Chapter 5 continued.

I woke up.

Put on my comfort robe, made some coffee, and sat on the sofa.

I stared out the window.

"Molly, what are you doing?"

It was so tempting for today to be another one of those couch days, so tempting. But I knew for the better of me, I had better get up.

I got up. I Got dressed, and headed out the door.

I was walking, but I had no idea where I was going. So I went to Old Town, where wanderers go.

I couldn't believe how the city was so nice in the fall. Beyond nice. Everything, no matter how ugly, was now beautiful. The cold and the newly warm colors warmed me to my bones.

I was awfully close to the waterfront, watching early biking commuters running into early morning joggers. So I moved past them to get closer. The water was quiet and serene. When I looked into it, I could see my reflection. My face. The water was as still as it could of been, but my facing was moving. Moving in vast chunks, and never in one place. I felt like the water was the only one who truly saw me for who I was now. I wasn't me, I wasn't in one place. I was a mess of things I used to be, floating around, trying to put myself back together again.

I took one last glance and walked away.

I was walking on a sidewalk where nicely large bushes laid. I thought this made something man-made look more earthy, and thought it silly that we needed both environments in the same place. Then I saw something.

Something in the bushes.

It was a large lump, human size, with a blanket barely covering it. It didn't hit me at first, I thought it was a pile of garbage, but then I realized it was a person. It was so cold, but everything got colder at that point. I hesitated. I looked around me. People were farther away now. I knew then I had to do something. The thing I had waited for, maybe the thing that would make me normal again, had presented itself.

I hated homeless people. Not because of who they were, but what they represented. They represented the ultimate fear that was in my mind. Being alone, and not knowing where you belonged.

When I first started college, I was on my own. My parents were divorced, and I had lived with my father since I was fourteen. I had felt the sense of abandonment when I was younger, but not so much until I was finally legally an adult. On my birthday, my dad announced he wanted me out of the house. We had been close friends since the divorce, but when he pushed me out, I had never felt more alone or scared.

I bummed off of friends for months until I saved enough from my minimum wage job to move out in some ridiculously small space.

I thank him now, for forcing me to grow up. If I had not found my own way, I think I would still be stuck under his roof.

I bent down close, but not too close, to the person and whispered,

"Sir, excuse me, sir?"

Nothing.

"Sir?"

I gently put my palm on his back. I didn't need to nudge him, as soon as I did, he slowly came back to life.

"Ugh, don't worry, I'll be out of here soon."

His voice surprised me. I expected someone much older, but it seemed the guy was only middle aged, maybe younger.

"No sir, I'm not trying to move you. I was just wandering if you were alright."

The lump removed his blankets. I saw him now, a real person. He was a young man in his thirties, probably. He had a full grown beard, and long shaggy hair that outlined his face and eyes. His piercingly sad eyes held a hint of malice, maybe at the world, government, but at the moment, it was me.

"I'm fine. You can leave now."
"Are you sure there isn't something I can help you with?"
"No."
"Are you hungry?"
"I'm Homeless. I'm always hungry."
"Well, we are right by Stumptown Coffee. Do you want some coffee?"
"I can't go in there."

I felt horrible for him. He seemed like what I was on the inside, only I was clean and had a home. Behind the beard and the gruffness, I could tell he was somebody once. Someone who used to be handsome, and maybe even liked life when it was going his way.

"Well, how bout I get some food or something, and bring it back here to you?"

He was hesitant. I knew he wanted food, I could see it in his face, but even though he was a street man, he was polite.

"Um, if you want."
"Yeah. What would you like?"
"Whatever is cheap I guess, and maybe a coffee."
"What kind?"
"Black is fine."
"Great."

I ran away, I had a sudden burst of excited energy. At first I was unsure why, but then I realized I was overwhelmed with gratitude. This man had given me a purpose, even if momentarily, to not think of my own problems and issues.

I came back with the hot coffee, and a small regular doughnut. When I went to hand it to him, he just sort of looked at it for a minute as if it wasn't real. Then he took it slowly.

When he drank from the cup, his demeanor seemed to ease everywhere. He looked up at me.

"Thank you."

It was sincere.

"Not a lot of people would of done this."

"Yeah...To tell you the truth, in all honesty I'm surprised I even did."

I felt pathetic. Not for him, but for myself. He wasn't surprised though.

"Yeah, it's ok. A lot of people are self driven. That's just how it is here. I suppose we all should just move to Iceland."

"Why is that?"

"It's proven it's the happiest country on earth, because when people fail over there, it's accepted. It doesn't matter."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That sounds perfect."

"There's no such thing."

"Yeah, I guess your right. But it's something desirable. Where did you hear about Iceland?"

"Something I read once..."

"Hmm."

There was a moment of silence. Not so much the deadly silence though, the one that means death. It was a nice silence. I suddenly realized at that moment I was sitting next to a bum who was eating my breakfast. It was so odd. So odd for me. I was sitting next to my biggest fear. He was what I never wanted to be, what I couldn't even look at most days. What I was afraid to look at.

"So what's your story?"

He said.

I almost laughed that he was the one asking me.

"My story?"

"Yeah, everyone has one. I hear almost a new one everyday. A lot of people tell me, even without me asking."

"Mine isn't very interesting."

"I'm sure it is."

I didn't know what to tell him. I didn't really feel anything. I was a dead beat.

"Well, maybe I'll tell you mine."

"I'd like that."

"I grew up in Boston, Massachusetts,"

I shrugged. Just the sound of the place...

"I had a nice family, they treated me well. Somehow, I hated them for it. So i left. I went to college. Got my master's in English Literature, had a family of my own, and they hated me like I hated mine. So they left me, and I left the world."

Silence.

"Wow."

"Yeah, that's life though isn't it?"

"I would hate to think so, but some things turn out really fucked up."

"Yeah."

"What's your name?"

"John."

"I'm Molly."

"It's a pleasure."