The Stranger

Rain drenched the city. A man in a trench coat and baseball cap, but no umbrella, walked across the slick city streets against the flow of the crowd. Joel’s teeth chattered as he looked at all the faces walking towards him, shadowed by their black umbrellas. He took several deep breaths.

When he came to an alleyway between two tall buildings, he quickly turned away from the crowds and walked into the alley. He leaned against the brick wall, closed his eyes, and took some deep breaths. 

“You okay?” asked a gravelly voice. 

Joel opened his eyes with a start. Against the brick wall opposite him was an elderly man sitting on the ground in the corner formed by the dumpster and the building. The stranger was huddled under a black, plastic garbage bag. He was shivering violently, water dripping from his grizzled grey beard, and he looked up at Joel with deep, brown eyes. Thunder rolled above them, Joel relaxed.

“I struggle with crowds,” Joel said. Then he put his hands in his coat pockets and stepped over to the stranger. “Do you have a dry place to stay?”

The stranger bit his lip in thought, and looked around on the ground as if the answer were there somewhere. Then he looked back up at Joel and said, “I don’t know. I got lost, and then it started raining. I thought it would be best to wait out the rain here.” 

Joel offered the stranger his hand. “Come with me,” he said, “and you can wait out the storm in my dry apartment.” The stranger looked at Joel a moment, then took his hand and stood, leaving his plastic garbage bag behind. 

The two men walked out of the alley in silence, and walked back up the street the way Joel had come. They continued silently into Joel’s building, and up the five flights of stairs to his floor. 

“I’m here,” Joel finally said. They stopped in front of a wooden door with the brass numbers 535. He fished out his keys and unlocked the door. The stranger looked around curiously as they entered and Joel locked the door behind them.

The entryway was small and led to the living room. There was a black leather sofa with some worn patches, and a lamp in the corner next to the back windows overlooking the residents of the building across the street. A short Ikea bookcase spanned the length of the floor underneath the windows. On top of that a dozen or so framed pictures of people. A framed folded American flag was sitting among the pictures. The bottom shelf was full of thick, colorful books with cartoon animals and characters on the spines, and in another corner was a wicker basket filled with children’s toys. All over the walls were more framed pictures of the same people, all the way to the entryway where the two men stood.

“Welcome,” Joel said. He took off his trench coat, put it on a hanger from the coat closet, and walked into the bathroom. He hung it up on one of three bars he had rigged to span the width of his bathtub from the shower curtain to the wall. His trench coat then dripped into the tub. His baseball cap he hung on a metal peg at the back of the tub. When he returned to his guest, the stranger was dripping all over the floor as he stared at one of the pictures in the entryway. 

“Here, let me take your coat, and I’ll hang it up,” Joel said, grabbing another hanger. He hung up the stranger’s coat next to his own. Before returning to the entryway, he went into his room and opened his closet. He grabbed some jeans, a T-Shirt, a worn leather belt, and a pair of white underwear. When he came back, the stranger was still looking at the pictures on the wall in the entryway.

“Recognize someone?” Joel asked.

The stranger squinted a little looking at the picture and said, “Not sure. This your family?”

“Yessir,” Joel said, shifting the clothes in his arms so he could point to each person in the most recent family photo.

“This is my dad,” he said. “He was a big cowboy, and my mom, she passed away about four years ago. This here is me, I’m the oldest, and then my two little sisters. Janessa, who is in Dallas working as a graphic designer for an advertising agency, and Rema, who is in LA pursuing a dream of being a screenwriter.” The stranger nodded approvingly, still looking at the photo. Joel smiled. 

“Here, I brought you some dry clothes,” Joel said. The stranger finally turned and looked at Joel, who handed him the pile. “These belonged to an old roommate of mine, and I just haven’t gotten rid of them yet. But I think they might be just about your size. Don’t worry, the whitey-tighties are clean. I-uh-I just took them out of the bag. My roommate left those too.” The stranger lifted the greying underwear and examined it doubtfully. Joel cleared his throat. 

“You can change in the bathroom. Feel free to use whatever towel you find to dry off. And when you’re done, go ahead and have a seat in the dining room over there.” He pointed toward a doorway on the other side of the living room. The stranger nodded. “Meanwhile, I will dry off in my bedroom, and then I’ll make some soup for us both to enjoy and to help warm us up.” The stranger gave a weak smile, and then turned and entered the bathroom.

A few moments later, all the wet clothes were hanging in the bathroom, dripping into the tub, and both men were in the kitchen/dining room while Joel stirred a pot filled with two cans of Progresso Beef Pot Roast with Country Vegetables. The stranger looked around the kitchen. The linoleum was old and coming up in a couple corners. The appliances were also not recent additions. On the counter sat a bright red panini maker, a blender, and a small basket of fresh fruit--apples, bananas, and oranges. Hanging from the oven handle was a brightly colored hand towel with a barn and a rooster on it.

