Rich Homeless Broken But Beautiful Page 14

  "Hey, Red, you know what? I brought you some of those jams you like so much." She retrieved some small jam jars from her bag that her hotel served every morning with breakfast; she always saved them for Red. She put them on the table, and Red rapidly scooped them up and put them in his overcoat pockets. He looked around furtively to make sure nobody had seen him. In the world of the have-nots, it is better not to show off something that could entice envy, and Red knew that even jam jars could do that.

  "Thanks, Linda. Boy, that lady who gives these to you near the hotel sure is regular."

  "Yeah, she sure is, regular and kind. You know what else, Red? I told her about you, about how you needed glasses and all and you know what she said to me?" Red eyed her quizzically; he did not like being the subject of conversations when he was not present.

  "No, what?"

  "She told me I should look out for you Red, you know, seeing as I'm your friend and all."

  "She said that, eh," Red said and smiled absentmindedly.

  "Yeah, she said that, Red, I swear she did."

  "Well, that's mighty kind of her, but you don't have to look out for me, Linda." He leaned toward Linda with a wry smile on his face and a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "I can take care of myself good enough, you know. I've been around a long time," he whispered.

  "Yeah, I know, Red, but hey, what do you say I watch your back and you watch mine, eh?" she whispered back.

  "Yeah sure, Linda, I can do that." He leaned back and smiled content with their exchange. The conversation had reached the limit of Red's mental capacity to concentrate on a subject.

  "Hey, Linda, what do you say we have a game now?" He didn't wait for her to answer but moved the chessboard that was set up beside him in front of both of them. His eyes were bright. The prospect of a chess game excited him. It was the one thing that he was good at, apart from surviving in his hostile environment, that is; he was, by some neurological incongruity and against all odds, an excellent chess player and won most of the time. His concentration when he played chess was extreme.

  "Okay, Red, let's play. You know what? Today I have a feeling I'm gonna whip you." He winced a few times as he examined the chessboard with intensity, his eyes bulging wildly, darting gleefully from side to side; he did not respond, already completely absorbed in the anticipation of his first moves.

  "Well, miss, how was your day?" Charles asked when he came to check in on Linda at six.

  "The usual, Charles, uneventful and pleasant, I guess. And you how was your day?" Linda was sitting in a large armchair close to a window that overlooked the city.

  "Excellent, miss. I had a great day, thank you. Is there anything in particular I should know for tomorrow?" The question was part of their routine. If Linda had decided that they would be going the next day, this would have been the time that she would tell him. She never gave him more than a few hours' notice, and he never got an indication as to where they would be going next until the very last minute. Charles did not mind this little cat and mouse game that he and Linda played; he enjoyed it as much as he enjoyed Linda's little peculiarities and eccentricities. He had gotten used to life on the road with her and had grown quite fond of it. It was pleasant enough, and he considered that he didn't have a very hard job.

  "No, Charles, nothing in particular for tomorrow. So, what did you do today?"

  "Well, I visited the museum. You know, they have a fabulous exhibition of African art-very complete, I might add. It took me a good three hours to do the whole tour. Then I headed down to the club. I've made some good friends down there, you know, British expatriates like me. We had a jolly time today, I'd say."

  "Good for you, Charles. I'm glad you're enjoying your stay."

  "Thank you, miss. Eating in, are you?" It was a superfluous question. Linda always ate in, and he knew that, but still, he liked to ask.

  "Yes, Charles I'm eating in, thank you for asking."

  "Well, if there's nothing else, I wish you a good evening, and I'll see you tomorrow, miss."

  "Yes, good evening to you too, Charles. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned and left the room. Linda heard the whooshing and clicking of the door of the suite as it closed behind him.

  She sat silently in the armchair for over an hour. She did not open the book sitting in her lap but stared out the window to the bustling city twenty stories below. From her vantage point, people were like ants, scurrying hurriedly about in a seemingly frantic and disorganized way. "How little time people take to reflect on the meaning of their lives," she pondered. Linda's gaze turned upward toward the cloudless sky. It was rapidly getting dark, and the horizon was ablaze with the crimson light of the dying sun. A profound melancholy suddenly invaded her, and for the first time in a long time she felt sad-sad and lonely, bitterly lonely. It was a loneliness so profound and so powerful that it caused her physical pain. Tears welled up in her eye and began to flow down her cheek. She clutched her chest with her one good hand and cried out loud, addressing the heavens, "Oh God, how could you have condemned me to this, how?" She thumped on her chest with her hand, and the tears continued to flow down her face. She began to shake, and tremors ran through her body. "Please help me, God, please." She had lowered her voice to a whisper, her gaze still pointing intently toward the darkening sky. She was startled by a knock on the door, and she turned around and quickly covered her head and veiled her face.

  "Come in," she shouted, sitting upright in the semidarkness.

  The door opened. It was Maria, the housekeeper, arriving with Linda's dinner.

  "Hello, Miss Staunton, how are you tonight?" Maria was pushing a room service table and talking at the same time. She was a heavyset woman of Mexican origins, always cheerful and very religious. Maria had seven children, and she believed that each one of them was a gift from God.

