Someone Lies Outside - Part 4

Part 4 - Clash And Burn

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”

His voice was rising in decibels. The tenor of it was clear and concise. No hint of tender love talk was hiding anywhere in his demeanor. He was plain old bossy, as if he owned me. He wouldn’t stop ragging…

“Get that notion out of that pretty little head of yours immediately! Do you think I want the woman that I’m going to marry running around on the streets with some dirty, loony, homeless man?”

The scale was dropping seriously. “Lover” was not even in sight and “friend” was just about to disappear along with it as I lost my sweet femininity in attempting to out-shout him.

“Oh? So where did this ‘marry thing’ come from? Have I ever proposed to you? Have I ever given you reason to think that I would?” My voice was rising an octave with each question.

“You can’t stop me! I’ll do it if I want to! You’re not the boss of me! Not now! Not ever!” I stormed out of his office and slammed the door so hard that the fancy nameplate fell off of the door and dropped to the floor.

With that, I doubled over with laughter that bubbled up and burst forth like an erupting volcano. That sort of thing was so out of character for me. I usually kept my cool in most every situation. But, somewhere in the recesses of my mind I could remember spouting those same words as a bratty child. I laughed even harder as “Mrs. Busy” with a horrified look and a “th, th, th,” came running to rescue the name plate.

~ ~ ~ ~

So what if I was a successful advertising agent? So what if I had important clients? So what if I made good money doing what I do? So what if he was proud of me? Does that mean that I can’t write too? How dare he make fun of my blogging? It just burns me up! I love to write. It is one of my greatest enjoyments in life. If it were more lucrative, I would write full time. My inspiration to make friends with a homeless man and to write his story intrigued me. How dare he inform me that he wouldn’t stand for it?

My rebellious thoughts accompanied me down the elevator and through the lobby and out the revolving door into the blinding sunshine. As I headed back to my own office, a strange voice brought me out of my reverie.

“Lady, can you spare a little for a bite to eat?”

~ ~ ~ ~

The Stalking Begins

"Why do I talk to myself?…not just a "Shit!" or a "Damn!" or a phrase here and there, but straight out carrying on a conversation with myself as I walk down the sidewalks. I know people hear me. I see the heads turning as people pass--as if they think they're being attacked by the strange, dirty man in the pilot hat.”

"You didn't used to do that before.… When did you start that shit?…. Why do you do it?”

“I don’t know, why DO I do it?”

“Imbecile! You know they’ll send you back inside if you’re not careful. They’ll get you for vagrancy again.”

“I got a right to be here! It’s not my fault things never work out.”

“You know you’re nothin’ but scum, you dirty bastard.”

“Leave me alone!”

He was on Broadway almost to the Southwest Trafficway where downtown turned into the West Side Mexican joints. “The smell of enchiladas made his mouth water with anticipation and he headed that direction.

Peering each direction to see if anyone was looking, he stepped into the alley behind Taqueria where a dumpster waited for the leftover bits of the lunch crowd…. Nothing! It was still too early for lunch clean up. All he found was some dried out crumbs from La Posada across the way. He grabbed them up stuffing a chunk into his mouth and the rest into his pocket.

Then he saw her. “My Angel Bitch!“ She was with two other broads. It had been weeks. He had stalked the Power & Light district, watching, waiting, but that fancy lawyer came and went by himself. Apparently she wasn’t spending time with him anymore. He knew she had come from the north each time but he hadn’t had the sense, then, to follow her and see where she worked.

Apparently they had come out of Taqueria Mexicano when he had his face in the dumpster. They were getting into a black car parked alongside the curb. What to do? What to do? All he could do was stand there and watch them drive away.

“I’ll find you!” he shouted to the disappearing car. “I’ll find you if it’s the last thing I do!”

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