Some Change

SOME CHANGE

Sarah must have heard me sigh. I could hear the wooden floor creaking as she came to the door and stood, watching me. It’s a sight she should be used to with me hanging around the house for the last month.
“You need to get out some. Change will do you good,” she said.
The large cast encasing my right shoulder and arm made getting out of the over-stuffed leather reclining chair a challenge. Sarah didn’t come over to help, I’d made it clear I would handle my momentary convalescence with dignity.
I finally made it up and was standing balanced, looking at Sarah. “I don’t need change, I need to get this fucking plaster wrap off me.”
Sarah, the artist, stepped into the room and swept her arm. She did this well, for my eyes followed her intention: My leather chair had a circle of debris around it. Wrappers, newspapers, books. An end table with a launch pad of remotes and empty cups.
I had intended to argue, but she had pointed her point well. “Yeah, you’re right.” It was clean when she went to work this morning. It seemed I had a busy day.
“I’ll try to straighten your sty while you’re out.”
I opened my hand at the end of the cast in a great show of contrition and grumbled my thanks.
I was walking my way down to the strip mall feeling like a wounded bird with my left arm stuck up at an unnatural angle when I began to feel self-conscious. It started with the consistent way kids in cars would continue to stare at me as they went by, like pod-children.
By the time I made it to the mall, I was paranoidish. Tired. Just wanting a cup of coffee, an evening newspaper and a donut.
“Some change, mister?” came from a male in dark, disheveled clothes bundled against the wall at the end of the mall.
“Shit! I mean, no, sorry.” I felt bad, but I had to keep going.
Donut Haven was down at the other end of the strip of stores. I decided I wasn’t up to the level of scrutiny to walk down that walkway, so I turned down the alley behind the stores.
I did not frequent back alleys and I found the way was not consistently clear, so I had to keep my head down to watch where my feet were stepping.
I came upon an area of brown water. Unknown depth and articles within. I was slowly negotiating what I thought was the most shallow route when a horn blared behind me. Twirling and hopping at the same time is not a skill I’d developed with my big cast, so I went down. I lay in the muddy puddle of questionable quality as the big-ass truck splashed by me.
“Fuuuck!!” I spluttered best as I could. After a couple of attempts to stand, I felt someone’s hands under my armpits helping me to get up and balance.
“Thanks,” I said. “Fuckin assholes in that truck.”
“I know,” he said, and the man from the end of the mall wandered back the way I had come.
I watched him while I tried to shake off the wretched water.
It was only by luck that the shop had no other patrons. Between getting my wallet and my money out of my soaked pocket, I was apologizing for muddying his floor. I had known the owner previous to my injury, so he gave me a little slack.
My cloth shopping bag was now mostly brown from dirty water and mud. To keep the coffee upright, the man attached the coffee to the end of my cast, putting into the brown bag the donuts and newspaper to hold in my other hand.
I decided to skip the alley. After a few yards, the lid blew off the coffee cup and most of the coffee sloshed out. I went past a couple of stores and sat on a bench. An old lady hobbled up to me and put her change into my cup.
All she said was, “Some change would be good for you young man,” before walking away.
My mouth was only hanging open a few minutes before some change was dropped in by a guy in a business suit.
I had to get home, so I had to get moving. I still moved slowly and people of all ages and shapes were staring, but I paid little attention. I was thinking. That led me into the small hardware store at the end of the strip mall.
When I left the hardware store I checked against the end wall of the mall and the dark bundle of cloth was there, slightly moved and wet. I walked over to him and he looked up, then gave me a small smile.
“Some change,” I said as I gave him what I had.
Eventually, I made it home. Tired, damp and filthy, I went to the laundry room to take them off. When I had them piled on the floor, Sarah came in. I could see “What the hell…?” going through her mind.
I held up my hands, stopping comment, and found my new purchase from the hardware store. It was a two and a half foot long picker-upper with little suction like fingers on the end. With a little getting used to, I was able to put all of my filthy rags into the top-loading washing machine.
I raised my other hand into the air for a matching pair and said, “Some change is a good thing, right?”
Sarah laughed. “Some change their clothes in the bathroom. Still, tell me your adventures after you shower. I’ll put some clothes out for you.”
“Thank you, dear,” I called after her as she walked down the hallway.
I was adding soap and starting the wash, while pondering, Some change, and some don’t.