SearchHe came into my life suddenly, and left in the same way. I know from whence he came, and why, because he told me. Where he has gone, I will probably never know, because that's the way he wants it. I almost made a difference in his life before he retrogressed into oblivion.
I first saw him, on a cold winter night, from the twenty-ninth floor fire escape of the old, art-deco downtown landmark building. It was almost midnight when my friend realized he had left an important folder in his office. The security guard at the front desk in the lobby let us in and keyed one of the elevators to take us up. He was used to the building’s tenants coming and going at late hours.
The elevator door opened onto the long dimly-lit hallway with offices on either side. As I waited for him to retrieve his work, the idea came to me of stepping out onto the fire escape to lean back and look up at the ever-changing colors of the lit dome above the thirty-forth story. It never occurred to me that the door would lock behind me.
I stepped out into the freezing air onto the open-metal grate beneath my feet and grabbed at the railing, fearfully teetering unbalanced as my spike heels went through the openings. Instead of looking up, I was compelled to look down…., down…., down. Dizzily I noted the alley that ran along the north side of the building, and in that alley a man lying on a piece of cardboard, covered with old newspapers.
Frozen with fear and from the icy wind whipping at my body, I prayed that my friend would figure out where I was and open the door to let me back in.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Did you know,” I asked as we left the building, “that out in the back, there is a man lying in the alley? Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”
I was attempting to get his mind on something besides his anger at me born of his fear for my safety. It didn’t work. His tone and curt response belied his vexation. “There’s a lot of homeless people around town. That one in the alley is the one that wears that silly WWII pilot hat.”
I said no more and we rode in silence except for the windshield wipers that flicked loudly back and forth, wiping away the wet snowflakes that had begun to fall.
I really should admit that he was on the way to being more than just a friend. It was a pouty kiss I received at the door, pouty but very delicious, and one that promised better endings to more lovely evenings. On a scale of one to ten, with “one” being friends and “ten” being lovers, we were hovering somewhere between “four” and “seven“. If it had not been for a projected busy morning schedule for us both, I would have invited him in.
~ ~ ~ ~
I have no toes.
I lost them all, and half of my right foot, to gangrene after the frostbite got me. I misjudged the depth of the cold that night, not accounting for the wind chill. The whiskey fogged my thinking and warmed my innards and all too soon the little brown bag was blowing in the wind and the bottle shattered against the building that loomed above my cold pit of hell.
I made my bed that night in the back alley behind the Power & Light Building with a large piece of cardboard box over an open grate. I thought there might be a little warmth rising from the pipes below the streets. I fought the wind blowing through the alley for possession of the stack of old newspapers to use for cover. Before the night was over, the wind had won, and I was huddled in a frozen fetal position when the paddy wagon loaded me up and hauled me to the General Hospital.
I know they thought I was crazy drunk and on my way to dying when I tried to tell them of the angel at the top of the building, looking down at me with her long hair shining gold, then green, then orange and finally glowing white before beginning the cycle again. I began to feel moisture on my exposed face and knew it was her tears falling, freezing as they fell, into lacy white snowflakes that kissed my cheeks.
(To be continued.)
© Broses. All rights reserved by the author.
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