Homeless short story

Streets of Rain

I felt the soft pitter-patter of rain splashing across my face, drawing me out of my deep slumber and awakening my complexion with that fresh cool feeling. I looked around only to survey the various street corners with wanderers such as myself huddled together for warmth. Trash cans with flickering flames bursting from them mingled with the endless mountain of signs with different excuses and pleas for money that my eyes scanned in disgust. Keep your coins, I want CHANGE. This was the message crudely scrawled across the piece of cardboard I was holding, waiting for people to stop and stare. And they did just that. This experiment for my senior thesis had become a much bigger project than I anticipated, but I had taken that challenge and tried to embrace it the best I could. That was- until she showed up.
As I wandered to my little nook underneath the viaduct I felt a pair of eyes fixed on my every move. I was somewhat used to this feeling now, but I could tell there was something different as I slowly turned and met this stranger’s gaze. It was as if her eyes pierced to my very core, and I found myself slump until my knees were guarding me from her, my behind glued to the cold concrete as I held my sign in front of me as a shield. The woman who had now started to approach me was at least twice my age and dressed in a snow white wool coat complete with double breasted buttons and black slacks to finish the ensemble; with eyes of deep blue similar to my own and shock blonde hair. I kept my line of sight fixed on the ground in front of me until I could see the shiny black of her patent leather pumps only inches away from my own Converse tennis shoes worn with dust and grime.
“Excuse me,” she said in an almost musical voice that had such warmth it could melt a glacier. I finally relented and looked up at her as she continued, “Is there any way I could maybe- buy you something to eat?”
This is a new one, I thought as I sprang to my feet. Usually people just try to throw coins at me to ease my forged plight. But this woman seems as if she really wants to help me… I nodded eagerly at her offer and followed her to the nearest deli.
On our way I decided to inquire further into this woman’s intentions as I asked, “So, why exactly would you want to buy me food? Not that I’m complaining, I just…”
“Oh, well- I figure this will actually help you more than just trying to fix your problem with a chunk of chump change. And at least I know that the money would go to a good cause this way,” she said before I could finish my line of thinking. I found this a little strange as she seemed like the kind of woman that would decide to throw money at a situation to fix it; as she obviously had quite a bit of this commodity. But I tried to shrug off these nagging thoughts as we strolled along.
As we entered the gleaming deli she told me to pick whatever I so choose and she would cover it all. My churning stomach made my hands quite greedy as I grabbed two whole sandwiches, several bags of chips, a Snapple iced tea and some M&Ms. I saw a slight smile as warm as her voice steal across her face as she surveyed my selections before she handed the cashier a gilded VISA card in addition to requesting a sandwich and bowl of soup. After the precious goods were paid for I snuck them into my purse that I had recently fashioned out of hemp. I felt that stare upon me again until I met the woman’s gaze once more. I heartily thanked her before she asked me in a more shaky tone than I had heard previously if I would perhaps join her for lunch. Again, I found this request quite odd, as most people I had encountered tended to want to remain distant from me and my problems rather than become more involved. I paused for a few seconds before sitting in the red cushioned chair across from her.
“So, how, may I ask, did you end up here?” she asked with a voice of great concern.
I stopped shoving sandwich in my face long enough to look up at her with my ocean colored eyes in utter silence, trying to indicate that this line of inquiry could go no further.
“Alright, I guess I should start with my story before I start asking yours,” she said with another temperate smile that made my spine tingle. “My name is Kathy,” she said as she held out her hand waiting for mine to meet it in a firm grasp.
I met this customary salutation with my outstretched arm as I spurted, “I’m Jen.”
I saw her face freeze in a look I could not quite discern as to the meaning as she said, “Nice to meet you” in an almost other-worldly tone. I quickly pulled my hand away from hers and continued to stuff my face with bread and turkey. “Sorry,” she said as she shook her head, aware of the fact that she had started to creep me out.
“So what did you used to do before you came to be on the streets, Jen?” she asked me.
“I was a student at Stanford,” I said as the trained response came from my mouth.
“Really? What happened?” she asked.
“I… well, ya know- I lost my college loans, I couldn’t find a job, and my father wasn’t about to help me out, so I just came back here and tried to stay with friends until my money completely ran out. I’m just down on my luck though, I’m sure things will look up soon,” I said; feeling horrible for the first time in a long while for lying to a complete stranger who was just trying to help. But I couldn’t exactly explain how I was just trying to study why people stayed on the streets for so long and how much money they make by simply pan-handling as research for my college thesis. People who were trying to help me wouldn’t really take to the idea that I was one of the people who were just pulling a con job like half of the people I had come to know through my experiences. I could see that bright twinkle in Kathy’s eyes start to fade with the words, “my father wasn’t about to help me out” until she was staring into her soup bowl at her own reflection.
This time it was my turn to ask the questions, so I inquired once more, “So why are you so interested?”
I saw her hesitate and take a very deep breath before plunging into her explanation. “Well, the main reason I wanted to help you is you remind me of someone. Someone I lost long ago… she was very dear to me.” My stomach began to churn more vigorously at this statement, but in twisting way that had nothing to do with hunger.
“It was my own fault—” she continued, “her father took her away from me; and for good reason. I was a horrible mother to her; almost got our whole family thrown out onto the streets. So her father got full custody, and I decided to sober up. But by the time I was clean and had a respectable job again- her and my ex-husband had completely vanished. I had no way of finding them- she was left without a mother and I was robbed of my only daughter. Anyway, I have been looking for her ever since I was able to take care of myself; and you just look so much like I always imagined her looking at her age. Seeing you there on the streets I just…” her voice trailed off as my eyes were now forcibly fixed on her face as I realized why this woman had become so invested in my plight.
A teardrop rolled down her cheek as I kept staring at her with gaping mouth for a full two minutes before swiftly standing up, knocking the table on my way up thereby splashing her tomato soup onto her pristine coat. “You—” I stammered as I raised a shaking finger at her lowered head. “You think you can just… Oh my God… You can’t be…” the wrath I had building inside of me all these years suddenly came exploding out, severely impairing my ability to string words together as I stared at the woman I had no memory of except by way of stories from my father. “Just because you spit me out of your uterus and decided to finally get it together enough to try to make it all better after years of being a complete lush does not give you any right to act like my mother!” I shouted at her in the most maniacal tone I could muster. The thousands of speeches I had prepared in the nineteen years I had been waiting for this moment completely failed me as my Good Samaritan continued to bawl in a crumpled mess in front of me. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that this charming, beautiful, successful woman was the same deranged drunk that my father had always described my mother as. But there was no mistaking it as her trembling hands pulled from a pocket in her Coach purse, a picture of me as an infant that was the same one that my father had displayed in his wallet. I stumbled backwards a little ways before sprinting as fast as my legs would carry me from that store.
I finally came to a stop under an awning for shelter from the sheets of rain soaking my emaciated frame. I tried to breathe, but no air would fill my lungs fast enough in the gasping heaves that emanated from my chest. My thoughts were so scattered that I didn’t even notice one of my homeless friends, Annie, approach and throw her warm, dry jacket around my shoulders. I jumped at this gesture, but turned and threw my arms around her as I realized who had just helped me. She patted my back as I shook like a leaf with sobs that completely took over my body. How could this happen? I thought through the cloud of sorrow that had overwhelmed me. Never again… I hope I don’t ever see her again… I concluded as the rhythm of the rain pulsed through me, making me feel secure in the dingy streets of Seattle that I had finally made my home.