Resurrected Witness

The view from my penthouse pales in comparison to the breathtaking majesty of the Italian countryside. God’s country. Gréve, Italy.  Abundant grapes line the countryside, defining infinite rows.  Lush hillsides roll, lazily, climbing to the clouds, where lanky, emerald firs reach towards Heaven.  Clumps of dry, brown earth peek through a green carpet, lightly dust my feet, powdering the cracks between my toes.  Only my sleek, Bruno Magli’s hint of my fast-paced lifestyle back home.  Soon, I’ll leave all traces of my City life behind, maybe except for the time before I met Collette and Noah -- that past defines my very existence.   Now, I’m teetering between New York City minutes and Gréve’s state of grace.  Balance. I need balance. Italy restores the delicacy of the dance.  It always does.

The night Collette stumbled over me in the gutter altered my reality.  Not because she and her boyfriend ripped me from my nightmarish haze, but because she apologized.  Her life changed, too, because she saw me through her soulful eyes.  They were kind, nonjudgmental eyes - different.   After all, I was just another homeless vagrant who interrupted the click of her Jimmy Choos  on the New York City street.  No…  The sounds of her clacks and taps made music on the pavement, even in their pause – a rest written into what would become the symphony of my new life.  Even her companion, Noah, stopped to help, instead of hurrying her along towards expected bliss.  Another interval amidst the crescendo of my chaos.  

“I’m so sorry – I didn’t see...  Noah - ” Collette requested.

“I know.  Let’s help her up.  What is your name?” His sturdy six-foot frame towered over my frail and crumpled body.  His touch, gentle and so foreign to my desecrated skin, contradicted my filth, my own revulsion for myself.  “Collette, I don’t know if she can speak.  She must be freezing. It’s below zero tonight.” His clear, green eyes sparkled with emotion in the moonlight.

“We’re only two blocks away from the hotel-  Listen, miss, can you walk with us?  Let us help you.”  Collette’s words seemed unreal to me; after all, this couple seemed to be just like every other young, wealthy twosome, walking through midtown after an evening of $100 filet mignons and $20 martinis.  Of course I could speak, but the shock of their kindness prevented any words from forming.  Were they really talking to me?  I had always been so alone with my thoughts.  Resolutely determining things would be different soon.  

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Thwarted by melancholy.  Dejected.  Alone.  Only Collette’s faith restored my strength.  After all, my desire to flirt with happiness eluded me for so long, until her kindness and Noah’s respect for life provided me comfort. They took me to their lodging for the evening as if I were their prodigal best friend.  I allowed myself to anticipate long forgotten riches while we walked – cleanliness, a soft bed, crisp sheets, heat - treasures that most people take for granted in their commonplace.   Could the possibility of returned simplicity, of mundane moments, ever heal my soul?  The crackling fire warmed my freezing body that night in their hotel room. This same body almost claimed by winter’s breath tempting me towards a better hell than life on the streets.  Noah’s gentle wisdom replaced my not so naïve disappointment.  His compassion fed my spirit. Collette’s humanity restored my sense of self and promised me hope.  The strangers’ eyes touched my heart.  

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“I’m Collette, and this is Noah, my fiancé.  Can you tell us your name?”  Understandably, Collette was still convinced of my muteness. It seemed strange to me, how Collette spoke to me as if I were the same as she. I was usually lucky if people stepped over me instead of on me.  But apparently, Collette was one of a kind, radiant in her beauty. Everything about my interactions with Collette and Noah were different.  “My name is Kalaya. Kalaya Jacquelynn Lavery.” I finally responded.

“Wow - What a striking name.”  She continued to speak to me as if we were long, lost friends.

“Thanks. But it’s no more striking than the fact that you brought me here.  That’s pretty unusual, you know, for people to take an interest in a vagabond.” I tried to stop the sarcasm from seeping through my words. Immediately, her dark eyes turned away in sadness.  “Sorry, that sounded all wrong. You’ve been very kind.”

“Don’t worry about it.  It probably is kind of weird that we brought you here, but I couldn’t leave you out there.  It’s bitter outside.  I don’t want to get too personal, but do you mind if I ask if you have anyone to help you?”  Innocently asked.

My initial response was to scream at her. To say, yes, sure - my family lives in a mansion on a hill, but I chose this high life, instead, just to see how the other side lives, for kicks.  But I caught my words before they carelessly tumbled from my mouth.  If for no other reason than the fact that although I did not consciously decide to become homeless, I didn’t do anything to prevent it.  Collette did not deserve my terse response. “No.  My family is gone, and since I’m not exactly inviting anyone over for dinner parties, I haven’t kept in touch with any long lost friends.”  This time, I couldn’t avoid my biting tone.  “Listen, I appreciate your interest in trying to help me, but I don’t belong here.”  The truth was, that I did not belong anywhere.  How could I explain to these nice people that at one point in my life, not too long ago, I was just like both of them?  That I am educated, well, at least by most standards?  How could I describe the agony of my life with Luke until Amelia became my purpose, only to suffer the loss of them, too?  But perhaps the most difficult to justify to Collette and Noah, complete strangers, was the fact that I discarded my own Self in hopelessness.  Dejection claimed my resilience until my very own will was starved.

“Well, that settles it.  You’ll have to stay here, at least for tonight.  Noah and I are in town for a trade show, and we’ve reserved several rooms for our employees.  One of our co-workers decided to commute from Jersey, so there happens to be an extra room.  We were planning on canceling it after dinner, but now, we don’t have to.”

