Chapter 14
He was moving incredibly slowly,
limping slightly on his left leg,
and carrying a torn,
and terribly dirty plastic grocery bag,
clutched tightly against his thin chest.
I followed him from a very safe distance,
staying in the dark shadows of the old buildings,
and darting quickly behind parked cars,
whenever he stopped to catch his breath.
He didn't look back even a single time,
his head completely bowed against the bitter wind,
his entire existence focused entirely on survival,
and putting one heavy foot in front of the other.
He led me away from the busy shelter area,
walking toward the abandoned rail yards,
where the massive,
and rusting train cars sat rotting in the snow.
This part of the city was completely deserted,
a forgotten wasteland of broken glass,
and crumbling concrete walls,
a place where nobody ever came by choice.
I watched as he squeezed through a large gap,
in the rusty chain-link fence,
and disappeared into the maze of old trains,
vanishing completely from my sight.
I hesitated for a long,
and incredibly anxious moment on the sidewalk,
wondering if I should follow him into the yard,
or wait out here in the freezing cold.
I took a deep,
and very steadying breath of the icy air,
and pushed myself through the broken fence,
the sharp metal snagging loudly on my heavy coat.
I moved quietly between the massive steel cars,
my boots stepping carefully over the frozen tracks,
listening intently for any sound of movement,
in the terrifyingly silent rail yard.
I smelled the smoke before I saw the fire,
the distinct,
and incredibly acrid scent of burning trash,
drifting softly through the freezing winter air.
I crept slowly around the end of a boxcar,
and peeked carefully around the rusted metal edge,
holding my breath in sheer anticipation.
He was sitting on an overturned plastic bucket,
warming his bare,
and terribly dirty hands over a small fire,
built inside half of a rusted oil drum.
His small camp was incredibly pathetic,
consisting of a few wet cardboard boxes,
and a sleeping bag covered in thin patches of ice,
tucked underneath the overhang of the train car.
I stood there in the shadows for a long time,
watching my wife's only son shiver in the cold,
feeling a complex,
and incredibly confusing mixture of deep pity,
and absolutely burning anger.
He had thrown away every single advantage,
destroyed every chance we had ever given him,
and now he was reduced to this miserable existence,
living like a rat in the frozen ruins.
I knew I had to speak to him right now,
to establish my strict boundaries immediately,
and make sure he stayed far away from our family.
I stepped slowly out from behind the train car,
my boots crunching loudly on the frozen gravel,
and the sudden noise echoed sharply in the quiet yard,
making him jump in complete surprise.
He spun around wildly on the plastic bucket,
his eyes wide with immediate,
and deeply ingrained street panic,
expecting a violent attack from another vagrant,
or the blinding flashlight of a police officer.
He stared at me through the smoky air,
squinting his eyes against the weak morning light,
trying desperately to recognize the tall figure,
standing silently in the snow before him.
It took him several long seconds to realize,
as his confused expression slowly twisted,
and morphed into a look of absolute,
and completely undisguised shock.
David,
he whispered hoarsely,
his voice cracked,
and completely ruined from the freezing cold,
and the years of heavy abuse.
Hello, Aaron,
I replied coldly,
keeping my distance from his small fire,
and refusing to show even a single ounce of warmth,
or any sign of weakness in my stiff posture.
What the hell are you doing here,
he asked slowly,
standing up from the bucket with great effort,
his hands balling tightly into weak fists,
at his sides.
I saw you yesterday at the shelter,
I stated plainly,
getting straight to the absolute point of my visit,
and I came to make sure you understand,
that you cannot be anywhere near that building again.
He let out a harsh,
and incredibly bitter laugh,
shaking his head in absolute disbelief,
and spitting a glob of phlegm into the dirty snow.
You followed me all the way down here,
just to tell me where I can eat my soup,
he mocked loudly,
his tone dripping with the old,
and deeply familiar arrogance I hated so much.
I followed you to protect my wife,
I countered sharply,
my voice rising with a sudden burst of anger,
Diane was serving food in that exact same room,
and if you had looked up for one second,
you would have destroyed her completely.
His face dropped instantly at the mention of her name,
the tough exterior cracking just a tiny fraction,
revealing a glimpse of the broken boy underneath,
and he looked away toward the rusting train cars.
My mother was there,
he asked quietly,
his voice losing all of its angry edge,
and sounding incredibly small,
and profoundly sad in the cold wind.
Yes, she was,
I answered firmly,
and she thinks you are living in California,
working a steady job and doing incredibly well,
because that is the only story that keeps her sane.
I took a step closer to his small fire,
staring directly into his defeated,
and terribly bloodshot eyes.
You are not going to ruin that illusion for her,
I commanded strictly,
May you like
you are going to stay far away from our lives,
or I will make things much worse for you.
