Soul City

It was mid-November, and she remembered it was her birthday. Well, it might be, she wasn’t sure. There would be no party, no gifts, nary a celebratory gesture from anyone; after all she was alone, with one exception. She pulled the tiny satchel from under her tattered jacket and reached inside. She was sure there were a few cookies left in the package from yesterday. It wasn’t much but it would sustain them until later. She felt the sting of her tears as she fed half of a cookie to her best friend and her reason for living, Maisie. A grateful lick on the hand and a little whine let her know Maisie didn’t hold their misfortune against her, but she knew they both deserved better. Looping the frayed length of rope around Maisie’s neck, she pulled herself to her feet, ran her fingers through her dirty stringy hair and set off for Times Square. 

Why was today seemingly more difficult to face than any other day?  Was it because of her birthday, or was she just tired and void of all hope? Maisie walked beside her, obedient and alert while she dreamed of a life impossible to attain. The past seven years had not been kind; each day a challenge to survive. She often questioned her decision to care for Maisie, but when she allowed herself to think of what would have become of the abandoned and abused pup, an unimaginable surge of dread and terror overwhelmed. Some semblance of life was surely better than the alternatives, wasn’t it? She marveled at Maisie’s ability to be grateful for the little they shared, for mere morsels of sustenance and the comfort she selflessly returned from frequent pats on the head and a few kind words. They were more alike than she cared to admit. 

As they approached the restrooms at the far end of the park, she heard a man’s voice call out, “Not too long in there, no loitering means just that!” The park security officer stood with his arms folded across his wide barrel chest. His grimace clearly illustrated his disdain for the likes of them and their kind. She wondered what was worse, being cursed with no home, or no heart? Cautiously, she passed the officer and entered the brick building with Maisie in tow. She lowered her eyes and hung her head, ashamed of his perception of her. Humanity played no part in her morning routine, being chastised for relieving herself and washing her face even before she entered the building. 

The water was exceptionally cold; refreshing and simultaneously uncomfortable. She filled a dirty plastic container and set it on the floor for Maisie to drink as she did her best to wash; fully clothed and from the sink. The liquid soap from the dispenser smelled of chemicals and as unpleasant as the aroma was, she was grateful they had been filled. Too many mornings brought disappointment from filthy toilets, wasted tissue, empty dispensers and broken faucets left behind by inconsiderate and entitled tourists, or drug-addled vandals, equally as inconsiderate. This day, the water and soap,cleansed and nourished and the stalls were adequately usable without fear of infection. Sadly, this is what she had become grateful for. She would have preferred a long hot shower, fluffy warm towels and new, clean clothes, but a hasty wash would have to suffice. She and Maisie headed for the exit just as the security officer stuck his bulbous head inside the door and bellowed, “Don’t make me come in there after you!”  Without a verbal or physical response, she and Maisie managed their way past the guard and set off to their daily destination. 

She was lucky, young girls with adorable puppies were the least likely to get chased off by the authorities and almost never found themselves being arrested for loitering and panhandling. How dire a notion that she considered that lucky.  She counted once, the number of kids begging in Times Square. There were at least twice as many as there were adults, and she lost count somewhere around forty, just within a three block radius. She found it best to sit with Maisie nearest the street and away from the shadows cast by the buildings. It wasn’t optimal for so many reasons but the exposure usually yielded enough of a haul to afford dinner for two from the bodega nearest the alley where they slept. She sat between the fire hydrant and an antiquated newspaper box which should have been decommissioned and removed years ago. Still, it sat serving as a reminder of days gone by when people actually read the paper. Its industrial yellow paint peeling and the rusted metal legs hardly holding it upright provided just enough camouflage for a slight teen and her undernourished dog. 

Neighbors by loose definition, she and Dan the street artist exchanged disingenuous smiles. He was always in the same spot, yet had little interest in her or Maisie, just trying to survive himself. How lovely it would be to have someone to talk to, someone to share a pretzel with, maybe? That someone would not be Dan; what a shame to waste a potential friend when they are so hard to come by and even harder to keep. Once, Dan voiced his opinion regarding Maisie being a potential customer deterrent, stating with conviction that some people are afraid of dogs and will keep walking at the site of her. His words hurt but she had some of her own. She reminded Dan of the noxious fumes emanating from the multitude of spray paint cans he used as his medium of choice. Not everyone will stand still and inhale the colorful clouds of pollutants just to purchase one of his creations. Maisie was the least of his excuses. 

She placed the warped plastic bowl in front of her and urged Maisie to lay down on her left. The gray and white pup obeyed, resting her head across her left knee. She reached over and stroked Maisie’s ears lovingly, and again the tears burned in her eyes. Seventeen today, it was confirmed, the date was indeed the fourteenth of the month. She let herself imagine going for her driving test, obtaining her license and driving her brand new car to her own surprise party. There would be music and more food than anyone could imagine. Friends and family members would shower her with expensive gifts from the very stores she wasn’t even allowed to peer into their windows without being immediately told to move along. Someone dropped a bill into their bowl. She looked up and whispered a thank you, wiping the tear that had escaped her eye and now hung awkwardly from the end of her nose. The first dollar of the day; she and Maisie could share a small bag of chips. 

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Minutes before the path train pulled into Penn Station, I handed my thirteen-year-old niece, Jade twenty dollars in singles. The small wad of dollar bills jammed into her jacket pocket were earmarked for the young panhandlers that always had Jade wanting to help in even a small way. She and I both knew a dollar wouldn't buy a warm, safe bed for the night or a nutritional meal, but we hoped it would make a difference for someone, somehow. She patted her pocket and took my hand as we exited the train and fought our way up the crowded stairs to the terminal which led to the street.  