Was she for real?  “I can’t accept such a generous offer.  You’ve already been kind enough.  A room here is too much and I can clearly never repay the debt.  Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”  My refusal sounded so resolute, but in my mind, I already accepted the possibility of actually sleeping on something other than concrete and waste, if only for just one night.  

“Don’t be ridiculous.  We get to write the rooms off as a business expense anyway, so it really isn’t a problem at all.  Please, let us do this small thing for you.”  Collette’s request seemed so sincere, and did it really matter?  She offered, and I would have been a fool not to accept.  So, I did.  And that night changed the course of my life.

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Living on the streets taught me many lessons, to say the least.  Sleeping through abnormally loud noise, even chaos, remains one of the most useful tricks.  Eventually, a muffled, but persistent knocking awakened me from the deepest, most peaceful slumber I had had in three years.

“Excuse me, miss.”  Knock, knock.  “Miss?  Room service here.  Miss?  Are you in there?” 

Reluctantly, I cracked the door and peered out, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t order room service.”  

“I know.  Miss Collette took the liberty of ordering for you.  She also asked me to deliver this note.  Good day, miss.”

Miss Collette?  How often does she stay here?  Swimming in confusion, I read Collette’s letter:

Dear Kalaya, 

I hope you slept well last night. I had to be at the show early

 this morning, but I wanted to invite you to lunch today.  

Please, don’t feel obligated, but if you’d like, meet me at 

noon on the corner of 11th Avenue and 34th Street.  I’ll wait 

for you until 12:15. I have a proposition for you.  If you 

choose not to come, I understand, and I wish you much 

health and safety.                                 

Cheers, Collette                                                                                     

Really, the whole situation was bizarre. I was homeless and here was this fairy godmother?  Not likely.  But still, here I slept, in this posh hotel, accepting free breakfast in bed from a beautiful, sleek, dark eyed stranger. Experience taught me that nothing in life is free, but if for nothing other than curiosity, I decided to meet Collette; but not before drenching myself in the hottest, most glorious shower I could remember.

When I arrived at 11th and 34th,  Collette was already there waiting for me. “Hi, Collette.” 

“Hey!  You came! I’m so glad - let’s go.  We can talk over lunch.  I’m starved.” Her rhythmic stride started to echo again in my ears.  

“Wait.  Listen – this is all just not right.  I can’t -   You don’t even know me.  I’m a homeless street person, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t have come.  You should have just left me alone last night.   - I just wanted to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  I know.  This has been out of the ordinary for me, too, but maybe it’s kismet.  Just come to lunch.  Then, you can decide never to talk to me again if you want.  I promise.”

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“What are you grinning about, Kalaya?” Collette asked with a smirk. The car ride gave us time to talk.

“Was I grinning?”

“Like a rockstar.”

“Hmm, I didn’t realize that I had any expression at all.  I was thinking about the first night I met you and Noah.  I guess it always involuntarily makes me smile.  When I think of how short my life might have been if you and Noah hadn’t rescued me – I was ready to give up.  After three years on the streets, I had no fight left inside, but then you came along.  I’m just constantly grateful.  Everyone’s life flickers in such a brief flame – some brighter than others, but every life, every moment, incendiary.”

“Noah and I didn’t do anything but offer you the opportunity that was so unfairly confiscated from your past.  You did the hard stuff.  You resurrected yourself from hell and put yourself back together.”

“Great.  A real, live Humpty Dumpty.”  

“You are ridiculous, Kalaya..  But actually, your feistiness and sarcasm made me see your strength of mind.  Your raw disdain tugged at my heartstrings.  Besides, after all this, I’ve decided we’re kindred spirits.  Sometimes, people just click, and it’s up to each of us to help one another.  I was just doing my part.”

“Noah is a lucky man to have such a bleeding heart for a wife.  You two together will change this world, do you know that Collette?  In fact, you already have.  You saved me, after all. I used to be unable to wear my heart on my sleeve. Expressions of homeless people have to be blank, because otherwise, the fear would consume us, and make us targets for people who lost their souls.  I guess I subconsciously avoided dealing with life at all. Replacing instinct with any luxury of feeling allowed me to survive for three years.”

“I can’t believe you lived on the streets of New York City for three years.”

“Neither can I.  But more amazing is the fact that you and Noah never ask me questions about why.”

“We always figured you’d talk when you were ready.  I asked you an adequate amount during lunch the second day we met.  Besides, you did the hard stuff – I only offered you a job.”

“We sat for only twenty minutes.  All you asked me then was why I didn’t already have a home or a job.”

“Your answer sufficed. You said that you had been hurt; your family was gone; and you lost your desire to come back from it all.  I saw the pain on your face and the sincerity in your eyes.  Everyone deserves a second chance, right?  I figured Noah and I would be yours. I had nothing to lose.  You told me that you finished your first year of college in 1993. You just needed another chance to make a new life. It was our privilege to give that to you.”

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The memories flood back every time I close my eyes.  I have learned to steal rest between ungodly hours of the night and the wee hours of the morning, just before getting up for work, but I’m always tired.  If I’m not careful, they can consume me again – the memories -  tossing me back into the tempest of my past. That’s why I came to love Gréve.  It calms me.  The pain of transcending one life into the next weaves itself tightly with the fear of what could be and what was.  Light. Hope. Endings. Beginnings.  The perfectly blended rainbow transformed the blandness of my days past to reinvention.