A Definite Maybe
Saturday, 1st August 2009
It was slowly turning into winter. The autumn leaves brushed past him as a strong breeze scooped them up, only to release them somewhere else. He tugged at the collar of his measly old jacket. Soon he would have to move on. The time had come for him to migrate like the swallows to a warmer climate. He loved the summer. One could sleep anywhere. A park bench, a sidewalk, under a bridge or under the starry sky. There only the crickets would disturb you and the twinkle of the stars. So unlike the undying noise and lights of the subways or bus stop ranks. With their shuffle of bussy feet and rhythmic periodic clammer, accompanied by the curios glances of those seemingly ignoring you.
No, here one could find solace and warmth at the porch of a kind lady. One could find peace for your soul. This has been his nightly porch for almost 6 months now. And every night he would wait across the street for her to come home. Then once the lights blinked out and the porch light came to live, her door closed to the outside world, he would unroll his sleeping bag and curl up on her front porch. Like a watch dog he would lie in front of her door.
Then at down as the first sounds could be heard from inside the house, he would arise meticulously roll up his sleeping bag and would go sit on the bus stop bench across her home. There he would wait anxiously to see the first glimpse of the most beautiful vision he would see the whole day. Like waiting for a sunrise he would wait in anticipation to see her emerge elegant, stylishly dressed even for her age. Her radiant face lighting up his life, his world, his heart. It almost appeared as if she was floating down the steps.
She would lock up everything and then put the cup of hot coffee with a packet of rusks next to the door. At first he did not touch them. He thought she might have forgotten her breakfast in a rush but only later he realized that she was leaving them there everyday for him. This unspoken arrangement became a ritual between them. A truce. He would not bother her, never be infront of her door as she arrived or left for work. He would sleep there. And she pretended she was not aware of his presence. But everyday she would leave the mug of hot coffee and rusks next to her door. Only to collect the empty mug every evening when she returned home. It was a small kindness but in turn he vowed to look after her. To keep an eye out for her, to protect her.
He was used to life on the street but she was an vulnerable princess. Sometimes he wondered if his presence strangely placed/ put her at ease, knowing there was some-one sleeping at her door. Where every burgular had to fall over the body parked at the front door and every salesman and passerby would think twice before approaching the front door where the shabby looking character had made his bed for the night. In some ways he before the door and the lady behind it, where the same, in other ways they were completely different.
Either way the mismatched pair found a strange companionship in each other and that’s why he would stay here. At least as long as he could, before frostbite would drive him away and force him to move on. She never looked his way but he was sure she knew it was him. The one in the worn brown jacket, across the street, appearing to be waiting for a bus ride. In truth he would walk to the park, to seed the birds, collect pennies from the pockets of passerbys, watch parents with their children and wonder how much money that couple just tossed into the pond while making their wish. No matter how hard you wish sometimes your wish for life just does not come true.
He returned from his thoughts and watched her leaving until she disappeared from sight. In the tall buildings with the suits, there she will spend her day. High up in the tower where princesses belong. He scratched his whiskery chin. He needed a shave. But first things first. He headed for his spot in the sun, with the coffee and morning news paper. The rusks he would save for later. He had lots to do today. In the park he dished up some additional change from the lovers wishing pond while keeping a watchful eye out for the park security. Believe it or not, people didn’t like him doing what he was doing right now; stealing others wishes or dreams. Although the cleaner of the pond would pocket the money either way. That didn’t seem to bother them. The truth was there was no place for a person like him. He was an outcast and a mismatch. A loner and a wonderer.
He stood there up to his knees in the freezing water, scanning his surrounds. But it was early and he could sweep the bottom of the pond in peace. Only the stray brave soul going for his frisk morning jog would pass him by occasionally or the dog and his owner enjoying their walk.
He counted the change. There was enough for a haircut and shave at the barbers shop. He smirked at his thought. How all the wishes of the lovers made his wish for the day come true. He had his stop to make at the Salvation army. There he would dig through the heaps of old donated clothes. Looking for pants to replace his one with holes, maybe some fancy shoes and a jacket. But Lady Luck was on his side. He found a smart shirt, dark pants and matching jacket in his size. Lastly pointy black designers shoes somebody had tossed but still looked brand new. None of the bums would choose this outfit because it would be unpractical and in all honestly the shoes just looked uncomfortable. But as far as he could see it, they just have to do. It wasn’t like had lots of options.