“We have almost four hours before we need to be at the theater.” I reminded her. “Where would you like to go for lunch?” 

Jade jumped up and down. Maybe from the excitement of being in the city, or quite possibly to keep warm in the chilled November air. She reached up and adjusted the oversized cowboy style hat she had become attached to since Halloween. It was a defining piece not only to her costume, but the character she decided to portray. I took her word, as I admittedly was unfamiliar with the television series she faithfully followed. The hat served little purpose in keeping her head warm, but it looked so damn adorable and more importantly made her happy. 

“I don’t know yet, can we just walk for a while?” she asked, still hopping around the sidewalk. 

“Sure. We can always start with a little shopping, maybe the candy store?” I offered. 

Jade enthusiastically agreed and we set off toward Times Square. Despite her self proclaimed maturity, Jade held my hand as we walked. She wasn’t at all intimidated by the unique facets of the city, but the crowds could easily and inadvertently separate companions that weren’t strategically and physically linked together as they navigated the dense pedestrian traffic. I loved it, secretly hoping it would be years before she outgrew the gesture. As we walked, Jade regaled me with stories quite typical of middle school. I giggled at the similarities of my own angst at her age. Some things never change, like hormonal teens; mean girls and horny little boys. 

Jade stopped suddenly and tugged at my hand. I half expected her to request a bathroom break, but she simply gestured ahead with her eyes. There, not ten feet in front of us was a young woman sitting on the sidewalk between a fire hydrant and a rusted old coin operated newspaper dispenser. A gray and white pitbull mix lay beside her resting its head comfortably on her left knee. One look into my niece’s eyes was all I needed; giving her an agreeable nod as she approached the pair, I assumed we’d be delaying our trip to the candy store, for the time being. Jade let go of my hand and took another few steps forward. 

“I like your dog.” she offered. 

“I like your hat.” the girl responded, shielding her eyes with her right hand from the glare. 

Jade crossed her ankles and bent her knees, lowering her body to the sidewalk to sit next to the girl. She extended her hand, “I’m Jade.” 

The girl wiped her palm on her jeans before shaking Jade’s hand, “I’m Kari, and this is Maisie.” 

Jade asked politely if it was acceptable to pet Maisie before taking the pup’s face lovingly in her hands and giving the dog a proper rubdown, from the tip of her ears to the base of her neck. “She’s amazing.” 

“She’s my best friend. Honestly, she’s my only friend.” Kari confessed. She hesitated, then confided in Jade. “Today is my birthday.”

Jade looked up and without a word conveyed everything she was thinking. Again, I simply nodded. My niece didn’t wait for my approval, she knew she didn’t have to. Jade reached into her jacket and pulled the twenty singles from her pocket. She handed them to the young woman. “This is all I have.” she explained. “I hope it’s enough for both you and Maisie to eat tonight.”

Kari took the money and hastily tucked it away in her well-worn satchel. “Thank you.” 

Jade gave Maisie one last ear rub and a quick kiss on the nose. She leaned over and hugged Kari as if they’d known one another for years. “I have to go.” She stood and took my hand. Kari let an audible sob escape from her throat as she said good-bye. 

“Oh, one more thing.” my niece declared as she shed her hew suede jacket and handed it to Kari. “Happy Birthday.” 

Thank God for sunglasses as my own tears spilled from both eyes, unable to be suppressed. I gave my coat to Jade, draping it around her shoulders. It was at least five sizes too large, but all I could think was it was nowhere near large enough to protect her beautiful, warm heart.  We walked in silence for a few blocks. Jade lifted the brim of her ridiculous Halloween hat and asked, “Aunt Randi, aren’t you cold?” 

I couldn’t attempt to explain the phenomenon of inner warmth I was experiencing. My body refused to acknowledge the chilled air. However, Jade deserved a new jacket and I wanted nothing more than to keep her warm and have less to explain to her parents when I returned her. As luck would have it, we were passing a cute boutique catering to the young and trendy. “Let’s pop into this store and see what we can find.” 

As most teenage girls do; Jade immediately fell in love with a leather jacket that she simply could not live without. It was my pleasure, no, my honor to whip out my credit card and make it happen. She chose a matching scarf and placed two on the counter. I didn’t hesitate and paid for both. I knew she was hoping to see Kari and Maisie again on our way back to the train. We did not. 

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Last year I had a short story published in an anthology. The theme was unexpected, life changing events. I wrote about my time living on the island of Crete and was fortunate enough to be chosen for publication. Along with a small monetary award and bragging rights, a copy of the anthology was sent, free of charge. I spent days reading the works of authors, like myself who were privileged with publication. Some were thoughtful, some suspenseful, while others were stale and confusing. Still, my curiosity kept the pages turning. Late one night I came across a story that began with a young girl living on the streets of New York City with her dog. My heart skipped a beat, and I delved into the pages as if it would lead me to buried treasure. As I read, the words became all too familiar and I realized the miracle this woman wrote about was one I had personally witnessed many years ago. I called my niece, now twenty-one and read the last paragraph to her. 

“Minutes before Jade sat down, right there on the sidewalk next to me, I made a decision to end my life. I worried for Maisie and almost asked that little girl to take her and care for her as I could no longer. I spent that morning planning my last day, ending my pain and essentially taking the easy way out of an impossible life. I had lost my faith and my will to go on any longer than to find someone to take Maisie. Then, this little miracle in a crazy hat sat with me as if I were her lifelong friend. She genuinely cared for my well being like no other human had ever before. I took it as a sign, from God maybe? The Universe? A Guardian Angel? I cared not who sent the message through this beautiful, selfless soul, only that I was chosen to receive it.” 

-Kari Walker