This is a short story I wrote for a "wild card" assignment in one of my classes. I haven't written in a while and I did it in all of one day, but I think it's pretty good. Yall lemme know what ya think.
Vagrant
The day was clear. The sky was
sunny. I had just gotten out of my 12 o’clock class and walked out of the
Johnston building; after two hours of sitting in that cold classroom, the sun
warmed my face nicely. As the rest of my peers headed to the cafeteria, I
decided that today I wanted to treat myself to a hot dog in the park; I had
plenty of time until my next class, after all. I walked briskly, my stomach
growling in anticipation.
“Chili…cheese…sauerkraut…onions.”
These
were the thoughts racing through my mind as I picked up speed towards the park.
As I got closer, I saw the hot dog cart stationed next to the big marble
fountain of five kneeling women. The water above cascaded pleasantly, reflecting
a golden aura from the sun. My feet pounded the pavement as I approached the
cart manager. Breathing heavily, I leaned on the counter and looked at the
menu.
“Ok…let
me get a foot long dog with chili, cheese, onions, sauerkraut…and coleslaw
please.”
“Sure
thing, sir,” he replied.
He
grabbed a pair of tongs lying on the counter behind him and took one of the
dogs off the grill. My mouth watered as he grabbed a bun and placed the
slightly charred dog inside. He put on the condiments, wrapped it up, and
finally handed it to me.
“That’ll
be $1.75 sir.”
I
grabbed my wallet and hurriedly found two dollars to give to him. It was all I
could do not to throw the money at him; instead I placed it on the counter and
took the hot dog from him.
“Keep
the change.”
I
took a seat on a park bench in front of the fountain. I eagerly unwrapped the
hot dog and took a minute to enjoy the aroma. I checked my watch. I had an hour
and a half until my next class. I was good. I took an enormous bite out of the
hot dog. My stomach gurgled happily as I swallowed and continued eating. In my
voracity, I failed to notice the homeless man slowly approaching where I was
sitting. It wasn’t until he took a seat to my left that I opened my eyes and
jumped slightly. He was a squat, frumpy old black man with thick, unkempt
dreadlocks. His coat appeared to be a size too big, and his salt-and-pepper
beard was long and matted. He looked to be in his late fifties. I hadn’t realized
that I was staring when he turned to look at me.
“Man
can’t have a seat here?” He asked.
“Oh-
I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”
“Ah,
that’s alright. I suppose you young folk these days can’t help it. You’re all
so privileged, you see someone like me and don’t know what to think.”
He
laughed. His snaggletoothed grin caught me off guard and I chuckled
involuntarily.
“I
guess so,” I replied with a laugh.
The
man made me nervous. I saw homeless people every day, and when I did they were
usually asking for money. The man’s closeness sparked the idea that any second
he might pull out a knife and threaten to stab me if I didn’t surrender my
wallet.
As
if reading my mind, he said, “Well, I didn’t come over here to bother you or
anything. I just need a place to rest for a minute. Carry on.”
He
slumped a bit further on the bench and closed his eyes.
“Oh
alright then, ” I replied.
I
continued eating my hot dog, a bit faster now. In his half-slumber, the man
began humming softly. I didn’t pay much attention at first, but I soon noticed
that the tune was familiar.
“Excuse
me, sir.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me.
“Yo.”
“Was
that Scott Joplin you were humming?”
He
grinned a yellow-toothed grin.
“Yes
sir. Maple Leaf Rag. What you know about that?”
“I
love ragtime,” I said with a chuckle. “That’s actually one of my favorite
pieces.”
“Really?
You may be alright son. You may be alright.”
I
laughed. “Wow…I didn’t think that…never mind.”
He
looked at me incredulously.
“You
didn’t think the homeless man knew anything about good music? That’s it right? Man
I promise you young people….so quick to judge and jump to conclusions about
EVERYBODY!”
He
shifted indignantly in the bench. Sitting there with his matted beard, yellow
teeth, and coat that was too large, somehow he still managed to look dignified.
It was weird.
“Sorry,
that’s not what I meant.”
He
eyed me with slight resentment, then spoke again.
“Shouldn’t
you be in school right now? You’re a college student, right?”
“Um,
yea. I go to King’s University right down the road,” I replied. “But I don’t
have class for another hour.”
“I
see,” he replied, scratching his head. “What are you studying over there?”
