I Just Need a Shower

I awake to the usual; Hurried footsteps clacking on pavement. I peek my head out from underneath my shell of warmth and watch as the people rush by. A few of them barely glance my way. A few of them make eye contact, quickly looking away in disgust and shame. I know a few of them care but the busy city life drags them forward. I wonder if any of them think of me throughout the day? Maybe they feel guilty for not dropping a coin in my bucket? Maybe they think about how they could save the sandwich they just tossed in the trash and give it to me on their route home? After a brief moment of empathy they move on.

A warm breeze. The first signs of spring. My body aches for it. After months in the cold the slightest change in temperature is welcomed. This winter I was lucky enough to have a sleeping bag. It used to be my friend Lucy’s; She died last year… Pneumonia. It’s been lonely ever since. One would think being in the city would make my situation easier but to be honest, most people ignore my existence. A few people give me money. I can see the judgemental look in their eyes as they do. Wondering why I can’t find work and need to sleep on the streets. That’s the usual judgement cast on me when people see my scraggly beard and smell my rotten smell. That’s the same reason I can’t get a job. So many thoughts. Forget this. I’m too drained to worry about humanity right now. I need to get moving and see what I can make of the day.

“I told you if you came in here again I’d be calling the cops!”

“I just need a shower.”

“Last chance. Get the hell out or spend the night in jail.” That was a bust. Guess I won’t be showering today. That also means no job interviews. How do I even find a job? I don’t have the internet or a phone. Maybe a library? I’m sure they have public access to the internet. I could set up an email. Then I’d have to make sure I can check it. Am I allowed in the Library? Where is the library in this city? It all seems so daunting. Especially with my stomach roaring at me. I could focus on jobs later… right now I needed to get money so I could get a decent meal.

I used to have a guitar but frostbite took a few of my fingers so I’ve switched to bucket drums. I’m not as good so not as much cash in it, but better than just begging. The least I could do is work for my money. If I show the universe I’m willing to work, maybe something good will come of it. Maybe I’m just overly optimistic. For now I’ll just let the beat travel through me and out onto my drums.

The warmth of the chicken sub and the hot coffee I earned make it hard not to be grateful. I could feel the cold creeping as the sun began to set in the city. I finish the meal, savoring every bite. My stomach hasn’t been this full in some time. I counted the rest of my change. Enough for a subway ride downtown. It was always a blessing when I could find a way to get to the busiest parts of my city. I slept on the subway for as long as I could. The sound of the rails always soothed my mind. Once being kicked off I searched for a good spot at street level. I found it next to a ventilation shaft spewing warm steam. As I wrapped myself in my sleeping bag I listened to the song of the city; Car horns honking; an alarm in the distance; a couple laughing as they walk by… lost in their bliss. I drifted off to sleep, thankful for today.

It is Mid-spring. The trees are blossoming and the days grow longer. The city begins to thaw from its winter slumber. I’m still on the streets. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I try… how much work I put in… nothing changes. I earn money but it fluctuates day to day. Somedays I make enough to eat three solid meals; Other days I barely make enough for one. The people who give, give what they can. The ones who could give the most don’t give at all. I watch them as they speed past me, briefcases in hand, suits and ties looking sharp and clean. I try to ask them for help finding a job. They look at me as if I’m speaking another language and bury themselves deeper into their phone conversations. My positivity fluctuates almost as much as my money. Some days it is easy to see the beauty and be thankful… other days not so much.

I keep getting kicked out of my usual spots. When traffic picks up in the spring the cops say I’m a nuisance. This happens every year. I should have prepared better. Made a plan maybe? Instead, I allow myself to get pushed to the outskirts of the city. During the warmer months, center city is packed with tourists and civilians. Unfortunately, the police make it almost impossible to get downtown. The officers are looking for reasons to fill their quotas. A lot of us never make it back from being pushed to the outer limits. Not money means no food or the means to travel. People starve, most die from sickness, some are arrested or they just get stuck. I’ve been lucky enough to make it back every year but these months take so much out of me that by the time winter arrives I feel like I’m back at square one. I still try my hardest. All I need is enough money for a night in a room. Then I could shower and get my life on track.

