Watershed: A Memoir - Chapter Three

CHAPTER 3

“DEPARTURE”
A few weeks had passed since that fateful day of my first time staying in a homeless shelter. I had started to get used to the routine. The weather had warmed up a little but the night and early mornings still brought the last remnants of winters frost. I was now receiving food stamps and had acquired some boots and a few pairs of pants from the charity clothing room from the mission where people had donated. Some personal items were stolen from me while staying at the mission. Ultimately it was my fault since I had trusted someone who I thought was cool to watch my bag when I left to use the restroom. They even stole that pair of jeans I wore when I first got to the City that still had puke on them from the bus trip. That made me laugh because they really got what they deserved. I also had a manila folder full of important documents such as copies of my resume that I used to hand out at the different businesses, my birth certificate, social security card and about 10 different certificates that I had earned while in trade school, were all stolen. My only thought to why someone would steal those would be the fact that they were jealous or spiteful of me. I had no idea why because up to this point I was nice to everyone but always cautious.
I met a few more people at this point, one being Roger. He was a short nice old man probably about sixty years old who had overheard me talking about welding and mentioned that he was a welder at one point and time in his life. Roger explained to me that he was layed off from a company he was working for a long time and eventually couldn't make rent because no one wanted to hire him because of his age.
Then I came across this
tall black guy named Mohammed who was the one who had talked about shipping out for the military while standing in line the week before. He seemed alright but was trying to get me to go with him to his Army recruiter and sign up for service. I didn't want to be a part of the war machine and would have rather been homeless than fighting for something I didn't support.
Then there was Simon. He was kind but was quite the oddball, often stroking his beard and intensely staring off into space. Simon kinda looked Jewish and had shaggy hair and same like Brendan about my age, so we had somewhat common ground. Many other people I had conversations or shared a smoke with. I was diligent in asking them if they knew who was hiring or not but unfortunately the general consensus was that work was very scarce. It was also revealed to me that putting the Mission's address down as my own was a mistake since many places didn't want to hire anyone who was homeless. Although the companies would not admit to that if you asked because it was discrimination. I kept a call list of all the places that I had applied to and kept calling to try to get a job to no avail. I used to be confident in my ventures to get employment, but the recession coupled with lack of resources and not to mention being homeless, made it next to impossible to find work. The rest of the day was spent brainstorming how things were going to turn around and on new strategies of how to get employed. That night I fell asleep dreaming of better days to come.

∞
The day before I had promised this Black Preacher that I would be going to his church that he had just started. There would be a van to pick others and myself up and drop us off back at the mission after service. We were told that when we came back to the mission there would be sandwiches for us since we would be missing lunch there. I was waiting outside smoking a cigarette when the van had arrived. So all of us boarded and off we went to Church.
It was about a fifteen minute drive from where the Mission was but still in an urban area tucked away amongst a store front plaza; if it wasn't for the white sign that indicated it was a church no one would have known it was there. Inside the Church it was pretty small, with a podium in the back, a PA system, a piano and finally a drum set. We all sat down in the pews while a short White guy with long hair and a mustache sat down at the drum set, then an older Black guy also with a mustache and long hair brought in a bass guitar. The pair started to warm up with a few measures of music. The preacher came in after we were all settled and someone sat at the piano. Before we knew it, the music had started and the hymn books were passed out among us. The place, although small and not laden with fancy decorations, nor had a high steeple; suddenly came alive. I was in awe at the skill of the musicians, they really skillfully laid down some good tunes. That bass would play a line that would walk up and down the scale and the drums were blazing. The piano's keys danced as if it was on fire and the sound of the strings striking rang through the air. The preacher was throwing out some notes and we all sang along, it gave me a chill down my neck. This church was alive unlike the mission. Here I saw the passion, the faith and the talent; we were all one with Church. The sermon went on the preacher spoke about how he started out his life running around with gangs, selling drugs and how he changed his ways by turning to God. There was an older white man that sat in the corner close to the preacher who had mentioned something to the preacher a few times, pausing the sermon. The preacher would turn and politely answer him each time. Overall I did like the church it was alive and it felt like if God were any where it would be here. The sermon finally concluded and I shook the preacher's hand then gave him my thoughts on the preaching. We all loaded onto the van to return to the mission, the older white gentleman who's name I found out was Richard boarded also to my surprise. We returned back to the mission after lunch time and were given sandwiches and chips provided in a brown paper bag with a small carton of milk. I finished my meal and still felt pretty moved by the days events. I went outside to smoke a cigarette, I noticed that Richard was out there also and was carrying a blue duffle bag.
Richard was talking to a few people that were smoking around the concrete pillar ash trays that were in front of the mission's glass doors. It was sunny outside and felt pretty nice that day. I noticed that Richard was telling people that he was going to get his social security money and was promising to hand it all out to different people that passed him by. He also was speaking incoherently about random things and didn't make sense. I approached him and lit up another cigarette to serve as an excuse for hanging around, something didn't seem right.