“Art
with a double minor in Music and Theology.”
“Wow,”
he said with an amazed look. “Wide range of interests you have there. What
exactly do you plan to do with that?”
I
answered slowly.
“I’m….not
entirely sure. Just yet.”
He
laughed again.
“Sounds
to me like you’re gunning for my job! I wouldn’t recommend it. Vacations are
the only perks.”
His
laugh was infectious. His tired brown eyes glinted momentarily.
“Ah
man,” He continued. “I hope you figure
that out soon. This country already isn’t too fond of us, if you know what I
mean. Going out into the world without a good plan is setting yourself back
even further.”
“Really? This guy is gonna counsel me about
my future?”
“…I’ll
keep that in mind,” I muttered half-heartedly. I resumed eating what was left
of my hot dog.
“Theology,
huh?” He continued. “I take it you plan to preach or something one day?”
I
swallowed the last of my hot dog before answering.
“Well,
I figure I’ll apply to a few graphic design firms after graduation. If I don’t
hear back from any, I’ll probably go to divinity school as a backup up plan.”
His
eyes shifted from me and he appeared to gaze off into the distance for a few
seconds before replying.
“So
you want to preach? That’s admirable, I guess. I used to be the religious type
until around high school when I realized there were too many unanswered
questions.”
“What
sort of questions?” I asked.
“Just
things like who created God, why must we constantly worship him, all sinners
going to hell, the problem of evil. Those sorts of things. Now I’m more
agnostic than anything. I came to the realization that there’s no way for me to
truly know. So now I just enjoy life.”
His
use of the word “agnostic” threw me off. I felt guilty for automatically
assuming that he would be another lazy bum hitting me up for change. There was
one question remaining in my mind, however.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
He replied, scratching his head.
“You
seem so well-educated. How did you end up….you know..homeless?”
He
smiled and chuckled lightly.
“Young
brother, lemme school you on something. Education has nothing to do with how well
off you’ll be in this country. You can have all the book learning in the world
and at the end of the day still go home to a roach-infested apartment with a
broken toilet. Meanwhile, I know plenty of bona-fide idiots sleeping in
million-dollar homes. Just goes to show you that education doesn’t run the
world; money does. And I’m where I am today because I just didn’t have enough.”
He
slumped down into the bench before continuing.
“No
one is going to hire you because you can rattle off the events that led to the
Civil War. I was foolish enough to believe that that sort of learning would
make me successful.”
I
didn’t know what to say.
“I’m
sorry to hear that, sir. Really, I am.”
“Hey
don’t feel bad for me, now,” he replied. “I’m bunking at the Deacon Ridge
Homeless Shelter until next month; got a potential job lined up and everything,
so I’m alright.”
He
rolled up his long coat sleeve to reveal a wristwatch with a worn leather band.
“Speaking
of which, it’s just about lunch time. And since you didn’t seem too willing to
share that hot dog, I guess I ought to be heading back over there.”
I
felt ashamed at his mention of the hot dog. I regretted not offering him a
piece.
“If
you want sir, I don’t mind buying you one.”
He
slowly got up from the bench.
“That’s
ok young blood. It’s Fried Chicken Wednesday and I’ve been fantasizing about a
breast and a wing all day. But thanks for giving a homeless man the time of
day. Good luck out there once you hit the real world. Hopefully you won’t end
up bunking with me in a few years.”
He laughed loudly before walking off.
I
watched him as he strolled away. Looking at my watch, I saw I had 15 minutes
until my next class. I got up from the bench and started to make my way back to
campus. I began to think about what the homeless man had said. I hadn’t even
gotten his name or told him mine. I found it strange how he and I, two complete
strangers, had just sat down and gained a little insight on each other’s’
lives.
“This is why I’m really in school, I
guess. Seems like the true learning
happens outside of class.”
As
I approached campus, I felt a strange sensation, almost an obligation, rise up
inside me. The homeless man had worked hard and learned so much only to end up
poor. The more I really thought about it, the more I felt as though I had no
right not to make something of myself after receiving my degree. His words
resonated with in my mind and I began to feel as though, for his sake and mine,
I had to become successful. I looked up at the sky and made a silent promise.
“Sir, I don’t know you, but I promise you
that my hard work—and yours—will not be a waste.”
- Nick G.
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