My good friend StangStar06 recently published a romance (8 Mile) about a homeless woman with red hair, just like there is in this one. The stories themselves are different and I actually wrote this story months ago but only recently finished editing it.
I just didn't want anyone to think I had stolen any ideas.
<><><><><>
ROCHELLE
It was a chilly night but not cold. I had experienced much colder nights over the last 3 years, and the layers I was wearing were mostly sufficient to ward off the chills.
I was sitting against a wall just watching the world go by, just like I usually did. There wasn't really anything else to do in my position, so every night I sat here (or somewhere anyway), watching. I enjoyed people-watching, reading the emotions on their faces and in their body language and trying to guess what was going on in their lives.
My eyes were drawn to an older couple walking down the street. They held hands and walked at a slow, steady pace. They were pointing out various things around them, leading to the other person turning their gaze to the object in question. They had clearly been together a long time and were very much still in love. That was what I hoped for someday, and had run away to find.
Another couple went by, moving in the opposite direction from the older couple. These two were younger, maybe mid-30's, and when they caught sight of me their obvious disgust was plastered on their faces. The woman clutched the man a little tighter, as if little old me was some kind of threat. It was fine; I was used to that reaction.
A solitary man was the next person to catch my attention. He was moving away from me but glanced back and caught me in his eye. I was having trouble reading him. He wasn't obviously happy or noticeably sad. He wasn't angry, either. It was more like he was just...there. That was unusual.
He seemed to be considering what he should do next, and the decision was apparently to come walking over to me. I couldn't find any apparent malice in his face, so I sat still and waited for him to make the first move, though I was on my guard.
"Hi. Are you hungry?"
"I'm homeless, mister. I'm always hungry."
He smiled ruefully. "I guess that was kind of a stupid question. You wanna get something to eat over at the diner, on me?"
"What do I have to do in return?" There was always something.
"Well, it will require that you get up and walk into the diner; other than that, nothing."
I stared at him for a few seconds and his expression never changed. He was just waiting for me to make a decision.
"All right, thank you. I'd appreciate it."
He helped me to my feet and then we walked into the diner. We sat at the counter on the far end, away from the door. That would allow us, or more specifically me, to warm up a little bit.
The waitress had seen me in here before (at least, I assume she recognized me) but we had never really spoken. Him she knew, however.
"Good evening, Henry. How are you tonight?"
"I'm good, Joan. Get my friend here whatever she wants, okay? She can pack some stuff to go to, if she wants."
He handed over three $20.00 bills.
"One of those is for you for taking care of her. If her bill comes to more than the $40 just let me know, and you can give her the change if there is any."
I ordered a steak sandwich with fries and soup. We sat mostly in silence while we waited for the food. I think he wanted to ask how I ended up the way I was, just like I wanted to ask why he was being so nice, but neither of us broached those topics.
The food was really good and I was eating a lot, even as tiny as I am. I was just starting to relax a bit when he made his move.
"Look, my apartment is only a couple blocks from here. If you'd like to take a bath and maybe run your clothes through the laundry, you're welcome to come do so."
I reacted strongly and loudly.
"Look pal, I don't know what kind of pervert homeless girl fantasies you're trying to fulfill, but you picked the wrong girl!"
The look on his face was a mix of horror at the suggestion and what seemed like a profound disappointment that he had upset me.
"I'm sorry; I was just trying to help. I'll leave you to your meal. Joan, give her anything she wants. You know I'm good for it. I need to go."
I could see he was upset. Serves him right, propositioning me like that. He got out of the chair and pulled his coat on, walking toward the door. The waitress spoke to me.
"You know, his offer was legit. He does it every once in a while. He'd have offered even if you had a penis between your legs."
Shit, now I felt bad. I called out to stop him before he got out the door.
"Hey mister!" He paused but then shook his head kept going.
"His name is Henry."
"Right; hey, Henry!"
This time he stopped. I walked over to him with my head down. I felt like crap all of a sudden.
"Look, I'm sorry about that. Usually when someone's nice to me like this, especially a man, it's because they want something from me, you know. And you probably know what that is, like homeless women are just dying to give it up to whoever offers."
He didn't even look at me. I think he didn't want me to see how upset I had made him.
"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Enjoy your dinner."
He started to walk away again.
"Henry, wait, please."
He stopped but didn't turn back toward me.
"Is...is your offer still open, or have I blown my chance?"
Now he turned around.
"It's still open, but you should finish eating. I don't have any food at my place."
We went back to the counter so I could finish eating. I had been so focused on my food that I hadn't noticed he hadn't ordered anything.
"Aren't you hungry, Henry?"
"No, uh..."
"Rochelle."