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 By Rudy Baldacci
It was noon on a day God built for
children to run through from first light to pitch dark. That's when I
saw this homeless person. You couldn't help but notice him because he
was cradling a pigeon. I followed him because I was concerned for the
bird's welfare. I'm as cautious as the next urban dweller but there
comes a point when even our feelings can be aroused.
"Don't
you think it would be prudent to let it go?" I asked, thinking that my
directness might startle him enough to allow the pigeon to escape. He
just smiled and continued to stroke the bird with burnt-looking hands;
they were even, methodical strokes, which impressed me.
"Do you want to give it to me?" Birds don't usually
concern me all that much but I really had a funny feeling about this.
"Also they carry awful diseases," I added, just in case he was planning
on cooking it, a real possibility I knew. He walked on, actually
motioning for me to follow. The streets were full so I did, realizing
that you could only carry these things so far.
As
I watched the narrow slopes of his shoulder and his jagged clothing, it
occurred to me that it seemed an absolute shame that homeless people
couldn't grow fur during the cold months. Why were we deemed so
advanced after all? At his elbow I said, "I'm not positive, but I'm
pretty sure that bird belongs to the city."
He
turned to me. "This bird belongs to no one, ma'am." His voice was deep
and beautiful, like photos I'd seen of clear Hawaiian water that you
just knew went on forever. He walked on and there was nothing I could
do but follow. We turned a corner and stopped by a big marble dolphin.
He sat the pigeon down, reached over behind the dolphin's fin, pulled
out a sketch pad and began to draw.
I
pondered whether to move on but I wasn't convinced and I'm one who
survives on conviction. It was mid-day and I had nothing else to do so
why not see this through?
"You from around here?"
I
watched his hands flow until the bird reappeared on the cream paper
like a Polaroid come to life. Then the pigeon wandered off and he just
let it go.
"Just around," I answered
carefully. Now his hands were busily flowing again, and his eyes darted
out to me and then drew back like they were transporting me, molecule
by molecule, to the cream paper where I would be reborn. He appeared
very serious. I used to be like that, plunging into things with a
straight set of lips and fussy hands, some of my concoctions were truly
inspiring.
Now he was scrutinizing me
so closely I was deeply uncomfortable. Please understand, I hadn't even
been photographed in years. I had no idea how I looked any more.
He started packing up his materials.
"May I see it?" I asked.
"I do not have certain highlights that I need. It must be right. You come back tomorrow."
With that he walked off and left me staring after him until he disappeared into the rush of the world.
"I'm not certain I can be available tomorrow," I said. I would be back, though. You tell me: What else was there to do?
"You're
meeting who?" Louise looked at me sternly. I wasn't sure where I was
but the dark, little room had a thick smell that made me lightheaded,
like wine in the afternoon. I laid down on the floor; Louise was
propped against the wall next to me. I felt the subway rumble nearby.
"You're
crazy, I bet he's crazy," she continued. I remember Louise as having
freckled skin and pretending to wear expensive clothes. As little girls
we had tea often.
"I don't think he's crazy," I said. "He's an artist."
"All artists are crazy," Louise said. How sane can he be sleeping on concrete and eating out of trash cans?"
"It can happen," I said, "it could happen to you or me."
"They
all have gigs you know, scams, whatever," Louise added. "One guy over
on Twentieth Street screams out nursery rhymes all day long and his hat
fills up like you wouldn't believe. He probably makes more than a
doctor and all tax-free. It's a crime."
I
knew the man she was talking about and it would never occur to him that
he was committing a crime. I also knew he had grandchildren, somewhere.
"I'll
go with you," Louise said as she closed her eyes and then popped them
open. As a child, I had always enjoyed playing with the ever faithful
Louise.
"I don't think that would be
fair to him," I said, although I wasn't sure why the fairness issue was
suddenly important since I had invited myself into his life in the
first place. "I promise to be careful. It's a question of highlights
really. A few minutes, I'm sure that's all it will be." I said this
knowing full well that I would do my best to stretch it into an all day
event. Louise looked at me and then her head flopped to one side, her
eyes closed and she fell silent. I was tired of playing.
I
made my way out of the subway. The breezes you could sometimes catch
here were so invigorating, but you had to anticipate them. When the
gust hit me I had to clutch my hat with both hands and almost lost my
coat but a kind gentleman dressed all in blue with a vigorous manner
came by and soon had me on my way after quietly reminding me I should
not be here. There is compassion, there is thankfulness, don't ever let
them convince you otherwise.
Thirty-two
years ago my mother and I were electrocuted inside of the big white
building on a distant hill. I escaped relatively untouched and they
sent me on my way. Unfortunately, power like that does not forget. I
have been running from the voltage ever since. Now I am here, and I do
get by, and tomorrow I have my appointment.
It
was five minutes to twelve when I sat next to the dolphin. I put my
back against the cool marble, crossed my legs and noticed the
beginnings of another sore on my calf. The second I pressed it I knew
it was infected. This worried me because with the fall coming the chill
could easily set in my bones at night. The explosion of a fire engine
racing down the street made me turn my head and then I strained to hear
the bells of St. Thomas announce the noon Mass. I would probably end up
there after my appointment. The pews were hard, but not quite as
unbearable as other things.
When I
looked back my friend was standing there readying his materials. He
smiled and I smiled back, a little hesitantly because a small crowd was
beginning to gather. I had stood among many crowds listening to the
street musicians who play with as much desire as they needed in order
to get by. I had often wanted to throw some coins in the trombone box
but I always pulled it back at the last instant. I would run, dodging
the sounds of the music until I disappeared into the depths of the
traffic. I could always run, my legs are still long and slender, like
the young pony I grew up into and then out of. I have never been hit by
a car, not once. I have been scared, terribly so, but never harmed. If
you called me lucky, I would not disagree.
I
put one hand out and touched the dolphin's fin. They say dolphins will
help drowning people or guide lost ships to safety. I've also heard
that, not knowing any better, they will lead people deep into the
ocean, playing games, thinking we survive there, flourish even, until
it is too late. I don't know which is true. Perhaps, like many things,
both versions are. Dolphins and people -- so much alike. I looked over
at my friend as he frowned and rolled his hands to his silent
orchestra. When I climbed up on the dolphin's back my plastic bag
spilled and I heard all my possessions clattering through the street
like children at play, romping through the broad sunlight, looking for
mischief to collide with, adults to dare. Poor Louise hit the pavement
hard and just lay there.
I inched
forward until my hand pressed against the dolphin's eye and I lay on
its long, curved snout. I considered this to be a perfect fit. I was so
tired that even the noise from the crown couldn't penetrate my
weariness. My friend stood right in the center of them, a few paces of
clear space all around. The soft, luxurious dips and rises of his hand
were as therapeutic and kind as anything done to me before. I was so
happy I began to cry, to weep heavy tears of gratitude for my friends,
for their presence here today.
I felt
one of my shoes drop to the pavement, and my toes curled as I struggled
to maintain my perch. When I felt myself sliding I looked for my friend
again but his square of pavement was empty. I strained to see him
through the crowd but the glare of the sun made this too painful and so
I called out to him. I looked at the crowd and saw them reach out to
me. Right before I fell I looked once more for my friend and then
realized that he probably had gone for some more highlights. I could
understand how terrible it is when things are just not right.
© 1998 by David Baldacci; Illustration by Rudy Baldacci
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