“Hey there how are you doing? Did you like Church today?” I asked.
“Yes, I always go there, my name is Richard.” he answered with a raspy strained voice.
“Mine is Stefan. So, are you homeless? Do you stay here too?” I inquired.
“No, I live down the road a few miles.” he responded plainly.
“Well, what brings you here if you don't mind me asking?” I don't remember what exactly he said, he was talking very unintelligibly, and his eyes didn't seem right at all. It appeared that he had very high blood pressure because his face was flushing red. A person walked by and Richard reached out and said that he was getting $800 from social security and that he would give it to him, which was a complete stranger. The guy turned and said “okay” laughed and walked on his way. I turned to Richard completely baffled.

“Hey why are you offering to hand over all your money it makes no sense.. you don't look well are you feeling okay?” I asked concerned for the strangers health.
“No, I don't feel too good.” he said in labored breaths.
“Hey, I know you don't know me but you should really go to the emergency room. I will take you there.” I reasoned.
After a protest or two I practically begged him at which he finally agreed to go. I went inside the mission and told the staff person at the desk what was going on and that I would be gone for a few hours. I offered to carry Richard's bag for him which was very heavy, I asked him what was in it, he said it was important things that are his. The hospital was about two miles away so we stopped many times for him to catch his breath which was a relief on my arms so I could set down the heavy bag each time we stopped. Finally we made it to the hospital and stepped into the emergency room, the nurse took back Richard after a few minutes. Later she returned at about a half hours passing to ask if I wanted to go back and see him. So I picked up the heavy bag and went back to the room he was in. When getting to the room I could see he was laying on the bed with a machine hooked up to him and an IV drip. Before stepping in his room, two police officers walked up, stopped me and asked to see what was in the bag. I told them that it wasn't mine and was Richards. All the same, they opened up the bag and I was baffled at what was inside.

“What the hell..” I said in disbelief.
Inside the blue duffle bag that I had struggled to carry for two miles, was a half of a cinder block, a mangled wire coat hanger, rusted brake drum and an old torn up phone book.

“Are you serious Richard?!” I yelled.
“You mean I carried that junk around for two miles for you??” I fumed.
“Yeah, that's my stuff.” Richard grumbled indignantly. The two police officers zipped the bag back closed and walked away laughing. About an hour later Richard's brother and sister had arrived to see him and they thanked me and offered me a ride back to the mission, which I accepted. It was past dinnertime when I had arrived back at the mission and the people who worked there allowed me to come in because I had taken someone up to a hospital. Later on that night I received a voice mail from Richard who thanked me for saving his life and sounded a lot better than he did earlier that day. Apparently he had some kind of a salt deficiency where he was supposed to get a shot every so often or something along those lines. After that I never talked to or saw Richard again.

∞
The next day during the early afternoon there was only a few people in the mission at that time. A tall white guy with a good build walked in up to the front desk of the mission and was talking to one of the workers for a few minutes. Then the Mission worker turned to a group of us.

