Short story by Lea Bucksch
I tried not to shiver as I emptied my cup to count the coins. Wow, three Dollars. That’s barely enough for a hot coffee. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the people talking around me. Just focusing on my little bench was the right thing to do in order to calm down. I tried feeling the hardwood underneath my legs and the cold drying out my lips. With every deep breath I took, the cold air stung in my nose, but the gentle pain helped me to focus on the important things; today’s earnings. I pushed the money around in my palm, trying to resign myself to the fact that those few coins resting on top of my black, worn out gloves were the only money I got today. Looks like I’ll have to go another day without food. With just the thought of it, my stomach started protesting. I really didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to live like this.
I tried warming my numb fingers by rubbing them together, but it was really just a task to keep me busy. Keeping yourself busy is essential if you’re trying to block out the hunger and cold. It felt like, with every snowflake that fell, I got a little colder, my fingers a little number and my nose a little redder.
I learned pretty quickly that winter was the worst time of the year, but this time it was worse than usual. It wouldn’t stop snowing and everyone was in a bad mood. Usually, around Christmas, the people passing my bench were really generous. Usually, I get more than three dollars. One the other hand, usually I am more active than I was today. While staring at my dirty, holey sneakers, looking gross in comparison to the white snow blanket around them, I couldn’t help but ask myself how all of this happened. How did I lose control so quickly? When did I let this happen? How do I get out of here? I was torn away from my thoughts as I heard the coughing of a passing man. I quickly raised my cup without looking at him. I could never bring myself to look into their eyes. He didn’t even stop, while he hissed: “Ugh. Go get a job. That’s gross.”
I slowly lowered my cup into my lap. I felt my eyes burning and quickly wiped away my tears. The gloves leaving a scratching feeling on my cheek. I know by now I shouldn’t get upset by those comments anymore, but it still hit me every time; I just couldn’t help it. I am so sick of people saying that. They don’t know what it feels like. They don’t know it’s out of my control. They don’t know-. I hesitated. Is it though? Is it out of my control? All this time I just told myself there is nothing I can do about it, that I just had to accept the things the way they turned out. I looked at the empty cup. What if I was wrong all along? What if it was in my control all along? I felt a rush of energy shooting through my veins. It was like my vigorous spirit suddenly left my freezing and weak body behind to fulfill its destiny.
I got up and just when I was about to grab my bags it hit me. I had to leave everything here. I couldn’t risk backing out again. I had to leave everything behind. I had to prove to them that I was ready to change. For real this time. I just had to.
With shaking hands, I reached for the inside of my jacket to grab the small piece of paper; The one thing that made me always believe in life again. The one thing that kept me from drowning in my own silence completely. Even though the photograph faded over the years, her blue eyes still shone as bright as the sea. It’s the only thing she got from me. All the other features she got from her mother, the pointy nose, her black curly hair and even the smirk she carried on her face. I flipped it around to read the address. Hopefully, they hadn’t moved. I looked at my bags and the bench for one last time. I’d never return. I turned around and made my way to the city.
I’d rather not mention how almost everyone refused to talk to me or how they didn’t even look at the address before they denied knowing where it was. Honestly, I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t like me if I met me. I felt completely lost between the tall buildings around me. Just another lost soul in the ocean of actual functioning people. Right when I couldn’t feel my legs anymore and wanted to give up again, there was this exceptionally kind woman. She had kind eyes and a vibrating aura. She didn’t know where the street was, but she was so nice as to look it up on her phone and even accompanied me for a short while. I could barely believe my luck.
I finally saw the sign that matched the address. I started walking faster until I was almost running. I didn’t care about the cold or even the slick sidewalk. The cold wind whipping my face didn’t even matter. My freezing fingers were quickly forgotten. The only thing I could feel was my heart beating in my chest. Number 2; the blood rushing in my ears. Number 4; my breath accelerating. Number 6; the adrenaline warming my head and stomach. I was almost there. I abruptly stopped. Number 8. A plain copper building with a heavy green door.
I lifted my hand to knock at the door, but I froze in the motion. I saw my breath in front of me, like little clouds trying to escape my body. What if she didn’t want to see me? What if she forgot about me? The last time I saw her, she was just a toddler. I remember her mother saying she looked exactly like me. By the thought of her, I couldn’t help myself but smile. I knocked at the door.
It was an unnaturally cold winter day. Everyone was wrapped in their scarves and had pulled their hats deep into their faces. No one was out here voluntarily. For heaven’s sake, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have this stupid appointment, but I guess that’s what I signed up for when I decided to take over a whole company. I just couldn’t stand the cold. The quicker I got there, the better. I tried imagining myself in my bathtub at home, listening to some of my favorite Jazz songs. I was going to treat myself tonight. I really deserved it after putting up with this weather. Just when I was about to turn, I saw a man lying on a bench across the street.
The small park was a popular spot for all the poor souls that didn’t have a place to call their own. It had to be a hard time for every homeless person in town. I started walking over to him. Giving him some of my spare money wouldn’t kill me. “Hard day today, hm?” He didn’t respond. I shook his shoulder to wake him up. “Come on. You shouldn’t fall asleep here, you’ll freeze.” But he still didn’t respond. Instead, his hand slacked and something he held in there fell to the white ground. While I was calling the ambulance, I picked it up, hoping it contained some personal information about him. It was just a picture of a toddler smiling into the camera.
The Creative Corner is intended as a place for Hamilton Students to have their creative voices heard and is not a reflection of the journalistic standards that Charger Press holds itself to. Any opinions expressed are that of the author/artist/creator and not the views of Charger Press student newspaper or the Hamilton School District.