“Nice towel,” the stranger said while Joel stirred the soup. Joel looked at the towel and smiled.

“Yeah, that’s a special towel,” he said. “It’s from the home I grew up in. Like I said, my dad was a big cowboy fan, and he loved ranches and farms and the agricultural life. So much of our home décor reflected that.”

“So your dad was a rancher, or farmer?”

“No, he was a brilliant mechanical engineer actually. The cowboy thing was more of a hobby, or a break from his daily grind, that our whole family partook in. My sisters and I all got riding lessons, and more than one family vacation was spent traveling to Texas for the state fair.” 

“Well, they do know how to do it there in Texas,” the stranger said. 

Joel nodded as he turned the soup off. 

“My dad also liked old World War II films,” Joel said, getting two bowls from a cupboard and setting them on the table. “My sisters and I can still quote lines and scenes from ‘The Great Escape,’ ‘Midway,’ ‘The Dirty Dozen’ and a plethora of others.”

The stranger nodded again. “It sounds like I would have liked your father.”

Joel smiled, putting glasses in front of the bowls. “Yeah, I think you two would have gotten along very well.” 

“Is that flag for your father?” the stranger asked, pointed towards the bookshelf in the living room.

“That? No, that’s mine,” Joel said. “All those war movies apparently had an effect on me, and I ended up joining the marines when I was old enough.” Joel placed spoons on the table. “That flag flew over the base I was stationed at in Afghanistan on September 11th of the year I was there. My parents had it framed after I got home.”

“Well, thank you for your service,” the stranger said. Joel just smiled awkwardly and nodded.

“I usually eat this soup with some slices of bread with butter on them, would you like any?” Joel asked.

“Yeah, that sounds really good,” said the stranger perking up a little. Joel smiled and opened the fridge. He pulled out a half loaf of whole wheat bread and some butter.

“So, where is your father now?” the stranger asked. “Is he retired or something?” Joel put the bread and butter on the table.

“Or something,” Joel said. He turned and went to the silverware drawer again, pulling out a knife.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” The stranger said as Joel put the knife on the table. Then the stranger reached over and put his hand on Joel’s. His deep brown eyes staring up at Joel.

“He will always be there with you, even if you can’t see him,” the stranger said. “I know that for a fact.” Joel smiled a sad smile. 

“Thank you,” he said, walking back to the stove. “He’s not actually dead, but for all intents and purposes, he is gone.” Joel grabbed a cork hot pad from beside the stove, and then picked up the pot and returned to the table.

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” Joel said, putting down the cork hot pad and setting the pot on it. “We often talk about that. How people who have passed on to the next life are somehow with us still.” He sat down across from the stranger. “But we rarely talk about those who have not passed on to the next life physically, but mentally they aren’t the same person any more. It’s like the person they were is dead, and a stranger has taken over their body.”

The stranger nodded knowingly. “In many ways, that’s harder than just saying goodbye,” he said. 

Joel looked at the stranger without a word. Then he scooted his chair in more and asked,  “Do you mind if we say grace?”

“It’s your home, do as you please,” the stranger said. They both bowed their heads, and Joel began.

“Father in Heaven, we thank thee for this warm food, and for the chance we have to enjoy it together. Thank you for the safety we both have received tonight. We ask thee to bless this food, and please watch over my guest here. Continue to bless him with safety and health. Amen.”

The stranger looked up at him. “Thank you,” he said. Joel smiled as he ladled some soup into their bowls. 

“Beef stew is my dad’s favorite, you know,” Joel said, buttering a slice of bread and handing it to the stranger.

“A good beef stew is hard to beat,” said the stranger, dipping his bread into the stew. “There’s just something about meat, potatoes, and carrots that helps remind a man of where he came from. That there was once a day when such dishes were a staple of everyday life.”

“Yeah, that’s one reason my dad liked cowboys,” Joel said with a mouthful of bread. He swallowed. “He said that was a time when,” Joel made his voice deeper and sound like a movie announcer, “men were men, they knew what integrity was, and they knew the joy of a body aching with a full day’s hard labor.” Joel coughed and drank some water. The stranger chuckled a little.

“What does he do with himself now, in his ‘or something’?” The stranger asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Joel said. “I know he likes where he’s at, but he has always had this wanderlust, like a wild mustang that has been corralled. And sometimes he just needs some time away from it all.”

The stranger nodded his characteristic nod. “I know that feeling,” he said, dipping a second piece of buttered bread into his bowl. 