  "I'm fine, Maria; you're early tonight, aren't you?" Linda was still trembling from the powerful emotions that had just swept her body and was glad she was wearing a veil that concealed her distress.

  "Oh no, I'm not, Miss Staunton, it's exactly seven o'clock." Her heavily accented voice pitched up and down and had a pleasant musicality to it.

  "Oh really, I hadn't realized what time it was. I was lost in my thoughts, I guess. So, what have you brought me, my good Maria?"

  "Only good things, miss, only good things." Maria's cheerfulness made Linda momentarily forget her forlornness and profound melancholy.

  "I have fish, grilled, just like you like it, some steamed vegetables, and a small green salad." Maria was pointing to the various plates as she spoke. "Okay, here we go." Maria lit the lamp behind Linda, set up the table, and laid out the food.

  "Now if you need anything else, you just call me, okay? I'll be back in an hour to pick everything up."

  "Yes fine, Maria, thank you."

  "You're welcome. I'll see you in a little while, then." Maria left the suite. When Maria would come back later to pick up the dishes, Linda would have her sit down and they would have tea together and chat. It had become a ritual between them every night that Maria was on duty. She was an endless source of stories and anecdotes and had a large family, and there was always something going on with somebody. Linda loved these little chats with Maria. She was the only person in this five-star hotel, or any five-star hotel, as a matter of fact, that she could really relate to. Maria was a warm, loving, and caring person who was authentic and who had never fabricated an emotion or told a lie in her whole life. Linda had told her about herself in detail and about her accident and her subsequent recovery. Maria had sympathized with her and had never brought it up again. She treated Linda like any other human being and was oblivious to her condition.

  Regular as clock work, Maria showed up exactly an hour later carrying a tea tray and some cookies.

  "I'm telling you, Miss Staunton, my brother nearly had a heart attack," she began even before sitting down. "His own son doing a thing like that, can you imagine?" The day before she had been telling Linda about her nephew
, Carlos, who had been arrested for drunk driving. Maria was shocked by the boy's behavior.

  "That boy, he's always in trouble, I told Ernesto, "Ernesto, you have to be more strict with the boys, because boys, they're full of crazy ideas in their heads. But who listens to me, heh? Nobody, that's the problem, nobody listens to Maria. After all who am I, eh? I've only put seven children into the world, with God's help, of course." Maria looked upward and did a sign of the cross. On and on she went. She was a fountain of exuberance. Life gushed from her as water from a mountain stream. To her nothing was unimportant or trivial and everything mattered. Her generous nature and stories of ordinary people living their day-to-day lives brought some much-needed humanity into Linda's solitary existence.

  After Maria left, Linda picked up her book again. Although she could only read for a few hours at a time because her eye became tired, books had become her passion. She had begun reading the classics thanks to Charles's excellent advice; he brought her more books than she could read, and she devoured them with an uncommon rage. Linda could not concentrate on reading tonight, however, and there was no book in the world that could have chased away her catastrophic solitude and the hollow, empty feeling inside her heart.

  The next day at the shelter, Linda put a package on the table of the cafeteria in front of Red.

  "What's that?" he asked, looking at her suspiciously.

  "It's a present, Red, from that lady, remember? I told you about her, the one that gives me the jam jars."

  "A present, what for, she doesn't even know me?" He eyed the package but did not reach for it.

  "Yes, but I do, and she asked me to give this to you," she pushed the package in his direction. He eyed her, itching to grab the package but resisting.

  "Go on; take it; its okay," Linda encouraged him.

  Slowly Red opened the package. Inside were some reading glasses, a new pair of gloves, some stockings, and a large woolen sweater. All were items he needed and that would make his life a little more comfortable. He examined each item attentively, trying on the glasses and the gloves, obviously satisfied.

  "I don't really need these glasses, you know, Linda, but I'll keep them just in case, okay?"

  "Yeah, okay, Red."

  "That's mighty kind of that lady, Linda. You make sure you say thank you for me, will you?" He wrapped everything up quickly and placed the package at his feet under the table, looking around for prying eyes.

  "I will, Red. I'll tell her. She gave me something else for you, Red, but I don't want you to open it until you're alone, okay?" Very discretely Linda took out an envelope from her bag; in it she had put fifty twenty-dollar bills. She looked about furtively left and right like he did all the time. "Put this in your pocket right away," she whispered. In a swift movement, she handed him the envelope, and he snatched it from her hand and put it hastily in his inside jacket pocket, looking about with a silly smile on his face as if he had just stolen the last cookie from the cookie jar. He rubbed his hands together and looked toward Linda gleefully.

  "Okay, can we play now, Linda?" Not waiting for a reply, he placed the chessboard in front of them and began placing the pieces on it.

  "Yeah, Red, we can play." Linda was happy; she knew she had made his life a little better, even if it would only be for a short time.

  That evening Linda told Charles they were leaving the next morning and to get everything ready. Charles did not ask her where they were going; he knew he would only find out in the morning.

