Chapter 2 — The Eloquent Bum

The cashier and cook quickly found ways to busy ourselves in order to avoid making eye contact with him.

I, unfortunately, had reacted too quickly to the opening door and found myself staring the man in his eyes.

Avoiding eye contact with the homeless had always been my solution to the problem of guilt. I’d feel guilty because I’d imagine how I’d feel if people refused to look me in the eyes, or on the occasions where they did, they would look at me with either pity or contempt. As if my mere presence was bothersome and their only wish was for me to bother someone else lest I dirty them.

With enough social interactions like that, how could I, as a potential bum, find evidence to see themselves as equal to others? How could I muster the courage to stand as tall as I could and expect to receive the same level of respect, when I am lying on the street, unable to make something useful of myself and to broader society?

How much more would it hurt my pride as an individual to receive those pitiful statements from sympathizing passers-by? (and those would surely hurt more than the contemptible words!)

How much more self-contempt would I hold for allowing myself to end up in such a position? (even if my situation was not entirely my fault, my thoughts would inevitably lead to probe the past decisions I had made and how I could have altered that future had I been a bit more shrewd)

A person can only know if their behaviors and thoughts are acceptable in society if they have a community of people who care enough to confirm or correct them. How do you provide this constant care and love in a city? Everyone else is running around trying to stay afloat with their jobs, find happiness for themselves, and feed their own families.

Who has space in their hearts to display unconditional love and understanding to a person who may not even be willing to change? Who can take such a herculean challenge?

But I digress — philosophizing will get us nowhere.

“You! I’ve been looking for you.”

He walked up to me, and from a close distance, the mixture of body odor and dried urine overwhelmed me.

I didn’t want to be rude, however, so I dared not to flinch and kept eye contact. I was also very surprised and nervous because I never recalled seeing this man.

“Me? Do I know you?”

“I was told by God that I’d meet someone who could help me today, and He told me that he would look me in my eyes. I’ve walked around all day and you were the only person who was willing to look at me.”

My right eyebrow instinctively went up in disbelief. I didn’t know how to make sense of the situation, but I at least knew that I wanted to get out of that deli as quickly as possible.

I turned from the homeless man, handed the cashier a $5, and told him to keep the change. As the cashier started to bag my sandwich, I turned back to him and inquired,

“What did God tell you I could help you with? If it’s something to do with money, sorry but that $5 was all the cash I had.”

He was still looking straight at me, never dropping his gaze. It felt like he was trying to burn a hole through my eye sockets with his intense glare.

“I saw when you took out your $5, you also had a $20 bill! God told me that you would be able to help me feed my kids tonight. Please son, I know you might think I’ll use the money for booze or drugs, but I promise that I use it to give them some food! I wander the streets and delis all night, hoping to gather enough to at least fill their stomachs and spare them the shame of looking into garbage bins or become beggars themselves! For if one adopts a beggar’s mindset early on, they may never escape it. I feel ashamed that I have to put them through this, but I love them and I have no other way to feed them! Before my wife left me and the kids, we were able to get by each day since we were both able to beg for money. Now there are days where I sacrifice my hunger just to see my children munching happily in the tent we live in just a few blocks away. I would venture out into more neighborhoods, but there are complications you see! First, I wouldn’t know who to trust to oversee my kids while I’m out — my heart aches for them every second that I leave them alone! If anything happened to them, the meaning of my life would disappear and I would surely fly into a murderous rage. Be it the police or social workers, who want to take them away for their own good, I’ll kill them if they try to take away my precious kids! And while I have those to worry about, you wouldn’t believe the politics there are in the homeless communities! There are unspoken rules and territories that belong to the homeless — you can’t beg for money on a street corner without some fellow walking over and demanding tax for allowing you to be there in their territory! We walk away from one form of society to another, and this one is ruled by more primitive, fatal rules. I’m sorry to burden you with this tale sir, but I have not been able to eat in two days so I knelt on the ground as the sun was coming up this morning and prayed to God for deliverance. I prayed that even if I were to die, He would provide for my children for I love them and beat my chest every night in shame and humiliation for not being able to give them a normal life. And what hurts most is that they don’t blame me for it! The love of children is disarming and infinite, but I know that they cannot blame me because they simply don’t know any better! They will surely grow up and resent their father, and I hope to be out of their lives by then, for my presence will only continuously remind them of their shameful past.”

I was dumbstruck by the flurry of words. The story was a tragedy, and one of many that were trapped in the souls of these homeless people, who were desperate to tell their tales to anyone who could give them only a few minutes of their lives. It was clear that this man did not resemble the stereotypical homeless man, and I sympathized with him enough to give him my $20.

His eyes glistened and he started to reach for my hand. But a thought flashed through his head and he pulled it back quickly — perhaps he was thinking that his hand was something that was unworthy of touching, due to his numerous experiences of people rejecting his handshake.

“Thank you, oh thank you son! I knew that God would help me tonight. My kids will sleep with warm stomachs, and maybe I can help myself to a loaf of bread.”

This thought made me feel warm inside — I had helped an unfortunate man, and maybe the universe (or karma, whatever you call it) will pay me back! I got my sandwich from the cashier and started to make my way to the door.

The homeless man stood there smiling, still holding the $20 bill, as if mesmerized. Then he barked his order at the cashier and cook:

“Hey Frank, gimme a Marlboro Red and one of those tiny flasks of Grey Goose! I hit the jackpot tonight hehe! And Hyun-Soo my man! Let me get the usual — you know how I like it! Bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll with hot sauce and ketchup. Extra crispy bacon, give it a slight burn on the egg, and make sure the American cheese is melted! I sure am hungry!”

I stopped walking out of the store and turned around in disbelief.

“What the hell?”

Chapter 3 coming soon..