“Who wants to work? When need 5 for some landscaping work..” he asked.
I rushed over to the desk and so did about ten other people. The guy who came in looked at us, pointed out five, luckily one of them was me. He said that he would be by the next morning at around seven to pick us up and told us to dress warm. Then he said the pay was ten dollars an hour and it would be hard yard work. I was so relieved to have some kind of job, even though temporary, so I was pretty happy. A few other people had heard we got hired for the job and got jealous, walked off cussing. I just tried to hide my smile as being one of the lucky ones who got picked.
The next morning had arrived and I was ready to go out and do some hard work. I didn't really know how long the job would last but was hoping it would be something that turned into a long term gig. The man had arrived bringing with him one of his hired workers, he was a tall black guy with a similar build. The worker stepped out and told the people to get in the quad cab truck. There were five of us standing around the truck then more people started to walk up asking to go and that they needed work too. The man got out and told the older guys to sit in the cab and that me and the other
young guy, who was black that we had to sit in the back of the truck because we were young and there was no room left in the cab. At this point other people were trying to climb into the truck that weren't suppose to be going and for a minute or two this caused a bit of chaos. The sight was quite surreal almost dystopic. It was like even though we lived in the richest country on the planet there for a moment it had become very third world. The man told the extras to leave saying he already had more than enough people. Me and the other guy got into the back of the truck and we were on our way. The guy who was in the back with me turned and said:

“I was about to start throwing elbows there for a minute, I need this money!” with desperation clear in his voice.
“Yeah that was pretty crazy, I never seen anything like that, this economy is shit man.” I acknowledged, shaking my head.
“I just need to get back to Idaho, I got stuck here while visiting my parents that I haven't seen since I was a little kid.” he said.
“Idaho? Damn you are quite far from home!” I said surprised because he was black and Idaho seemed like a place where only old white farmers lived and grew potatoes.

“What's your name man?” I asked.
“Curtis.. what's yours?”
“Stefan.” I answered.
We shook hands upon introductions, and both sat looking out at the traffic passing us as the truck drove on down the road. We had to go onto the highway and the vehicle was going pretty fast at this point. To our dismay the driver brake checked a few times which made us hit our heads against the back glass of the cab. We cussed a little bit even though to someone else it may have been funny; it was at our expense. Curtis and I, talked a little bit and he told me about the different places he's been and the mountains. Idaho was apparently his home state, it was interesting to talk to someone from that side of the country. I told him that this was the first time I rode in the back of a truck and he proceeded to talk about a time he jumped in the back of a truck as a stowaway, laying down flat until miles later he was caught. I asked him about the large scar on his face and he said he got it when he was real young from a bad knife fight. I then asked him:

“So you came from Idaho to meet your parents here in this town?”
“Yeah... so its been years since I saw them and we had been talking over the phone for awhile. They seemed pretty nice and I really wanted to see them because I just got engaged and would like them to be in my life again when I get married. So I left Idaho and brought enough money with me so I could get back. I got here and then things got pretty bad...” he lamented, casting down his gaze. “Damn... so what happened?” I inquired further.

“Well, it turns out my parents are actually crack heads and just wanted money from me. They told me I had to give them money or we would all be out on the streets, so I went and tried to get a job for awhile so I could pay my way back. They pretty much smoked up the money and then kicked me out onto the streets.” he explained almost as if wincing from pain.

