Happened to meet Joseph when an older homeless guy, Wilbur, kindly offered me a tin metal hat spouting all kinds of shit about government conspiracies and microchips inserted into the brains of unknowing citizens. According to Wilbur, if you want to scramble the chip, you gotta wear the hat. Joseph came out of his alley, wearing one of those stupid fucking hats, and looked to me, smirking. “Sorry about that. Wilbur,” he called to the crazy dude, “come on down here and tell me one of your stories.”
But Wilbur had other ideas. “No. I’m making a friend, Joe.”
Joseph looked at me with pity and amusement. “No gettin’ away now. He’s claimed you.”
It had been a long time since I had spoken to anyone. The company—for once—was welcome. Kept me from thoughts I shouldn’t have been thinking anyway. “No problem.”
Don’t ask me how it happened, but not five minutes later, down Joseph’s alley, while we wore tin foil hats, Wilbur told us about the time he won a hand of cards against Elvis.
After Wilbur told us about the time he dated Marilyn Monroe, he called it a night, and I was left with Joseph. I could tell immediately that this guy was a good guy. Gave off a distinct vibe that yelled safe. I introduced myself, and he shook my hand, nice and firm. And for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why the fuck this dude was homeless. I pried, but all he told me was, “I’m better off here than I was working.”
We shot the breeze for an hour then I took off. Joe offered his couch for the night if I had nowhere to stay, and although I had nowhere else to go, I declined.
Now, a week later, here I sit on the moldy-smelling couch, playing puff-puff-pass with my new friend.
Comfortable in the silence, we watch people walk by in a rush. They’re always in a rush. Five years ago, I was in a rush. Five years ago, I was one of those people. Now, I’ve got all the time in the world.
Looking up at the starless night sky, I gaze over at my companion. “You ever miss it?”
Joseph doesn’t need me to break it down. He gets me. “No.”
“Not even a bit?” I push. “You don’t miss having a nice car and a roof over your head? You don’t miss women?”
“Okay, I miss women.” He exaggeratedly shakes his head sadly and sighs. “No chick wants to fuck a homeless guy. It’s just not sexy.”
High as a fucking kite, I laugh. I laugh because it’s true. I laugh and laugh till the memory of her smiling face makes my gut churn. Inhaling the smoke, I then exhale and admit out loud for the first time ever, “I miss my woman. And my son. I’d give anything to be with them tonight.”
Joe plucks the blunt from my fingers, inhaling. As he exhales, he prods, “And that’s not an option?”
I shake my head, looking out into the street. “Not until I take care of business.”
A heavy hand slaps me on the back. “Then take care of business, bro.”
Leaning back on the ripped brown sofa, I place my hands behind my head, close my eyes and sigh. “Yeah. Working on it.”
I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep till I woke up on Joe’s couch with Joe nowhere to be found. I felt like an asshole taking his bed from him, forcing him somewhere else for the night.
The night before, I’d said too much. I wouldn’t be seeing Joseph again. Ever.
As I stood and stretched, I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out a bundle of notes and put it under the trash can, where I’d seen Joe hide the little money he had. It was the least I could do to offer him a bit of comfort and know he’ll be eating well, even if for a little while.
I placed my hands in my pockets and walked out of the alley.
Joe had good things coming his way.
I could feel it.
***
There aren’t many things I appreciate in life. Strange, I know, coming from my background. Guess I always felt the things I did appreciate could go at any time. No appreciation equals no feelings of loss when that thing went away. And now, in this world I created around myself, I don’t have a lot of friends, but the friends I have, I appreciate.
I walk up the steps to the front door of the house. I can hear talking and laughing coming from the inside.
Nothing fancy. White picket fence, dirty SUV in the drive, a small garden filled with white flowers.
It’s nice.
Nothing I would pick for myself, but nice.
Raising a hand, I knock. Not a minute later, a pretty, slim redhead answers the door. She has bright green eyes and a smatter of light freckles across her nose. Her smile falls as she takes in my tattooed hands and exposed neck. Her haunches rise as she asks a cautious, “Can I help you?”
