IBE The Days Of WanderingAddendum Houston
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I sat and I thought of the words I said to Jenny those many years ago.
“Yesterday is another country, I can’t go back. Tomorrow is never assured and may not happen. Today is here and we should live all dreams like it is our last chance to live them.” Words to some extent I live by.
Yesterday is another country- and the borders are closed. It is an arrogance of the transient. Only that which I chose to bring with me into today comes with me. I don’t need to worry about the people who are hurt; they only can contact me if I choose to give them the ability to do so. Otherwise, John is gone.
Tomorrow is never assured and may not happen. Existing purely as myself, tomorrow either exists for me, or it doesn’t exist. When a normal man exits the world, the world, to a small extent, goes on mourning him. Remembering him. As a prayer I heard at the death of Suzie’s grandfather put it:
So long as we live, they, too, shall live, for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.
You are not truly lost until the last person who remembers you forgets you. Since I am a hobo and nobody knows who I am, when I pass, I dill be dead, lost, and gone. They will not remember me. So the future only exists if I will exist in it.
Today is here, and we should live all dreams like it is our last chance to live them. Because my dream is all that I have, and my world won’t carry on without me. So I should do as I feel, so long as I don’t hurt those who don’t deserve it.
I mean it’s really an arrogant way to look at things, but it is the way I have looked at them. Except their are people who remember me. And some of them I have given passports into this day’s country. A select few. But most likely even they won’t know the day I die.
The next morning, Jake and I ate breakfast at a local choke-and-puke.
“That really was a hell of a story, Johnny,” he told me, “Do y’all miss her?”
“Everyday I think of her, Jake,” I said, “I know its hard to understand the urge to run away from anything because you lost the one thing that really meant something to you once. I know in my head that I’m just creating a self-fulfilling prophecy, but my heart never listens.”
“That must be hard, yer heart fightin’ yer haid like thet,” Jake admitted.
“You have no idea, Jake.”
We got up from breakfast, each carrying a big styrofoam cup of coffee. We had delivered our load in Winnemucca the night before, and so we pulled out of the restaurant lot bobtail. We drove down the road to a store, and got one of the weirdest loads I’d ever seen. It consisted of empty pallets.
“What’s with hauling this stuff?” I asked Jake.
“Thar’s not much in Winnemucca wo’th transpo’tin’ elsewhar, so whut ah’s doin’ is takin’ a two part job,” he explained, “We is a-gonna th’ Proctor’ & Gamble distribushun center in Irvine, droppin’ off some of their emppy pallets an’ haulin’ t’other load of P&G stuff t’Albuquerque. They’re payin’ me a small amount t’haul th’ pallets, so it’s mo’e sensible than daid-haidin’.”
“Makes sense,” I conceded.
When we finished hooking up and testing the brakes, we pulled out onto the road and soon merged onto Interstate-80.
“We’ll be passing through Reno,” Jake told me, “If you’d like, we can stop and see Jenny. There’s no heavy deadline for this load.”
“That might be nice,” I told him, “But I’d need to call her and I don’t know if I can find a phon-”
“You’re not getting off the hook that easy,” Jake told me, handing me his cellphone.
I dug in my backpack and found my address/phone book and found Jenny’s current number. So far as I know, as of four years ago, she hadn’t yet married- or dated- which made me feel bad. Also, she hadn’t moved out of the house we bought. She had gotten a job and made decent money. Also as of four years ago, she was still driving Willhelm, the name she had given the Mercedes. Twenty-one years old- I told you it would last.
She answered the phone, to my surprise.
“Jenny? It’s Johnny.”
I heard her squeal in what seemed like pure delight.
“JOHNNY!” she screamed, “It’s so great to hear from you, haven’t seen or heard from you in-”
“A while, I know.”
“Four years, ten months, twelve days.”
That made me feel worse.
“You remember that exactly?” I asked.
“Of course I do. I still love you,” she said, “But I won’t go into it. The last thing I want to do is trap you. What’s up?”
