Postcard #2

Toronto, Ontario, Canada
2005

Hearing "can you spare some change" becomes so common that it's only when a man huddling in a door way, with only a thin jacket on, doesn't ask that I actually took notice. I knelt down in front of him and dug into my pocket. Jamie stopped with me, but the rest of our friends walked on ahead. We took what spare change we had and put it into his cup with a weak smile.

"Thank you so much." We got up to walk away, but he asked, "What are your names?"

"Ashley."

"Jamie."

"A pair of names I will never forget."

We huddled next to each other, trying to beat the cold. The man looked at us, with such intensity that it scared me. I looked away, but not out of fear or shame. The feeling that over took me was almost too much to handle all at once.

"Are you two a couple?" He asked, in a friendly tone that didn't seem to fit his stare.

"No."

"There's a bond between the two of you that's stronger than I see in most couples." A few of his teeth were chipped, broken. Most of them were yellowing and a few were even brown. I tried not to stare, but I didn't want to glance into his eyes either.

"We've been friends since kindergarten."

Out of courtesy, we knelt in front of him, but kept on our feet. Just in case.

"And you're a straight shooter," he told Jamie. The man reached out with his weathered hands. They looked leathery and swollen with the cold. He touched Jamie's hat and said, "One thing I've learned is how to read people by the way they wear their hats. You wear yours straight on. There's no beating around the bush with you. But look at that man over there."

We turned to look at our group of friends. They had stopped and hung back, not wanting to 'interfere', as they would later tell us. Chris was standing at the front of the group, wearing a hat lifted a little at the front, showing off a tuft of hair.

"That man, he's a sport. Do you know what I mean? He gives off this appearance of being wholesome, but he's the alpha-male."

I laugh right out loud.

"She knows it’s true."

We sit down on the ground with him feeling the cold concrete beneath us. It was uncomfortable being that close to those eyes, but I was curious and not scared.

"How did you end up on the street?"

"I was a teacher. I had a wife. Two children. But I've made mistakes. We all make mistakes."

I shivered. The man didn't seem to notice the cold.

"And it took me this long to learn from them."

We handed him our Styrofoam containers from our backpack, full of that morning's left over breakfast. He picked at the meal and I was happy for a moment that his eyes were else where.

"Don't think that you'll be given another chance. Live like this is it. Because it really is. And look where I am."

My friends walked over, frustrated that they had to stand out in the cold and tired of being left out. He took his eyes off the eggs and pancakes to see into each of their eyes. All of them shifted uncomfortably and Brenda told us, "We're going to miss our bus."

"Thank you for this conversation," I told him. His eyes caught mine. Jamie pat him on the shoulder and walked away.

"I should be thanking you. You gave me your money and your food."

"It's barely enough."

"You're not the one who should be asking for forgiveness," he told me. That's when his eyes turned soft. I was no longer uncomfortable or nervous.

"I didn't apologize for anything."

"We all have our own ways." He smiled in a way that told me the conversation was over. For another moment I stood over him, but he didn't glance up at me.

When I reached my friends Jamie whispered, "The way he watched us. I could feel him searching my soul. I don't think I had what he was looking for."

I turned around one last time before crossing the street. The man was still watching me, grinning with his yellow, broken teeth. I smiled back at him.