The Homeless (novel excerpt - Spanish Soap Operas)

 

    Almost back to her apartment, Jean Marie discovered that Paige was more street smart than she sometimes gave her credit for. She had just departed the subway station when she spotted two figures ahead under a streetlight, the first one with his hands jutting out aggressively toward the second, who bowed his head and hurried away.

Homeless guy, she thought with a heavy-heart, knowing intuitively that she would be approached next. It had begun to seem that the homeless were everywhere in the city, and they all seemed to find her.  The poor will be with you always, she remembered from Bible School.  She never had thought it would be literally true.

    Not long after she’d moved to New York and discovered the extent of the homeless problem, Jean Marie developed strategies to deal with the begging and the occasional threats.  Otherwise, it was just too draining, not to mention time-consuming. She saw early on that many of the homeless were not all “with it”, not quite right in the head, and it was useless to reason with them. It was also foolish and dangerous to stop every time, and dig out money from her pocket-book. Instead, she left a supply of loose change in an outside pocket of her pants or her jacket that she could just grab and drop quickly into the person’s hands or cup as she passed by.

 

The ones who looked agitated, she went out of her way to avoid, sometimes way out of the way. Those who looked capable, or perhaps high, she tried to ignore. Women with children she helped, only because there was no way to know if the need was real or not. There were plenty of scams, she always heard, but how could anyone tell?

The young man, wearing only a shirt and loose scarf wrapped like hers around the chin, turned from the woman ahead of her, who had waved him off.  He had caught sight of Jean Marie.  He looked harmless enough,and not all that destitute. A white guy with his arms clasped about him, and he was shivering.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said politely with a slight accent. British, maybe?  “May I just ask the price of a subway token?  I’m stranded and need to get home.”

The voice was familiar, but the words were even more  familiar. She’d met this guy before, using the exact same line.  He could not be caught twice without subway fare in the same week, in the same neighborhood. That was just dumb.

“Hey!” she said, her voice rising. “I gave you money last time!”

The jig was up. After a quick glare, he started to walk quickly away.

“That’s not right,” she said after him, unable to control the indignation. “You’re scamming people.”

“Cunt,” he said, turning back. Her mouth opened in surprised shock.  She felt like following him, warning people of what he was doing. Then she thought about it, pictured it in her head, how ridiculous and crazy she would look.

            And she was too tired. She only wanted to get home and change into her pajamas. All she wantednow was bed and a book.  As she approached the apartment building, she took a deep breath: home.  It wasn’t much, but at least she had one.  That was the other thing about all those homeless people; they had a way of reminding her of what happened when things didn’t work out.
 

What did you think of this article?




Trackbacks
  • No trackbacks exist for this post.
Comments
  • No comments exist for this post.
Leave a comment

Submitted comments are subject to moderation before being displayed.

 Name (required)

 Email (will not be published) (required)

 Website

Your comment is 0 characters limited to 3000 characters.