”
“I didn’t mean it that way . . . sorry . . . I just . . .”
Benny laughed it off. “I’m messing with you, son. It’s okay, I know how I look.” He wiped cobbler from his mouth with a napkin. “Sure, I got my own place. Can’t exactly get my mail delivered there or watch satellite TV, I’ll admit, but it’s a safe place to go each night and put my head on a pillow. Which should never be taken for granted.”
David thought about the months he’d slept in a van as a kid. “You’re right.”
Benny set his fork down, smiled wide. “Hey, you want to see it?”
“Your home?”
Benny shrugged. “Sure, why not? I figure you invited me into your home, showed me some real good hospitality. The least I could do is return the favor.”
David pondered the invite for a moment. He really needed to get back to the office; he had so much work to do. His desk was piled high with papers. However, the thought of that felt really depressing at the moment. Tonight, he’d rather go check out Benny’s cardboard box under some bridge—or wherever the man stayed each night.
“Sure, Benny, let’s go see your home.”
THIRTEEN
When Benny mentioned they’d need to catch several different city bus routes that would eventually get them over to his place on the east side of town, David offered to drive them instead. He walked back to the Austonian, retrieved his SUV, and then picked up Benny along the curb outside Caroline’s. Once inside the Range Rover, Benny stared wide-eyed at the fancy computer screen in the dash.
“You know what all these buttons do?” Benny asked.
“Not really.”
“Looks like a fighter-jet cockpit. They give out these to all the new lawyers over at Hunter and Kellerman?”
David cocked his head. Had he mentioned the name of his firm to the old man?
“Something like that,” David said.
“Then I might have to go back to law school.” Benny cackled.
David smiled. “Stanford could use a guy like you.”
“That where they taught you how to be a lawyer?”
David thought of the blue pills. “Yes, among other things.”
David crossed under I-35 and headed into East Austin, where they drove through a unique mix of crack alleys and urban gentrification, depending on the block. Benny pointed him this way and that as they navigated farther away from downtown.
“What about you, Benny? You go to school?”
“School of hard knocks. Spent eight years in the navy.”
“That where they taught you to put a choke hold on a man?”
Benny looked over, nodded. “Yes, sir, among other things.”
Taking a left down a side street, David drove them into a low-income neighborhood with dimly lit streets filled with small, mismatched old houses. Most of them looked like they were on their last legs. They drove past some rough-looking people who were hanging out on porches and in driveways. Men who looked a lot like the dragon dude who’d pulled the knife on him in the alley. The Range Rover got some serious
stares. Fidgeting in his leather seat, David hoped the old man knew where the hell he was taking him. He didn’t feel like getting himself shot on this journey. He looked over and noticed Benny in the passenger seat kind of mumbling to himself as he gazed out the window. Crazy as a loon, David thought.
“Right over there, Shep,” Benny said, pointing up ahead. “You can park on the curb.”
David eased his car to the curb in front of a decent-looking one-story white brick house that sat at the end of the street next to a thick set of woods. David studied the house, quite surprised. The yard was mowed and well maintained. There was a front porch with two rockers. It was not at all what he expected.
“This is nice, Benny,” David said, staring at the house.
Benny laughed. “We’re not quite there yet. Come on. We walk from here.”
David turned, brow wrinkled. Walk? The street had dead-ended. There were no more houses. He got out of the Range Rover, made sure it was locked, and joined Benny in the middle of the street. Benny said to follow him closely. They walked to the end of the street and stepped into the tall grass headed toward the woods. David wasn’t sure what to think. Benny lived in the woods? David didn’t say anything, just kept following the mumbling old man.
Pulling out a small flashlight from his coat pocket, Benny found a narrow walking trail. As they began stepping through the first set of trees, it quickly became dark along the trail, although Benny seemed to know exactly where he was going. He moved at a steady pace, in and around trees, down a small hill, up another, and through a brief clearing.
As instructed, David stayed close to the old man—although he began to wonder if he was about to be led out to the middle of nowhere and be cut into a hundred pieces. This was creepy as hell. Still wearing his dress slacks, button-down shirt, and shiny black shoes, David wasn’t exactly dressed for a night of hiking through the woods. He wanted to turn the hell around but didn’t have the heart to tell Benny, since the old man seemed excited. Benny slowed when a noise pushed through some branches up ahead. David felt his pulse quicken. They’d probably already traveled more than a hundred yards. What the hell was out here? Using his flashlight, Benny plodded forward again along the trail.
