Thrown-Away People; James

 

NOTE.  This is a piece from many years ago.  My selfishness is still a work in progress.  This re-write is mainly for my benefit.

For most of my younger life I lived selfishly taking whatever I wanted from whomever I wanted it from. Along the way I dismissed and discarded many people. Guilt and awareness have compelled me to write a series of works entitled Thrown-Away People. Although all the people involved are fictional, this is a dedication and an apology to all those people that I have thrown away. I hope I never turn my back again.


James felt the cold rain cut through to his skin. It was only October but some mornings in the northeast were cold. Adding that slow drizzle made him chilled all the way to his soul. How he wished he could climb into a soft warm bed. Everything was wonderful when his dad was still alive. Saturday mornings he would climb into bed with his parents and he would watch cartoons while they read the morning paper. He loved rainy days. They would stay cuddling in bed longer, just absorbing the warmth from each other. That was ages ago. That was a lifetime ago. Man, that was a different lifetime ago. Can't think about that now. He needed to get moving. It was Thursday and this was the morning that the Food Shop grocery store threw away all their outdated packaged goods. James knew that he needed to get there before the garbage truck did. He hadn't eaten since Tuesday and he was feeling that dull ache pounding in his stomach.

You had to be careful though. If they caught you digging in their dumpster they would chase you swinging sticks, bats or broom handles. A couple weeks ago one of the Food Shop employees had connected with a broom handle. Smacked him right upside his head. Man did that hurt. The blood streaked down his face and mixed with the dirt caked against the side of his face. You got dirty dumpster diving.

They helped him at the Capital City Mission. Cleaned and dressed it with antibiotics and some gauze. They wanted him to stay overnight but he knew better than that. Unless you had a buddy, you ended up waking up with all your stuff gone. He learned that last winter when the temperature got so cold that he had to find someplace warm. By morning not only was his jacket gone, so were his shoes. The shelter had given him some replacements but they were 3 sizes too big and very ragged.

It was hard finding places with heat. Public places were now heavily patrolled by the police. The last time he tried to get warm in the bus station he got to take a little ride with the city’s finest. They carried him to the city line and as they started their u-turn, one officer opened the back door and pushed him out. Although the car wasn’t going too fast, he hit the ground pretty hard, scraped his face and tore a few holes in his pants. He could handle the pain but he had just gotten those pants at the Salvation Army. Two days earlier he had been at the exit ramp from the highway holding up his sign that said that he would work for food or money. A nice lady had stopped and asked him if he really was willing to do some work. James remembered mumbling, "Yes ma'am". She unlocked the front door and asked him to get in. Instead of taking him to a work site, she took him to the Salvation Army store and bought him two pairs of pants, two shirts, some underwear, socks and a pair of shoes! Everything was his size. This was better than any Christmas he remembered as a kid.

She even drove through a burger joint and bought him dinner. He kept wondering how much work he would need to do to earn all that she had given him. The next thing he knew she had driven back to the exit ramp and was handing him a $20 bill. James was confused and tried to ask her about the work she wanted him to do. She smiled and waved him off, saying goodbye, pulling the door shut and then driving away.

He felt brand new in his clothes and started back to his hideaway down by the lumber warehouse. He could still see her smile. It was the same smile his mom gave him when he was younger. He thought of the time he brought home his pottery project. He had worked on it all week in art class. It was a blue flower pot. He painted it blue because that was the color of his mom's eyes. He had wrapped it in some pretty paper and couldn't wait to give it to her for Mother's Day. He had even made a card. When she opened it she smiled at him just like that lady had. He smiled back feeling proud until he heard her mom and dad arguing later that evening. He crept down the hall and peaked into their room. He watched in horror as his mom shoved the pottery in his dad's face and said, "Look at this crap! Your son is as incompetent as you are!" He watched as she smashed it against the wall. As he watched the pot shatter and the small blue pieces scatter across the carpet, he felt his heart shatter too.

He cried himself to sleep. Tears soaked his pillow. His sobs muffled by its softness and by the darkness that surrounded him. That was the last time he ever cried. He didn't even cry when they found his dad's body two days later in the driver's seat of his car. The key was on but the car had run out of gas hours earlier. They didn't want him to see what happened but he peered into the garage from the side door. He could see that all the windows of the car were still open and that somebody had stuffed towels under the door frames.

He didn't cry whenever his mom slapped him over the next few years. She drank a bit too much and would scream at him telling him that his dad killed himself because he was such a fuck-up. He could feel the pain as her hand smacked his cheek. He could see his dad still sitting in the driver's seat. He had turned gray. There was no color to his skin and even his hair, which had been jet black, had lost its luster. He could have been watching an old black and white movie.

He pulled the black garbage bag tighter against his body. It helped keep the cold drizzle from soaking any deeper into his soul. The grocery store was across the shopping center parking lot. Numb from the cold and numb from all those empty stares, he hardly noticed the way that people looked at him anymore. Some people simply stared at him as he crossed the lot. Some he knew would spit on him if he got close enough. Most simply turned their backs and pretended that he wasn't even there.

The grocery store dumpster was along the back of the building. James dove into the shadows along the side of the store and kept as quiet as he could. At least the rain would keep most people in a hurry and he could probably get some food before being chased away. He walked by trash scattered by the wind. He had even tried to get a job with this store. He suggested that he could keep all this trash cleaned up as well as all their carts handy for their customers. James didn't understand it. The manager looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

Oh, well. I wouldn't hire me either, he thought as he stopped and picked up a handful of the debris. Luckily nobody was around when he got to the dumpster. James lifted up the lid, tossed his armful of garbage in and quickly followed it. He was in luck. There were about a dozen crushed boxes of donuts, crackers and dried spaghetti. He would at least eat today.