Summer has arrived and it is hot in the city. The metal buildings reflect the sun in every direction and at ground level it feels like an oven. Even at night it is hard to get away from the heat. I’ve started saving money for a hotel. Unfortunately for me that means less food but I know the sacrifice will be worth it. I need something to take my mind off the endless hunger.

“I’ll take it over the cold any day.” My buddy says, slurring his words. He is less of a buddy and more the monkey on my back. It takes the hunger away though. Unfortunately it also takes my money but I keep coming back. It starts the same every time. A free sample and then I’m hooked. Not this time though… this time it will be different. This time I’m not using because I’m addicted, this time I’m using because it takes away my hunger. It’s a tool. Just like pills for depression or anxiety. It will allow me to save more money in the long run and then I’ll be able to get that room… that shower… that job.

Tonight we are lucky enough to find a spot in the park to sleep. Most of the time the officers will kick us out but we’ve tucked ourselves amongst some trees and bushes so nobody will bother us. A few stars peek through the treetops. It’s not often that I see them through the light pollution. A glance of heaven; Peace in the city. I surrender and drift off to sleep in the summer heat.

Fall. I’m going through withdrawals. I’ve got no money saved. My plan has failed. I don’t know why I thought I could handle it better this time. I thought I was using it for a purpose but in reality I was just addicted once again. I lay on the side of the street shivering and shaking. I go through cold sweats and hot flashes. I cry out during hallucinations… passersby think I’m insane. A few of them chuckle to themselves or their friends. People film me on their phones. I beg for help but no one seems to listen or care. Some of them even run away in fear.

After a few weeks I’m finally sober. I have a constant voice in the back of my head telling me to use again but the logical voice in my head has returned and is louder. I realize how much time I’ve wasted and how little money I have. I also realize winter is coming. My sleeping bag has been stolen. I must have lost it during my withdrawal. I am much more frail and weak this year. I’m worried I won’t survive. Only a couple months to raise enough money to get my life on track. I needed a miracle.

As another month goes by I decide to swallow my pride and begin going to the shelter. I’m only allowed to stay two nights a week but the extra food and comfortable bed is well worth it. I visit the hotspots as often as I can, even if I have to walk to them. I work through the night and early into the morning. I am constantly exhausted. I am constantly hungry and I can feel the cold air starting to creep its way into the city. The warm days and cold nights have left me with a nasty cough, but I suffer through it. I’ve started attending church. They have lunch on Saturdays and kindly welcome me. Of course people look at me and wonder why I’m here, or believe I’m only there for the meal, but overall they have been wonderful.

As winter arrives I find myself praying for a miracle. My cough has worsened. The first month goes by and I don’t have enough energy to carry my drums. I resort to begging but my cough keeps people away. My chest grows tighter and it is hard to breath. The shelter turned me away because I am sick. I didn’t know where else to turn so I slept outside of the church.

I don’t remember falling asleep or being carried inside. I tried to open my eyes but the lids barely lifted. I tried to breathe but felt as though my airway was being crushed. I passed in and out of consciousness a few times before allowing myself to succumb to sleep.

They had a doctor come and check on me. I already knew I was dead before he announced it. Severe pneumonia… just like my friend Lucy. The pastor who found me stayed beside my bed until I passed. They did everything they could for me. I hold no grudges. They helped me when nobody else would. I think back now on what I could have done differently. Was I focused on the wrong thing? Or maybe I was just a tool for God to test humanities empathy and compassion. I take solace in the fact that no matter what I continued to work hard and look for the beauty in life even when it was hard to find. Unfortunately, my story ended like so many others. Surrounded by a city full of people, yet never more alone.