“I mean what kind of parents are that? I should have never left Idaho so now I'm stuck and just want to go home.” he added.
“That's screwed up man, sorry to hear that.” I responded, also shaking my head in disbelief that someone's own parents would do that to someone.
It got quiet after some time as the city warehouses and shops were now fields of green and small quaint towns. I read a sign that said 'Richfield' and the roads became winding and went through some woodland areas. The land was very nice out there, it was a beautiful part of Ohio. We had now just turned onto a road and then into a long gravel lot with a shed at the end of it. Everyone got out of the truck after we came to a stop. Apparently this was where they kept the lawn equipment, so we hooked up a trailer with the gear and then headed back onto the road. About fifteen minutes and a few sudden stops later, to Curtis and my annoyance, we arrived at a big house with a nice yard. We all got out and the man who had hired us went inside while his worker told us to do different tasks. I had to rake leaves others had to do mulch and one guy just went around picking up sticks. I enjoy doing yard work although it can be hard at times it just seems like fulfilling and honest hard work. The day went on and we were all working, some harder than others which upset the man who hired us. But at the same time I was thinking to myself, what did he expect from people he hired out of a homeless shelter. I was working fast and efficiently as was Curtis and another black guy who had a decent build on him, his name was Dallas. The other two, one a middle aged White guy with a Nascar hat he wore all the time and the fat black guy who was panting every two steps were slacking.
Finally, lunchtime was here. The owner had grilled up some hot dogs and hamburgers which his wife had fixed up for us. The owner talked about how he was a veteran Army Ranger and talked about God and the Bible which to us fell mostly on deaf ears. I don't think we really cared too much about the pep talk just wanted to earn a wage but nonetheless in the spirit of politeness we nodded in agreement to what he said. We ate our meals and continued working the rest of the day, occasionally hearing the owner's worker telling the other people who were slacking to pick up the pace and work harder. When it was over we received our pay and was taken back to the mission and the other guys told us to get in the back of the truck again since we were the young ones. Before I left I got the owner's phone number and told him I would call and see if he had work from time to time after this job. Curtis got his money and was happy to see if he could afford to get a ticket to go back home. The owner also gave us each a ticket to the Cavaliers game but I didn't see the sense in how I would be able to make it to a game in up in Cleveland when I am homeless. But nonetheless I accepted in hopes that I could sell it later. We drove back to the mission and all went inside for dinner, many people were asking us if there were any more people the guy needed. We sternly replied 'No' to their disappointment.

The next day came and the guy never showed up, I called him and he said that his worker finished up the yard and that he might need two or three more people at a new job soon and that he would keep in touch. I was talking to Curtis about seeing if he wanted to do that job with me and while I was talking to him the middle aged guy that wore a Nascar hat, was around the corner and overheard our conversation. He told the other guys that we worked with that day about the conversation he heard. Later that day we all sat down for lunch, with the people that trickled in I sat down towards the front of the room. To my surprise Dallas sat next to me coldly glancing over.

“Hey, heard you were trying to cut the rest of us out of the work.” he menaced.
“I don't know what your talking about.” I lied.
“Yeah mother fucker, you better watch your back.” he warned.
“Whatever man” I murmured.
He got up and walked away, I didn't care what they thought because I knew they were just blowing their money on drugs and in my perception I could actually use the work more than them. I later called up the owner and told him what happened. The man sounded pretty upset and said he wasn't going to hire anyone there anymore. 'Damn' I thought to myself. Later on I found out that Curtis eventually found a Church that would pay for half of his bus fare to get him back home and he paid the other half. That was the last time I saw him.

I met up with Chewy and we decided to get a beer and go under the bridge and drink for a while after lunch. I chuckled to myself finding it comical how he wore shorts everywhere; I never saw the man wearing pants. We walked down to under the bridge after he bought the beer for me and started drinking. A guy named Joey came by that Chewy knew, who was short and looked Irish. He asked for a drink of Chewy's beer and Chewy gave him it. He took a swig and a half then handed it back to him. At this point Joey's brother Eddie who looked pretty similar to him came walking around. He started screaming at me and Chewy.

“What the hell are you doing mother fuckers! You give my brother back his beer!” he said in drunken rage.
He started to scream and holler in our faces despite me, Chewy and even his brother trying to explain to him that it was our beer. He must have been pretty drunk or high on something pretty extreme. Chewy then started to cower and said just to take the beer and be cool. Eddie got in my face and even though he was shorter than me he just seemed really wirey and I wasn't sure if he was armed or not. Then right when I think there's about to be a fight this skinny tall black guy came around named 'Tee' and broke it up. Eddie still kept insisting on fighting then Tee got in his face and started screaming back at him. Eventually things wound down and Eddie and Joey left.