Here he enjoyed a hot shower and some soup before he changed into his new outfit and headed for the barber which eyes him suspiciously. He sat there mesmerized staring into the mirror as the man behind him stripped him layer for layer of that man from the street that he had become. With his new haircut, shaven and face washed he started to recognize the man in the mirror he used to be. Still handsome he looked older and more weary of life. He muttered a curt "Thank you" to the barber and fled the reflection of self. He stopped in the park to pick flowers but nobody minded him because he looked like a civilian again. Tonight he would wait on the porch. Tonight he would no longer be invisible. He waited until she entered her home that evening taking his empty mug in stride as if she has been practicing for months. Then he waited for the jerk to arrive. Placing himself squarely in front of the door on the last step flowers on his lap.
Square arrived, with his square face, his shiny car and his huge fists. That was not his name of course. He did not know his real name. All he knew was that he used those fists regularly in the wrong way on the kind lady inside and it would all end tonight. He would make sure of it. Square eyed him cautiously as he approached. He knew he had lost some weight since he started to live on the streets but he was still a worthy contender and his opponent was acutely aware of the fact. Still mister mean approached confidently. "May I help you?" he asked almost threateningly. "Yes, sir", he replied in a strong steady voice. "You may help me in never coming back here again. Then I don’t have to tear you limb from limb for raising your hand at a lady". The man took a step back, glancing at the flowers in his lap. He regained his composure and asked menacingly "Who are you?". "I’m the new boyfriend", he announced as he arose to match the man’s gaze.
For a moment an intense stare passed between the two men bathed in the light of the front porch. Square eyed him from head to toe and concluded from the look in the eyes of the man in front of him that he would not resign. He blasted "This is só not worth it!", then he hollered at the woman behind the door "You are só not worth it!", then stormed off, but stopped midstride. "You have weird shoes", he said as if in a last defense, then took off in a rage in his shiny car.
He was not sure how much he heard from inside but it was dead quiet. He stood there for a moment then started down the stairs when suddenly the door cracked open. "Wait", he heard a soft voice and turned. There she was half obscured by the shadow of the door. "Can I make you some coffee?" she asked. "I mean, you can drink it inside". There was a soft tremble in her voice, so she knew who he was then. "Sure", he smiled and he realized he hasn’t done that in a long time. They sat at her kitchen table. She clasped the mug between her fingers and lifted her eyes toward him.
"I am Angela", she introduced herself. "Michael", he nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Angela". She smiled shyly. "I hope you don’t mind me asking, but who are you?". Michael sipped his coffee deep in thought. Who was he really? He rubbed his forehead. "A few years back I used to be somebody, before life took everything away. I was a successful mechanical engineer with a beautiful wife and two daughters", he paused, then continued slowly. "One night while I was working a burglar broke into our house and assaulted my family".
His eyes became vacant, "murdered them", he said hoarsely. "After I lost everything of worth, after the funeral, I just started to walk and walk. Not before long people started treating me like a beggar, giving me bits and pieces of food and money. I guess I started to live like one because I have become one". Her eyes were sad as she bit her lower lip. "I’m sorry", she said, and he could hear she meant it. He took a sip from his warm coffee. "Soon I found myself wondering if any kindness existed in this world, and I guess I was looking for it, and found it one night unexpectedly in front of some stranger’s porch".
Her eyes glistened with tears, "Thank you", she whispered. Staring into her cup in an effort to avert his eyes. "No", he said firmly, "thank you. You gave me a porch to sleep in front of your door. If only someone like me was sleeping in front of my family’s door that night they might not have been murdered." A stray tear slipped past her check and he wiped it with his finger. "You made me feel like I could defend and protect again." She gave a weak smile. "And you made me realize there are those who protect and defend rather than hurt."
He reached for her hand and he gave it a squeeze. "Thanks for the coffee, but I have to go", he said. "But don’t bother making me coffee tomorrow", he said as they came outside. He knew he had lots to do before the next summer. "Where are you going?", she asked. "To a warmer climate", then added, "I have to attend to some unfinished business". He could not deny the smile he gave her was full of hope and warmth. A warmth that warmed him through and through. She bit her lip once more. "Goodbye Michael. Angela’s guardian angel." He smiled sheepishly. "Will I see you again?" she wanted to know. "Maybe", he said. But in his heart he knew it was a definite maybe.