Your Perfect Year(48)

Despite the unevenness underfoot, Jonathan also managed to stand. He gripped the edge of the opening with both hands and heaved his upper body out. Now he could see the man standing in front of the container. He was wearing a dark-blue army coat and glaring at Jonathan with eyes full of hostility.

“Hello!” Jonathan said in as friendly a tone as possible. He reached out a hand, keeping a tight grip on the edge of the opening with the other. His container companion ignored the gesture, looking at him even more mistrustfully.

“Well.” Jonathan tried to defuse the embarrassing situation as he moved to climb out of his prison. It wasn’t so easy, as somehow the opening seemed to have become smaller since he had fallen in. The stranger watched Jonathan’s floundering efforts for a while, and then, with a sigh, he moved a few steps toward him and reached out a hand.

“Thank you.” Jonathan gripped it and the man pulled him out, supporting him as he landed.

“Very kind of you,” Jonathan said once he was back on firm ground, vainly dusting off his clothes. He had the impression that he now smelled of pizza. Honestly, didn’t people know that dirty paper and cardboard belonged with the household garbage?

“You’re welcome,” the man replied with a slight smile that made him look much friendlier. His chin was covered with white stubble, and his long white hair was tied back in a ponytail. His coat, which reached almost to the ground, was threadbare enough to be a rummage-sale reject. He looked pale and worn out. The deep furrows lining the man’s face suggested that he must be in his late fifties at least. “You gave me a real shock there,” he said.

“And you me!” Once again he held out his right hand. “Jonathan Grief.”

The man hesitated briefly before grasping and shaking it. He wore fingerless gloves, but his handshake was firm. “Leopold,” he said.

“Leopold? What an extraordinary name! Especially here in the north—it’s more of a south German name.”

“My pals call me Leo.” He grinned. “So, Leopold to you.”

“No problem,” Jonathan replied before realizing exactly what the man had just said.

“So, John-Boy. What were you doing in my container?”

“I was looking for something.”

“What?”

“Some documents. Nothing important.” He waved his hand dismissively, unwilling to go into the details with this peculiar man.

“Important enough for you to jump on a man’s head in the deepest, darkest night.”

“First, it’s not nighttime but still afternoon,” Jonathan corrected him. “And second, I had no idea you were in the container.” He stared at Leopold with undisguised curiosity. “What were you doing there?”

“What do you think? Keeping warm.”

“In the recycling?”

The man nodded. “Yes. It’s a good insulator.”

“Why don’t you just go home?”

Leopold laughed out loud. Loud enough to make Jonathan jump. “You’re a character!” he snorted, slapping his thigh. “Did they let you out for good behavior?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Ha!” The man wiped a couple of tears from the corners of his eyes. “You know what?” he said between gasps. “My town house is being renovated at the moment, I’m afraid, so I can’t go back there right now.”

“Really?” Something told Jonathan the man was pulling his leg.

“Jesus, boy! Which tree did you just drop out of? Take a look at me! I’m homeless!”

“Oh.” Jonathan N. Grief had no idea how to respond to that. He suddenly felt extremely stupid.

“Oh, yes!” Leopold nodded. “And on particularly cold days like today, I sometimes grab a little shut-eye in the dumpster.”

“Isn’t it dangerous? The thing could be emptied while you’re asleep.”

“True.” Leopold tapped his temple. “But I have all the collection times in here.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I just hadn’t anticipated someone jumping on my head.”

“As I said, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. No damage done.”

“Fortunately not.”

“So, did you find what you were looking for?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Not a trace. I’d hoped the papers would be on top of the pile.”

“Hmm. I’m afraid I stirred it all up when I was making myself at home in there.”

Jonathan almost laughed out loud at “making myself at home.” He’d never associated the words with a dumpster.

“Do you have a flashlight?” Leopold asked.

“Yes, over in the house.” Jonathan pointed toward his villa across the street.

Leopold let out an indefinable sound. “Wow! You live there? Not bad!”

“Um, yes.” The thought immediately leapt into his head that it might have been a mistake to show the man his house like that. One never knew . . .

“Let me make a suggestion,” Leopold said. “You go get your flashlight. I’ll climb back into the container and you can light it up for me.”

Jonathan hesitated.

“Your papers can’t be that important.”