“Yeah way to stick up for me Chewy.” I said sarcastically.
“I can't get into any trouble I have two years on the shelf man.” he said.
Tee came over to us and I told him thanks and shook his hand for sticking up for me. We all finished our beers and smoked cigarettes and the mood brightened up a bit. I found out that Tee was Gay and then decided to make it clear that I was in no way shape or form Gay. He wasn't the type you could tell was Gay, he wore work boots and looked like a construction worker. I thought it was odd for him to have a confederate flag tattoo on his arm which I pointed out and asked him jokingly what that was all about. He said it was about 'heritage' which baffled me. Chewy had told me that it was the 27th of the month and that a certain restaurant gave out free samples
of Chicken and a side or biscuit on that day. So we all decided to go up there and get some food because the mission's food wasn't nearly as good as this would be. Brendan came with us also, we got there and got our food and sat down. It was the first time I had some decent food in awhile so I was happy. We told the cashier that we were homeless and they gave us an extra biscuit then shortly afterwards we scarfed down our meal and headed back to the mission. Chewy said that we only had a few minutes before we would be locked out and then he and Brendan started jogging to the mission and I decided to walk fast.
After a while I had arrived at the mission and saw the door close behind Chewy and Brendan, 'damn' I thought to myself, 'hopefully they will still let me in after all I was only a minute late'. I knocked on the door to no answer then walked around the side of the building and into the front door. There was one of the mission workers there waiting for me who had one of those pencil thin mustaches and a sweater vest with dark blue dress pants.
“Hey, I'm sorry I am just a minute late.” I said hoping he would let me in.

“I am sorry, we can't let you in..” He said folding his arms.
“Why not … I am only just a minute late!” I said now getting upset.
“Sorry, can't let you in..” This time he smiled.
I was disturbed by the way he had smiled and how the dim light reflected off of his face it gave me the impression that this man was evil. Why were these people so cold.. I thought they were Christians after all?

“Yeah, some kind of a Church this is.. I will kick the dust off my feet before I leave this place..” I said as I walked out, semi quoting the Bible in a spirited disdain.
“Well, don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.” I could hear him sneering behind me.
Depression had set in at this time and personally I didn't have a clue what I was going to do. I had no place to stay and once had heard that if you were kicked out of the mission you had to wait sixty days before getting back in. It was a dark state of mind that led me to the bridge that was near the park which was on the side of where the mission was. There was a trail from the edge of the park that went down to some railroad tracks which passed underneath the bridge. And there on a concrete slab, a wooden box made out of an old wooden pallet, a blanket crudely hung draped over half of it. Inside there was nobody in there just a blanket over some grocery bags stuffed with newspapers; a crude makeshift bedding that was stained and smelled like old beer, piss and stale cigarettes. There was also small few pieces of charred wood laying in front of it which was a fire that whoever had occupied this space had probably lit to keep warm on the cold nights. I sat down on a large smooth stone against the concrete wall of the bridge. The night was beginning to creep in and so was the cold. All I had on was this brown leather jacket and it just wasn't enough to keep me warm. I decided to crawl into the pallet board shelter, scooting away the empty beer bottles I curled up into a ball and used my duffle bag as a pillow. There I was on the side of the railroad tracks, all alone looked like nothing more that a piece of debris. I had hit rock bottom.
Shivering and curled up in a ball, thoughts came into my head about the better times in my life. I thought about Anna for the rest of the night, all our conversations we had that went into the nights even falling asleep on the phone together. I remembered a day when were still talking, I had woke up and my phone was still on and I could hear here softly breathing as she was asleep. We had longed to be with each other, and wished we could fall asleep in each others arms. I never knew love in my life, it had eluded me. And when we talked and told each other how we felt; I knew I couldn't love another. The distance had been a divide to us, and now that I was just 20 miles away there could be a chance I can get back the girl I loved.
My mind drifted off into the fond memories; the better times. A single tear rolled down my face. So close yet so far away; and with that thought I closed my eyes amidst the shivers and fell asleep wishing I was somewhere else.