The mid-day rush of people frantically making their way to or from lunch swarmed around Kelly as she dodged along the wide, hot sidewalk. Her muted apologies (Sorry!, Excuse me!, I'm so sorry!) were smothered by the buzzing of conversations, traffic and the sound of the world around her. At a little over five feet tall and a tiny bit under 110 pounds, she felt like a (Duck? Water bug? Hamster in a hamster ball thing?) fighting the raging current of a monstrous river. She grinned at the thought of a hamster furiously scrambling in a floating ball before apologizing to a faceless stranger that accidentally elbowed her.
The crowd thinned a few blocks later as she neared her favorite little diner. As was her habit, she glanced at herself in the large windows of a Macy's storefront to see if anything was out-of-place. Skirt still where it should be? Check. No under-the-boob sweat spots on my blouse? Check. No toilet paper trailing on my flats- Kelly stopped and turned to look across the street.
An old woman sat in a pile of clothes on the sidewalk across from where she stood. The woman looked proud with her straight back and gray hair pulled into a tight ponytail, slightly lined face staring impassively straight ahead. A small sign written in meticulous letters proclaimed, "I need no money - simply a little food, please." The lady sat cross-legged with her hands folded in the faded red fabric of her dress. Her eyes were a calm reflection of the few clouds that passed overhead.
Kelly bit her lip while watching. Nobody looked at the woman and the woman watched nothing but the space in front of her. She turned back and continued down the block, turning at the small building squeezed between Macy's and Payless Shoes. The little ding! ding! of the bell over the diner's door greeted her cheerfully. A large black man behind the small kitchen window in the back yelled out to her, "Kelly, ma chère! Sit down, honey, and I'll bring you your sandwich."
Kelly stood by the register in the front, relishing the sudden quiet and familiar smells. The world felt slow here. Looking through the old, dusty large front windows made the city outside seem like a movie playing at a drive-in theater on a warm summer night. Even the tiny motes of dust floating in the buttery yellow sunlight seemed lazy. "Make it two, Papa Joe. With soup, please? To go."
An older, slim black woman in a crisp, pristine yellow dress looked up from the table she was waiting on. "That for that new man of yours, girl? I told you to bring him 'round so we can meet him. You hidin' him from us?"
Papa Joe's deep chuckle echoed from the back. "Now, Mama, you leave her alone. You know I'm the only man for her." The men (all men today, she noticed) sitting around the small room laughed and Kelly blushed. Papa Joe winked at her from his little kitchen.
"Joseph Keller! You get back to your grill and mind your own business. No woman could stand you no matter how much you wink and croon or I'd have grandchildren by now. Couldn't even fit through the church doors for your own wedding even if you did fool some poor girl into marryin' you." The woman's bony hands flicked imaginary specks of nothing off of the tiny white flowers dotting her dress. A man at the table to her side raised his empty water glass up to her and she turned to him, slapping his hand. "Mr. Stockwell, if you think I'm gonna carry that glass over to fill it up, you have another thought coming to you. You wait till I come around with the pitcher like everyone else." The man took his glass back, momentarily chagrined at the rebuttal. He grinned, though, and his friends made fun of him while Mama walked to the next table.
From the back, Papa Joe raised his voice in song, "Welllll, I remember the sound of the wind through the tree as I sat so young on papa's knee! Mama in her dress and..."
Kelly turned away to look through the stained windows. She could see the old lady at the corner of the street, still in the same position. She wondered if she should've brought the woman into the diner. You couldn't be mad here, or unhappy, and she thought the other woman could use some relaxing in her life. Or something. But, another part of her worried that the old woman would fracture the idyllic peace of the place. There was a hardness around her that Kelly could see even from a distance. No, better to bring food to the woman. She closed her eyes, taking in the murmuring conversations dotted with Mama's sharp interjections and Papa Joe's fine, deep voice. Her body relaxed in increments as it always did when she was here.
A gentle voice at her side woke her from her revelry. "Here y'are, child. Careful with the soup so they don't spill. And you don't mind me askin' after your business. I'm just an old woman that don't know no better and I just worry after all of y'all. Bring that man of yours in whenever you want and we'll cook up something for the both of you. And you watch yourself with that drifter 'cross the way. I don't like her. On with you now." The old woman turned her body slightly while keeping her eyes on Kelly's face. "I heard that remark, young Mr. Green! You can forget yourself having another glass of Coke. Callin' a woman like myself old. I'm addin' to your bill for that one, you better believe it and I'll be wantin' an apology, too."
The little bell rang again as Kelly opened the door, the sudden flood of noise drowned out Mr. Green's "Awwww, Mama..." behind her. Everything was suddenly too bright, too loud and too fast around her. She held the paper bag close to her chest while she watched and waited for a chance to cross the street. A bicyclist in advertisement-laden white Speedo and a large curved bike helmet zipped past in the bike lane, tires whirring as he passed.
With the light changed to red and no cars turning right, the street was empty and Kelly scrambled across to the other sidewalk. She approached the old woman cautiously, unsure of what to do; she'd never met a homeless person quite like her. As she neared, the old woman spoke, her voice slow and gravelly, "I thought it might be you. Sit with me, little one. Will you share your food with an old woman?"
Kelly paused, heart in her throat. She didn't sound crazy. Well, her words sounded a little off but they were put together. And that accent, she wondered, European? Russian? No, that's not right, nothing was just Russian any more, was it? It's all Bulgarian or Croatian or something, right? Now the woman finally turned to look at her. "Well?" She asked.
"I... yes. Yes I'll sit with you." Up close she could see the woman's eyes and they were a mixture of green and brown with hidden gold flecks. Kelly sat a few feet away, facing the woman. "I bought some soup and a sandwich. You don't have any food allergies, do you?"
The woman watched her closely. She sat as if she'd never move again, perfectly still. Nearly predatory. Kelly found herself having to remember to breathe now and again. The pressure of the woman's gaze was intense and she never seemed to blink. "No. I have no such things. Do you know? I have sat here since dawn. Here in this cluttered, noisy place. Never once did anyone offer their sympathy or their food. This food, it is not yours but I will accept it."