I mentally smile. She doesn’t like me. “I was in the neighborhood. I’m looking for Nox. You must be Lily.”
A look of confusion crosses her face. “That’s right. And you are?”
“I’m Twitch.”
Her smile returns full force and, before I know it, she launches herself at me. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I’ve heard so much about you. Nice to meet you!”
And I just stand here, body stiff, face twisted into a grimace. I don’t know what to do here. I raise my hand to pat her shoulder awkwardly. When I hear chuckles from the doorway, I see Nox leaning against the frame, grinning wide. “She’s a hugger.”
I glare.
No shit, Captain Obvious.
I pat her again. “Nice to meet you, Lily.” Please let go of me.
Pulling back, I’m thrown by the transformation a simple smile does to her face. She’s beautiful. Not Lexi beautiful, but still. Placing her hand in the crook of my arm, she tugs me into the house. “It’s not often I get to meet Nox’s friends. You could say I get a little excited.” Looking Nox in the face, she mock whispers out the side of her mouth to me, “I need ammo. If you got any humiliating stories about my husband, I need to know them, like, yesterday.”
My lips twitch. “I’ll see what I can do. I might have one or two stored away.”
Nox shakes his head at the woman by my side. She all but drags me into the kitchen. “I’ll pay you handsomely, of course. Say, a nice home-cooked dinner and dessert?”
As if on cue, my stomach growls. I turn to Nox. “Can she cook?”
Nox pats his stomach, obviously still glowing in the memory of his last cooked meal. “She can cook.”
I look down at Lily, wondering how much I can get out of this. “You throw in a batch homemade cookies, and we got a deal.”
Her eyes narrow at me a moment before she nods. “Peanut butter chocolate chip okay?”
I turn to Nox. “Dude.”
He sighs dreamily, looking down at his wife lovingly. “I know.”
Lily pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and ushers me into a seated position. “What are you having? Coffee, juice, soda?”
“A soda would be great, thanks.”
Nox sits opposite me. “Never thought I’d see you down my neck of the woods.”
I shoot him a look. “Need to talk.”
His eyes narrow at the look on my face. “You came all the way from Australia to talk? A phone call would’ve been a fuckload cheaper, T.”
My eyes shoot back to Lily. I turn back to Nox and whisper, “Need help.”
Nox rubs a hand over his face. “I’m out. I’m a family man now. I’m a father. I drive my kids to school. I’m a part of the PTA. Fuck, I volunteer, Twitch. Whatever you need, I can’t get you.”
Damn. That fucking blows.
I can’t fault the man. If I were in his position, I’d be doing exactly what he is. Enjoying my family.
Lily walks over, glasses of soda in hand. “So, you’re in the neighborhood. Where are you staying?”
I scratch at my temple. “Uh, I hadn’t gotten that far yet.”
Lily looks over at Nox. They have a silent conversation. She looks back to me and smiles. “Well, that settles it. You’ll stay here with us.” I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off with a swipe of her
hand. “No. I insist.” Standing, she walks over to the living room, picking up toys and books as she goes. “It’s not much, but we have a spare room with a single bed in it. It’s either that or the fold out. And you don’t want the fold out.” She turns to me and makes a face. “It smells like sour milk.”
I look over at Nox. “Dude.”
He gently shakes his head, smiling at the ridiculous face his wife is making. “I know.”
Although I declined more times than I can count, Nox wouldn’t accept it. So I placed my backpack in the spare room and promised I’d only stay the night. While Lily started on dinner, Nox and I went out the back and talked.
Handing me a beer, we sat on the deck, staring out into the yard. Sipping my beer, I heard his chair creak as he adjusted himself. He was rubbing at his thigh, a pained expression gripping him. I jerked my chin toward his leg. “Still hurts?”
Massaging his thigh, digging his thumbs deep into the skin, he replies, “Yeah. It’s not quite pain though. It’s something else. Sometimes I can still feel my leg.” Lifting his pants leg, I take in the aluminum prosthetic.