  For seven years Linda and Charles traveled across the country, going from city to city. Some cities they visited a number of times and others they never went back to. There was no particular plan; they would sometimes stay two weeks in one place and then three months in the next. Linda kept in touch with her family by phone, social media and by email. She spoke to her mother often, but in all those years, she had never gone back home and had seen no one of her family since Peggy's wedding. Linda just could not bear the thought of being around them; they were all getting on with their lives, which were filled with jobs, children, and beautiful homes. The thought of finding herself in the midst of all that life and joy was, to her, simply unbearable. She considered herself a burden because of her condition, and she felt that it was better that she stay away. Her mother found this very hard to deal with, but she knew there was nothing she could do or say that would make Linda change her mind. She hoped that one day she would relent and come and visit them. She sent Linda pictures and videos of every baby and of every birthday party and of every Christmas or family reunion. She had the little ones draw her pictures and write her notes, and she made sure that Linda remained a part of their lives. Linda sent them presents and cards on birthdays and at Christmas, and she talked to all of them on the phone, but still, she stayed away.

  The road had become Linda's new family; she loved the anonymity and the detachment inherent to always being on the move. No one could get close to her or enter her intimacy-no one except Charles, that is. He was her anchor and her savior; he took care of her with infinite tenderness and attention and was discreet and kind and gentle and considerate. When it came to her comfort, he would check things to the tiniest detail, as if his own life depended on it. They had become close in many ways, yet at the same time they remained strangers. It was the way they were together. It was not something that they had decided or wished, but the way things had worked themselves out for them.

  Linda continued to explore the world of the homeless and the abandoned in every city she went. She became much bolder in what she did; she wore clothes that were more and more decrepit, and on a few occasions, she had even uncovered her face completely on busy streets and in broad daylight. The repulsive reactions of people fascinated her. They sidestepped her as if she was contagious, grim expressions on their faces, and mothers protectively pushed their children aside, covering their eyes so they could not see her. Sometimes Linda would stretch out an open hand to them, a few put some coins in her hand, but most just walked by hurriedly, eyes averted, unwilling to have any form of contact with her.

  The only people who did not shun her were the street people, the homeless and the vagrants and the ones that society had permanently put aside. These people continued to fascinate her. She wanted to know more about them, about their world and their lives and about what made them who they were, about where they came from, and how they had ended up on the street. During the day she wandered their streets of predilection and visited their haunts. She hung out at the parks that they hung out in, and she lived and breathed by the rules of the street. Amongst the street people she became indistinguishable. They immediately accepted her into their midst. To them she was just another person with a sad story to tell. Linda loved to move about their unforgiving and dangerous world. She felt that she belonged there. It was among the have-nots and the destitute that she recovered her fractured sense of self, and it was when she was among them that her heart filled up again with love and hope.

  "So, miss, I hope this is going to be a long drive." It was a beautiful, clear summer day, and they had just hit the road.

  "I guess so Charles, why?"

  "Well, I feel like driving today. The sun is out, and the road is opening its arms to us, and we haven't been on the road for months, you know I kind of missed it."

  "Me too, Charles, I missed it too." Linda stared out the window at the countryside rolling past, allowing her thoughts to wander. After a short while she looked up front toward Charles.

  "Charles?"

  "Yes, miss?"

  "Tell me, do you believe in God?"

  "Why do you ask, miss?"

  "Oh I don't know, curious I guess."

  "Okay, miss, let's see; where should I start? Well, the first thing I'd say is that I have a lot of difficulty imagining some kind of superior being who is aware and who cares about what's going on in the lives of billions of human beings. That for me is a preposterous notion, as is heaven and hell, reincarnation, or any other fairy tale that
was invented by the priests, rabbis, imams, and so on. These self-proclaimed men of God invented these stories in a time when people did not know how to read or write and practically all knowledge or news was transmitted orally. They feverishly pitched their visions as absolute truths to ignorant and uneducated masses. Those were brutal times in human history, miss; people did not live very long, because of wars, disease, or famines. Most societies were ruled by absolute power, and religion was the tool that the kings and demagogues used to keep the masses in check. The men of God gratefully obliged them, and God became the answer to everything and to anything." Charles was on fire, gesticulating with his hands and body, his eyes moving from the road to the rearview mirror, where he could see Linda listening in silence in the back of the car. If he could have seen beneath her veil, he would have noticed that she had a bemused smile on her face.

  "The organized religions of today are the remnants of what has been passed down to us from that past. They are all destined for the historical junkyard, miss, and the reason is very simple; they have become obsolete, and education and the development of our collective intellect will bury them." Charles paused for a moment, and Linda smiled and said, "Wow, Charles, it was just a question. I didn't expect a lecture." Charles did not heed her comment. Linda had got him going and now, and he was on roll.

  "But you see, on the other hand, miss, when I observe the magnitude of the universe and the beauty of this planet, I stand in awe of that. I am humbled and silenced by all that magnificence and the mystery of our existence. So, what do I believe in? I believe that we are minuscule inhabitants of the universe, no more important than any other inhabitants of the universe that might be out there, and as for understanding the mysteries of the universe and how we got here and where this is all going, well, it's not something that I think I will find out in my lifetime, so I don't dwell on it."