“His engineering background has made it so that this mustang seems to understand every corral it is put into, and seems to find a way out no matter what,” Joel said between bites of soup.

The stranger paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. Then he set the spoon back into his bowl. He looked up at Joel.

“That is a serious call there,” the stranger said. “You gotta respect when that call comes. If you keep him locked up too tightly, he’ll most likely die from the panic of it all.”

“Oh, there’s no disrespecting that call,” Joel said, eating the last spoonful of soup in his bowl. “He will get out no matter what we do. So, when he does, I go find him, we spend some time together, and I take him back until the next time the call comes. That's why I’m here.”

“Here in the city? This apartment?” the stranger asked.

“All of it,” Joel replied. “My dad’s old enough he needed some extra help. I had just started being a part-time dad, and was in a position to easily move closer to him to offer that extra help. And my sisters could stay put with their families and careers.”

The stranger nodded as he wiped out his empty bowl with a piece of bread. Then he gave Joel a quizzical look. “Part-time dad?”

Joel looked down and started scraping gravy from his bowl. “Yeah, after years of programs, drugs, and therapies, my PTSD was much better, but I still have some triggers that won’t go away.”

“Like crowds?” asked the stranger.

Joel nodded. “Yeah, like crowds. So, right now the best solution is I live separately, and my wife and kids come visit me regularly.” There was no more gravy in Joel’s bowl, but he kept scraping at it. “I have my robots I tinker with, and a check from Uncle Sam each month -- I’m considered 100% disabled -- and I meet up with my dad every so often. It’s not what I planned, it’s not the ideal, but it’s what I got.” Joel finally looked up at the stranger, who was staring at him. “And it’s a lot better than it could have been.”

Joel stuck his spoon in his mouth and pulled it out clean of any gravy that might have still been there. Then he dropped it into his glass bowl with a clank.

“Well, I am full, and much warmer now,” Joel said. “How about you?”

The stranger blinked his eyes, cleared his throat, and looked down at his empty bowl. “Uh-um, yeah, yeah. I’m done. That was delicious. Thank you for your hospitality tonight.”

Joel looked at the stranger earnestly. “It was my pleasure,” he said with a smile. Then he grabbed his bowl and stood up. He walked to the sink and put his dishes in.

“I know a shelter nearby that you can stay at for the night,” Joel said, returning to the table. “Because I doubt you want to crash on my sofa.” 

“Oh, no,” the stranger said. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be, and a real bed would be incredible.” The stranger stood up and walked to the front door while Joel finished clearing the table. When Joel joined him, the stranger was pulling on his grey rattlesnake skin boots and Joel had a black garbage bag in hand.

“I’m going to put your wet clothes in here for transportation purposes,” he told the stranger. “And then the ladies at the shelter will take care of them from there, if that’s alright with you.” The stranger nodded. “And go ahead and keep these clothes.” Joel said, disappearing into the bathroom. He returned moments later with a much fuller plastic bag. 

Joel led the stranger to the parking garage where his orange manual transmission 1994 Honda Accord was parked. In no time they were out on the road. The rain was just a drizzle now, but traffic was still slow. 

They traveled in silence once again. Each lost in thought. The stranger picked at his hands. Joel sighed deeply as he maneuvered through the streets. Eventually, they drove past a sign that read, “Forest Village Lifecare Community,” and Joel pulled into the parking lot behind the sign. They both got out of the car. The stranger looked at the large white buildings and neatly trimmed lawns.

“Whoa,” he said. “This is the nicest shelter I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Joel smiled with a soft laugh. “Come on, I’ll show you to Julie.”

They walked through a pair of sliding glass doors, and met a woman standing at a white desk. She was in her late 40’s and obviously dyed her hair red. She smiled when she saw them walking toward her.

“Evening Julie,” Joel said. 

“Well, hello again, Joel,” she responded. 

“I was wondering if you might have some room here tonight for my friend,” Joel indicated the stranger, who smiled sheepishly.

Julie smiled a toothy grin. “I think we can work something out for him,” she said. Then she turned and called down a side hallway, “Jim! Can you come escort our guest? I believe room 275 is currently vacant.” A man about Joel’s age, but with a much larger chest and biceps, appeared out of the hall. He looked at the stranger and smiled kindly. 

“Follow me, sir,” he said. The stranger quickly turned to Joel, and grabbed Joel’s hands.

“Thank you for all the care you have given me tonight,” he said. “I will never forget it.” Joel smiled and nodded as his eyes began to well up. Then Jim led the stranger out of the lobby and down the hall.

Joel sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve as he watched the stranger and Jim get into the elevator. The stranger smiled and waved at Joel as the doors closed. Joel waved back with a smile, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Bye,” Joel said softly. “Dad.”