“I’ve been chumming up with this here trucker, nice fella,” I told her, “And we’re passin’ through Reno. He offered to let us hook up for dinner or something. I won’t be by for long, not like the week last time, so I’ll understand if you don-”
“I’ll take every minute of you I can get, Johnny,” Jenny said quietly, “I’ve got a big surprise for you, so what time will you be here?”
I looked at the old Rolex and noted it was a little after one o’clock. “Hold on,” I said and put my hand over the mic, “Jake, how long until Reno?”
“Figure three hours, because I need to stop for fuel. Give or take fifteen minutes.”
“Figure around 5:30, Jenny.”
“I’ll be waiting for you, Johnny.”
I hung up the phone and looked at Jake, “Thank you. I wonder what the surprise she referred to is.”
“No problem, my friend,” Jake said, “What’s with the extra hour?”
“I want to stop off and get her some flowers or something,” I told him.
“You got money?” he asked.
“Not much, but enough for some flowers.”
“Not an engagement ring?” he asked. He must of seen the mess of emotions flood over my face as I felt them flood over me, because he followed up with, “Sorry, I was just kidding.”
“It’s ok,” I told him. He didn’t really know me enough to appreciate the pain he just caused me.
“Yesterday,” he changed the subject, “You kind of implied that while you had a kid with Jenny years ago, it wasn’t your last.”
“Not by a long shot,” I told him, “Some I keep in contact with and some I don’t. A few I’ve even lost contact with. Not all of them are my blood children, though.”
“What you mean by that?” Jake asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I ... sort of adopted them, kinda,” I said, at a loss for how to explain what I was talking about.
“I sense a story,” he said with a smile.
“You’re only partially right,” I said, “Since there are several stories, although one particular one sticks out in Chicago.”
“Oh?” he asked.
I didn’t know how to tell the whole story of Kelly. Kelly is a lot of things to me. Of the living people in my world of rambling, she was the one who really got me. The beginning of our relationship was a bit odd. There aren’t many relationships in my life where the people intertwine with my life; Kelly is one of them. Kelly was part of the group who could be closest to calling my family.
But it didn’t start out that way. It started out as a meeting between a hobo and a young preteen girl. In the brutal Chicago winter. A girl with no home, and without being turned into the depravity of Child Services, she would have almost certainly died. Sometimes I destroy people; sometimes I hurt people. But Kelly? I saved her. There are few things I am more proud of.
But there were nuances to it, and I don’t know how many people would fully understand them. But it began that night in Chicago.
“Yeah,” I began, “It was one of my more broke times, I guess. I don’t think I had even had a full $20 on me at the time- and I don’t think I had more than a few hundred in my cash reserve in my Union Station locker. I had come into Chicago a few days earlier and hadn’t found a place willing to hire me. As I normally did when I didn’t have much money, I was sleeping on the streets. Well, to be more specific, I was sleeping in a secluded ledge that was windshielded under one of the Chicago river bridges...”
Even with the wind blocking, it was cold. It was a windy night, and it was Chicago. Being completely shielded from the wind was an impossibility. It was almost subzero temperatures. I was prepared for it; this was not the first or last time that I had slept here in the winter. But it was a kind of cold that if you didn’t know how to deal with it, it would almost certainly kill you.
When you’re a bum, you tend to have people frequently try and rob you while you sleep and other similar things. I guess they think you’re too drunk to notice these things. Also, the police aren’t known to listen to bums much anyway. So yeah, people try and rob you.
As a result, you tend to develop several things. One of them is an ability to immediately detect anyone near you or touching you. Another big one is the ability to wake up instantly and be completely alert and ready to act. One night just that happened to me. Except it was weird. It wasn’t something frisking me. It was something ... clinging to me.
Or more accurately, someone hugging me and shivering. I was soon completely awake and alert, and looked at the the small shivering mass that had decided to hold on to me. It was a very cold night, the way nights in Chicago can get in the middle of February. People used to sleeping out of doors get used to the cold, and usually also dress appropriately.
