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Mary Paige felt her patience snap. “Listen, buddy. I have had a hell of a day. And my ex-boyfriend stole the last of my cash. So give me a break!”
The man stepped back, throwing up his hands before giving her a smart-ass gesture toward the ATM.
“Thank you,” she managed to say between gritted teeth.
She prayed as she entered her PIN that her account wasn’t overdrawn. Things had been so hectic lately that she hadn’t checked her balance in a few days.Please, please let this stupid machine spit out the money.
The machine whirred and coughed out the amount she’d requested – thirty bucks.
Whew.
Mary Paige hurried to the counter, ignoring the huffing construction worker with his garlic breath. “Happens to the best of us, right?”
The cashier merely held out her hand, giving no response. Mary Paige dumped the money into her hand, including all the change she could scratch up from the bottom of her purse, including a small straw wrapper. The cashier looked at her hand and then cleared her throat.
“Oh, sorry,” Mary Paige said, leaning over and taking a few pennies from the take-a-penny, leave-a-penny container on the counter. “There you go.”
Grabbing the bag with the socks and the hot coffee, she swerved around Big and Beefy, and stalked out the door.
“Ow.” Hot coffee splashed on her fingers through the drinking spout. “Double darn it.”
She shook the liquid off, caught sight of the cab still waiting – thank God – and shoved the bag under her arm as she held up a finger indicating that he wait just a bit longer. Then she headed around the corner to the old man living in boxes.
As she approached the alley, deja-vu swamped her. How many times had she done something like this? Ten? Twenty? More? As much as she wished she was a focused, career girl, she truly was more Stay Puft than lunch martinis. Not even the man’s rudeness would keep her from doing what she knew needed to be done.
“Yoo-hoo? Mister? I have a little something to warm you up.” She stood in front of a dumpster that had a refrigerator box jammed between it and the building. Surely, he didn’t live here. She couldn’t see the owners of the gas station allowing that. Flaps hung over, providing little shelter, and the man seemed to be curled inside, wet newspapers his only protection. A broken cyclone fence stretched behind him, leading the way to an abandoned bakery with yawning windows. Dismal wasn’t the word for the corner of the world in which this man sat, freezing in the rain.
He said nothing, but he knew she was there.
“I brought you some coffee.”
The papers moved. “What the hell’d ya want? Ain’t got no money.”
“It’s coffee. Free coffee.” She held the cup aloft.
“Free?” The man unfurled like a gray troll from beneath a bridge, his grizzled face parting sodden sales flyers, regarding her with faded blue eyes. “Coffee, you said?”
Mary Paige thrust the cup toward him.
His eyes took her in from head to toe, causing a flash of alarm. But then he looked away, lifting his thin arm toward the steaming cup. As he leaned forward, she got a good look at him. His pants were thin and faded, the flannel shirt threadbare in a few spots, but most frightening of all were the bare feet that emerged.
Aw, heck no. Not bare feet. Anything but bare feet.
The plastic bag with the socks beneath her arm grew heavy.
Pretend like you don’t see his bare feet, Mary Paige. Just give him the coffee and go.
But she knew she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
“Triple darn,” she said aloud.
They had been the last pair – only one pair of truly horrendous Christmas socks. But now she knew they hadn’t been intended for anyone at Uncle Fred’s house. Not for Aunt Betty with her giant mole or Uncle Trav with his chainsmoking habit or Mr. Dan the eccentric butcher who showed up at the party ever year even though he’d never been truly invited. Nope, these socks had been meant for the homeless guy who’d flipped her the finger.
She stooped down, meeting his gnarled fingers with the hot cup of coffee. “You shouldn’t be out here with bare feet. It’s too cold.”
The man took slurping sips of the hot coffee as if it were nothing more than lukewarm tea. “Yes, shoes would help, I imagine.”
“Well, I don’t have shoes, but I happen to have a pair of socks right here. How about we get these on you? You don’t want to lose any toes. Then perhaps I can help you get to a shelter where you can get some hot food and a warm place to stay tonight.”
