Two bucks
The scruffy dark-haired young man approached me on the corner as I waited for the light to change.
"Hey man, I hate to bother you, but can you help me out? I'm starving."
His clothes were a little dirty but still almost fashionable, but his dark eyes looked hollow and more than a little scared. I reached into my pocket to feel around for the singles I'd gotten in change earlier.
"I've never been homeless before. It's fuckin' embarrassing. I can't find water, and I'm scared to sleep. I don't know what I'm going to do."
"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"
"Domestic violence bullshit." I hesitated, money half out of my pocket. "My girlfriend hooked up with a new guy, so she made up some shit and got a restraining order to throw me out of my own apartment."
He must have seen my eyes, as a look of horror spread across his face. "No, no way, man! I might do some bad shit, but I'd never hit a girl. No, not ever, not even if she deserved it! Her new guy, I'd kick his ass if I caught him, but not her, not a girl!"
I believed him, or wanted to believe badly enough to accept the story. He took the two singles with a sigh, and shook my hand weakly. "God bless you, man, God bless you."
"Yeah, God bless you, too, guy."
5 Comments:
I want to believe him, too.
I always want to believe their story.
You told this story well.
You're a good man.
I salute you, sir, for your willful generosity.
After two years on the road in Miami and it's environs, I pretty much blocked out every panhandler and weirdo that approached me at gas stations and parking lots. The stories all got to be a bit much, particularly the dude outside the Safra bank in Aventura who swore up and down he was the drummer for Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers and just needed a ride back up to Ft. Lauderdale before his car got towed.
I can't believe this really happened. What a great story for you to be able to tell. I hope he was able to get himself together.
I always try to give, because, you never know...
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