I was wearing a thick undershirt, a work shirt, long underwear, my usual overalls, a work jacket over that, and a big heavy long overcoat I had found in a Salvation army bin a couple of days before. Also, I was wearing a scarf and watch-cap. Since I had no need for my blanket, and it was just an item someone could easily steal, it was still in my backpack, which was serving as a backrest.
The person was trying to keep warm. I had been there a long time ago, when I still didn’t quite know how to do this. This was a particularly cold night, especially for a single person. I was willing to share my warmth with someone who needed it.
“Hi,” I said, doing my best to be disarming.
The person jumped and seemed to try to get away.
“No, it’s all jake,” I told them, “I don’t mind sharing warmth with a fellow vagrant.”
“You talk funny, man,” The voice shocked me. It was female and young. Very young. I didn’t know how to handle this, but I kept on being disarming. There was a scummy underbelly to Chicago; there were all kinds of reasons a kid would find themselves on the street snuggling up to a vagrant as preferable to their alternative.
“I have a blanket in my backpack that I can loan you,” I said, “And yes, I know I talk funny. I’m not from around here.”
“Where you from, man?” she asked.
“Everywhere,” I answered, “I’ve been roaming the world since I was seventeen. Also, my name’s Johnny, what’s yours?”
“Ke-ke-kellly,” she stammered.
“No need to be afraid of me, Kelly,” I told her, “I’m a vagrant by choice, not necessity. If I wanted things, I could get them. I also understand how things can make you run away. I’ve been running for more than ten years now.”
“Ten years, J-Johnny?” she sounded startled. I was at a disadvantage. It was impossible to read her facial expression in the darkness. My instincts told me she wasn’t a bad kid, and that she needed help. In the beginning of my days wandering, people helped me learn how to survive. I felt it my duty to pay it forward.
“Ten years, Kelly. I could have settled down, but I’m still running. So I understand. Let me get you that blanket. I’ll need to turn on my flashlight, just as a warning,” I told her.
“No!” she hissed, “No flashlight.” I knew she was scared of me seeing her youth. But from her voice, she was likely prepubescent. In the dark and dingy areas of this accursed city, there were parents who had no business having children. I was too aware of the streets to simply respond by returning her to whatever hellhole she had been apparently quite desperate to escape from.
“I can tell you’re young already,” I told her, “No need to hide it. I have a son, did you know that?”
“Really?” Kelly asked.
“Really,” I told her, “Let me get that flashlight and I’ll tell you the brief version of my son.” I knew there had to be others even then. I’ve had unprotected sex with quite a few women over the years, usually as a relationship, running from them when I started to get scared of commitment. There’s no way you can have sex with a bunch of unprotected women for a few weeks at a time each and not have the inevitable result sometimes.
I grabbed the old battered MAGLite. I liked that thing, it hadn’t been that expensive and it’s been with me for years. It’s taken quite a beating, too. I’m a thrifty person, which means sometimes spending more on something that you think will pay a return on the investment, be it a watch, a car, or a flashlight. In addition, the 4D-cell model could serve as a bludgeon if I ever needed one.
I found the blanket and handed it to her, and she gratefully wrapped it around herself. I unscrewed the head of the flashlight, removed the reflector and pocketed it, and inserted the butt of the flashlight into the head, creating a stand-up lantern of sorts.
“No,” I said, “Roll yourself in it. Make sure both edges are behind you and firmly rested upon. It makes it warmer, and harder to steal.” Maybe that was the wrong advice. It was the right advice for me; I’m large and not going to lifted bodily away. But this night, she was with me. She would be safe. Muggers are scared of the big veterans like me who could- and would - toss them head first into the Chicago river if they messed with us.
Under the grime and despair, she was a fairly pretty girl. She had limp hanging blonde hair that looked a little lifeless and greasy. She was no more than twelve years old, probably more like ten. She was, as a matter of course, extremely skinny. She clearly hadn’t even considered going through puberty, with a body like that. Her eyes looked sad and kind of dead. She was a mess.
She was dressed laughably for this kind of night. She had on a pair of ratty jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, a light-looking sweat hoody, and a light jacket she probably found laying around. All of it looked grubby and dirty. The jeans had a couple of holes through which I could see skin; she was not even wearing thermal underwear. No wonder she was shivering. I wasn’t sure the blanket, warm though it was, would be enough for this cold night.
