The men sat on a park bench. One was a small older man. His companion was about thirty five or so but it was difficult to accurately tell his age. His eyes were unfocused and blank. It was clear he had not bathed or changed clothing for a long time. His clothes were in rags and were filthy. His hair and beard were matted with filth and debris.
The older man looked him and shook his head. He stood and took the younger man by the hand and led him toward the mission. The younger guy followed docilely along. As they crossed the street a large car braked to a stop and the driver stared at the two derelicts crossing the street.
Jason Brooks grabbed his cell phone and pressed a speed dial number. The phone was answered, he said, "Betty, Honey, has Samantha heard anything about Jonathon lately?"
"Not yet, they are still searching for him."
"Well I would swear I just saw him going into the Christian Mission down on Canal Street. He looked terrible if it was him."
"Oh! My God! I'll call Samantha right away."
"I'm going to park here and watch to see if he leaves. Tell her to hurry."
Jason parked and watched the Mission door. Several people went in and out. The two men he had see had not come out. After about ten minutes a Police car pulled in in front of him. One of the officers walked back to Jason's car. He asked if he was Jason Brooks. He said he was and that he hadn't seen Jonathon Mitchell leave. The officer asked if he would accompany him in the mission and point Mr. Mitchell out to him. Jason agreed.
They entered the building and saw a large room with people seated eating. Jason spotted the two men he had seen and pointed them out to the officers. They watched as the older man took food from the younger man's plate and ate it. Then he would take some food and put it in the younger man's mouth. The police asked him if he were sure the younger man was Jonathon Mitchell. Jason said he couldn't be positive, but that he was pretty sure it was him. The three of them approached the two men at the table. Jason Looked carefully at the younger man. He said, "Jonathon, is that you?"
The younger man stared straight ahead and showed only one sign that he had heard. Tears ran from his eyes. Jason looked at the officer and nodded his head. The officer asked the older man if he knew the younger man's name. He said he had heard someone call him Johnny one time, so that was what he called him. "He is a nice guy, is he in trouble?"
"No, he is lost and needs help. Can he talk?"
"Never heard him say a word except one time some guy had a bottle and I gave him a shot. He said some woman's name and cried like a baby. Only thing I ever heard him say."
Jason said, "Was the name Samantha."
"Yeah! That was it. Samantha."
Jason looked at the officer. "His wife's name is Samantha."
The officer looked at the other cop. "Ted, I'm going to call the EMTs and have them pick him up. They are better equipped to handle him, besides I don't want him to stink up the car. Damn he stinks." He took the microphone for the radio he wore on his shoulder and called for Medical Assistance and gave the location. He looked at his fellow officer, "Boy! He is a big one. Thin, but still big."
"Yeah, I hope he ain't violent or anything."
The older derelict looked up at them. "He don't never start nothing'. But a few weeks back some guys tried to take my cigarettes and were beatin'on me. He tore into 'em like a wild man. Just kicked the living shit out of five big guys. Nobody messes with us now."
"Can you control him?"
"Yeah, most of the time he does whatever I tell him."
"How about you go to the hospital with him. You'll get a decent meal and a bath out of it. Maybe some clean clothes."
"Why not. Been a long time."
Samantha Mitchell sat in the chair beside Jonathon's bed. She wiped her eyes for the hundredth time in the last hour or two. She was going to need a new box of Kleenex pretty soon. Every time she looked at the sleeping man she burst into tears. She just couldn't help it. He looked much better now, He was clean, his hair cut and washed and free of mats and tangles. He beard was gone. She hadn't been sure it was him when she first saw him in the hospital, he was so dirty and tattered. Now he looked like a bare shell of his old self. He was almost eighty pounds lighter than he had been when the walked out of her life that fateful day, the worst day of her whole life.
She heard a step near the door and turned to see Adam Mitchell walk in the door. Adam was a giant man. He stood six foot ten inches tall and weighed 320 pounds. He looked down at Jonathon and his face contorted in pain and tears ran down his cheeks. He looked skyward and clinched his fists, "Dear God, what have I done to this man, the finest, truest person I have ever known, the best brother anyone could ever have. What have I done?" He turned and looked at Samantha. "I'm so damned sorry, Sam. Let me know if I can help in any way." He sobbed and walked from the room.
Samantha thought again about that day. It started out well enough, Samantha and Jonathon had gone to meet some friends at Adam's house for a Bar-B-Que. The afternoon had gone very well. Sam had worn a cute pair of white short shorts and a small yellow halter top. She wore a lace jacket and a pink ball cap with her long blond ponytail through the hole in the back. She knew she looked good. She had just turned thirty two years old and looked easily ten or fifteen years younger. Her body was gorgeous, large breasts, narrow waist, trim hips and lovely legs. She dearly loved her husband and everyone there knew it. She was never far from him and didn't seem to be happy or relaxed unless she was touching him. He never seemed to take his eyes off of her. His brother Adam flirted with Samantha shamelessly and had everybody including Jonathon and Sam laughing at him.
Samantha , Adam and Jonathon had known each other all their lives. Jonathon and Sam had been sweethearts since the grade school. They had married right after High School. Adam, two years older than Jonathon, went off to play football at Miami and then to the Denver Broncos.
