To Have It All(5)

Mary glanced at me, a moment of understanding passing between us—she knew Pearl wasn’t all there, too—before she shook her head. “I’m real sorry, Pearl,” she apologized. “I haven’t. But I’ll ask around and keep my eyes peeled for him.”

“God bless you, hon,” Pearl murmured. “I just hope he’s okay. He’s never been on the streets by himself.”

“It’s going to be really hot out here today, so I put two bottles of water in there for ya’s.” Holding her hand up to block the sun from her eyes, Mary added, “You guys try and stay in the shade if you can.”

I smiled up at her from where I sat beside Pearl on the sidewalk, embarrassed, realizing how worthless and pathetic I must’ve looked to her. “Thank you, Mary. I swear, I will repay you some day.” I’d promised her this every Wednesday since the first Wednesday Pearl brought me there and come hell or high water it was a promise I intended to keep. Someday, somehow, I would repay this woman.

And every Wednesday she looked down at me, her mouth curved somewhat like she was smiling and frowning simultaneously and said, “You don’t owe me a thing. I’ll see you guys next week.”

“Thank you, Mary,” Pearl called around the bite of sandwich in her mouth as Mary hustled back inside. Pearl had already torn into the bag and gotten her half.

We watched Mary rush to the front and round the corner. Mary is on her feet working all day, but takes time out of her busy schedule and money out of her own pocket to bring us a sandwich. My stomach grumbled as I looked inside the bag wishing like hell I wasn’t so desperate to eat this sandwich. It’s hard to describe the feeling of being immensely grateful and tremendously ashamed at the same time—it was truly humbling.

When I took a big bite of my sandwich, I looked at Pearl who had just finished hers.

When we met, it had been two days since I’d eaten. I was too proud to beg for food. In my mind at the time, I would rather have starved. But Pearl wouldn’t have any of that.

A loud engine roared, drawing our attention. At the red light, a man sat on a motorcycle. The Road King he was driving was badass with a 26-inch spoked wheel. I could tell the man had put some time into it just looking at it. The fuel tank was stretched, it had a custom paint job, and he’d added drag bar handlebars, side covers, and saddle bags. My chest tightened as I stared, a hint of jealousy seizing me as the thought I’d never own a bike again, let alone ride on one, skittered through my mind.

“Sure is a pretty bike,” Pearl noted letting out a husky laugh. I frowned, wondering if she had a cold. It was summertime, so it probably wasn’t allergies, but I didn’t get a chance to question her about it because she added, “You stare at motorcycles like most men stare at women.” I snorted a laugh at her words. She was right.

“I’ve worked on those,” I told her before shoving my last bite of sandwich in my mouth. When I finished chewing, I added, “They’re pretty badass bikes. I wouldn’t mind having one.”

“You’ll have one someday. Someday, Liam, you’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted. A guy like you won’t stay on these streets for long.”

I appreciated her words of encouragement, but as the Road King zoomed off, I feared it had taken all my hope with it. I’d never considered myself a man that needed a lot, and I’d never dreamed of great wealth, but I’d hoped for enough money to get by and hoped someday I’d find a woman I could settle down with and start a family.

A guy like me Pearl had said. What was I? I was nothing.

“I wish I believed that,” I muttered.

“You’ll see, Liam,” she murmured. “You’ll see.”

After brushing the sandwich crumbs from my clothes, I dug in my pocket and found the crumpled up twenty-dollar bill I’d been holding on to. Taking her hand, I pressed it into her palm.

“It’s not much, but somebody left it on me while I was sleeping last night.”

Pearl looked up at me, her eyes seemingly searching my face. “This is all the money you’ve got, Liam,” she said softly.

“I’ve got more,” I lied. “Don’t worry about me.”

Her narrowed gaze said, bullshit. It was bullshit. She was no dummy. “I’m not taking this,” she insisted and moved to give it back, but I hopped up and grabbed my backpack before she could.

“Nope. It’s yours,” I insisted.

Shaking her head, she cut me a look that said: “Thanks, but you shouldn’t have.”

Then her gaze darted from me to something behind me, her eyes flashing with what looked like familiarity, but quickly morphed into something else. “Look at that.” Pearl pointed, her eyes widening with appreciation. Following her line of sight, I found a tall man dressed in a tailored suit, standing at the corner of the café, talking on his cell phone, his free hand was in his slacks pocket. It’s not like we hadn’t seen a hundred suits every day, but this man stood out. He was handsome, for a dude, seemingly wealthy, and looked like he didn’t have a care in the world as he chuckled at something the person on the other end of the line must have said.

Watching him, I couldn’t help but compare myself. I was never a suit and tie kind of guy and most days my hands were stained, and my nails were caked with grease. My body was covered in tattoos, and from what I could tell, this guy had no ink. He was a big guy, but physically I was larger. At least I used to be, before my life went to shit town. The streets had stolen more than my hope, taking their pounds of flesh. In better days I’d been broad and muscular, just like him. Not the waste of skin and bones I was now.