I wasn’t nearly that young, and probably not that naive, when I left home. But she reminded me of me a little. Worse than me. To end up here, in this way, she had nowhere to go back to. Her thinness was particularly disturbing to me. I didn’t know how she could have been living like this, dressed like this, and not been eating to be this thin. She must have not been eating well even before she left home.
“When was the last time you ate, Kelly?” I asked her.
“Not long ago,” she said, “There was some pizza crusts outside the back door of that pizza place on Jackson.”
“Giordano’s?” I asked.
“I think.”
“How about tomorrow morning, I go by the station, get some money, and I’ll take you to Lou Mitchell’s?”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll see,” I told her.
“Ok,” she said, “but what about your kid?”
“I met a woman in Reno,” I started, “I had won an incredible amount of money at the tables. We fell in love that night, it was almost love at first sight. I bought us a house, and a new Mercedes, and still had more than half of it left over.”
“Why aren’t you there now?” she asked me.
“She got pregnant,” I said, “It scared the life out of me. Not the child, I like children. The commitment.”
“Why?” she asked again.
“Same reason I’m here on this freezing night, under a bridge, freezing my rastafarian ass off,” I said, smiling, “I’m broken.”
“So you just left her there?” she asked.
“Well, I did give her the car, the house, and the money,” I said.
Kelly asked, “Why’d you give her all that stuff?”
“I loved her, Kelly,” I explained, “I still do.”
“Then why leave? She didn’t love you, Johnny?” Kelly asked.
“Oh, I know she did. Hell, I saw her a few months ago, and she was telling me she hasn’t even dated since I left. I just can’t be committed to anyone, Kelly.”
“Why not?” she asked, “You seem pretty smart. Why don’t you marry her and make a family and-”
“Why indeed?” I growled, “I know what I’ll do! I’ll go and marry her and we can have a family and the two kids and the new car every few years! Who am I not to put my nose to the grind stone? I’ll work my ass off for somebody else’s benefit and after 40 fucking years I can retire and live in some fucking retirement dump, being robbed half blind and my other eye poked out. And in my golden years I can look back at all the broke-” I stopped because she was trembling and had a terrified look on her face. I was angry, but it was just an innocent kid. She didn’t realize she was touching a sensitive place.
“Who did this to you?” she cowered.
“I doubt I’ll ever know you well enough to even begin to explain it to you, Kelly.”
“It’s not my business,” she said, tearing.
“I won’t dispute you.”
She started crying.
“Kelly,” I said, taking her in my arms despite protests, “It’s ok. You didn’t realize you were touching a nerve. Just don’t prod too much into my past, and especially not my decisions.”
“You don’t like me,” she said petulantly, like the kid she, in fact, was.
“I like you fine, Kelly,” I told her, “I’m enjoying your company already, which is rare. In fact, how about we be friends?” I extended my hand. I wanted to help her. She really really needed help. And I thought I knew exactly how to do it.
“Ok, friends,” she said. Her smile was a mite scared as she shook my hand, but I got a distinct sense of trust. One of this girl’s problems, really. She was leaving one messed up situation ... but I’m also a pretty messed up situation. She trusted too much. I envied her this.
I turned off my flashlight, put it back in my bag, and lay back down on it. I opened my coats. The city lights were enough that we could still see each other, if only barely. I gestured to her to come over. I let her lay next to me and started to wrap my coat around her, too. It was clearly designed for someone fatter than I was at the time. She needed this warmth, on this night, or she would probably suffer from frostbite.
She shuddered and tried to back out.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“I-I do-don’t wa-want,” she stuttered.
“I’m just offering bodily warmth. Won’t go any further than that, I promise. Its too cold for what you are wearing, even with my blanket.”
I don’t know why she trusted me. You wouldn’t think she would, but she did. She cuddled up to me, I wrapped my coat around us, her warmth making me more comfortable too. We fell asleep quickly.
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