Homeless

Chapter 2

The day crawled by and my cold got worse, even the blanket that a charitable woman had given me didn't help.

As the sky darkened, I made my way to a food joint. The boss there let me work for some food. The arrangement had been going on for a few weeks now, and since I didn't have the luxury to be picky, I cleaned his store for whatever he'd give me- at times it was only enough to fill Mark's empty stomach.

Today, he threw me a paper bag when I finished cleaning and chased us out before the evening crew and customers started filing in.

Mark and I left through the back door into a dark alley. I stifled a cough, leaning against the dark gray wall. I peeked into the paper bag. There was a sandwich and some cash inside.

"Here, sit down," I said, putting the blanket on the ground for Mark. He curled on it and dug into the sandwich with relish. I looked to both sides of the alley to make sure it was empty. Safe for a few dumpsters in a corner, it was deserted.

Taking the chance, I scoured my backpack and my clothes for all the money I had. There was enough for the tickets alright, it wasn't what would cost the most. I needed food and drinks for the trip, and I had to buy proper clothes for the trip in order to not attract attention. The hole-ridden, permanently-stained, threadbare clothes we owned would stand out.

I stuffed the money in a hidden pocket I had sewn into my backpack. Tomorrow we would get what we needed and leave. Nerves of thrill and fear ate at my guts. Tomorrow.

"Done?" I asked Mark. He nodded but stayed seated. I turned my head to cough into my shoulder again, then looked down at him. "Mark?"

"Can we sleep in a bed tonight?" he asked, eyes down and fingers flicking. I rubbed my forehead- it felt warm- and sighed.

"How about we find somewhere more fun, hmm?" I asked, crouching down to look at him. He shook his head violently.

"No. Bed, bed," he said, rocking back and forth. My throat tightened. "Bed. Bed. Bed."

"Mark, Mark, sweetie." I grimaced when he kept muttering, his hands flapping. I tried touching his shoulders but he jerked away.

"No! I want to sleep in a bed. I want to sleep in a bed. I want..."

My eyes watered, from the cold or the helplessness, I didn't know. All I could do when he had one of his episodes was try to pacify him, or let him ride through it until he tired out.

Fortunately, today he calmed down rather quickly. But his silence soon turned into quiet tears that reached into my chest and squeezed my lungs.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, wiping away his tears and resisting my own. "I'm sorry, sweetie. But I promise, everything will be alright soon. Okay?"

Not replying, he looked down. With a heavy heart, I gathered our stuff and we left the cover of the alley for someplace warmer to crash tonight.

The night streets bustled with activity. The artificial lights all over the buildings and billboards brightened the city and kept people outside until the early hours of the morning.

Keeping my head down and my eyes alert, I led Mark toward the park in which we'd spent the last few nights. I spotted what I wanted right away.

I put the blanket I had acquired today on the bench near the homeless old man I had left coverless last night. He was sitting on the bench, snuggled into an old worn out coat, his eyes wary. Then I rushed away.

He yelled something that sounded like a 'thank you'. It painted a humorless smile on my face. If he knew I was the one who had stolen his blanket in the first place, he wouldn't be thanking me.