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I lived my life, went to community college, got a good job. All that time I tried to help her, even let her live with me for a time, until I caught her stealing from me and using drugs. I thought I had to kick her out, that it would wake her up.
It didn’t.
Then I found her living on the streets. Lost, alone, drugged out.
I should have stayed. I should have fixed her.
The new homeless vet came over to me. “Here,” he said, handing me a bottle of water.
I took it, mumbled a thanks, drank.
This guy wasn’t like so many of the other homeless people. His clothes were dirty and he looked like he had slept on the street for a few weeks—his hair shaggy under a knit cap, layered shirts, boots old and scuffed. But I could tell his shoes were heavy-duty, durable work boots. Could have been name-brand. Maybe he’d picked them up at a thrift store.
But what stood out most was his eyes. They were very green, very sharp. He wasn’t on drugs, at least not now, and he didn’t seem to be drunk or coming down off a high. After working with the homeless for a few years, I could tell when someone was an addict—whether they were high, coming down or going through the early stages of withdrawal.
“How do you know Dev and Jake?” I asked, trying to forget about my mother. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as she finally allowed the paramedics to check her blood pressure and vitals. Will had worked his magic.
He shrugged. Didn’t answer. He, too, was watching Will and my mom.
I finished the water. I didn’t want to be here. I couldn’t leave.
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
“Then whose fault is it?” I didn’t mean to sound so angry, so aggressive. I bit my lip, but didn’t apologize.
He shrugged again. “No one’s? Everyone’s? Your mom’s?”
How did he know Jane was my mom? Had Will told him? Or had he heard everything?
“You don’t live on the streets,” I said suddenly. “Not regularly.”
He slowly smiled. His teeth—they were clean and white. That was it, that’s why I’d thought he looked different than everyone else, why he didn’t quite fit in. He looked homeless on the surface. Clothes, attitude, walk. He smelled like stale beer.
But he didn’t regularly use drugs, his teeth were too clean. His eyes were too bright and alert for him to be a serious drunk. Maybe something had happened, like he lost his house or was going through a divorce. Maybe he was suffering PTSD like Dev and Jake.
He was definitely different.
Will came over and said, “They’re taking her to the public hospital. Her blood pressure is high, her pupils are nonresponsive, she has a fever and is acting erratic.”
“So they’ll get a 5150 hold?” I asked, optimistic.
“Doubtful,” Will said. “I’ll work on it, call a couple people, but chances are once she stabilizes they’ll let her go.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Do you expect a different outcome?” Will asked quietly.
I’d been through this with my mother over and over since I found her four years ago. Trying to help, only to have her reject my help every step of the way. I thought when I got her the apartment two years ago that it was a turning point...but she’d gotten worse since she’d lost the place.
“I have to try,” I said.
He nodded. “We’ll go this afternoon. I’ll do everything I can.”
Fletch walked down the sidewalk, watching the ambulance pull away. Gina went to him, pointing toward my mom’s tent. The stranger walked over to where Dev and Jake were working. “Who is that guy?” I asked Will. “He seems too clean, and not just his appearance.”
“I don’t know his story yet,” Will said, but didn’t look at me. Was he lying? Did he know him?
“What’s his name?”
