Street People

“One copy of the Daily Mail,” I told the paperboy as I flicked him a dollar. As he fumbled with the coin, I swiftly took a December edition newspaper from the stall and continued down my morning route to work, down the battered and worn street I had recently become accustomed to. The streets were badly maintained and littered with potholes. This place is always so busy, yet you feel so isolated, living in your own little bubble, headphones in, eyes down and always having something to do, somewhere to go.

“Got any change?” A raspy voice spoke from somewhere up ahead. I glanced up from my newspaper and saw a heavily bearded man sitting next to a dumpster, asking people walking by for change. It was the same man that sat there every day, asking the same annoying question to the same people, and always getting nothing from it.

I’m so sick of this, I’m sick of having to encounter the same street person every day. I work 60 hours a damn week and I’m still just as broke as you are. I thought to myself. “Got any change?”

I looked down at him, “No I don’t have change! It’ll be a miracle if you catch me with spare money in my pockets!”

He didn’t say anything, he just looked up at me, unfazed. As I walked away, I could feel his eyes burning into my back, but I didn’t turn to look back at him.

“My strategy is to only give them money if they actually ask,” my co-worker Bill explained to me, “otherwise, I’d give away too much money.”

“Wow, look at you go,” I remarked, “well my strategy is to literally be poorer than them, but that doesn’t seem to be working too well. I should be the one asking them for change.”

I stared out the cafe window for the remainder of my shift. I could see the dumpster where I knew he would be sitting. I watched as people walked by, looking down at their phones to read non existent texts. I watched as parents picked up the pace while holding their children’s hands, shielding them from view. Everyone avoided him while making it seem like they had a plausible reason.

As the sun began to retreat over the city skyline and the city nightlife began to emerge, I finished closing the cafe and began the walk to my apartment. As I neared the dumpster, the familiar voice spoke out again, “Change?”.

I simply said, “No,” and continued walking, not bothering to look at him as I spoke or slow down my pace.

The following day, I walked along the battered sidewalk trying not to get in the way of people rushing to work.

“Ugghh! Get out of my way, I’m going to be late to work!” I yelled out with no hope. There was no point in pushing against the crowd, I was being pushed from all sides until I finally squeezed my way out of the crowd.

“Got any change?”

“Ohh great,” I uttered bitterly, “No, I don’t have change! Do you?” “Nah,” he responded despondently, “That’s why I’m asking.”

“Why do you even have to sit here every day? Why do you have to bother people? Everybody else is working crappy jobs, we will literally hire anyone who can put on our uniform!” I snapped back. “So why do you live on the street?”

I watched as his eyebrows deepened, thinking of a response.

“Well, imagine what would have to happen for you to live on the street and it probably happened to me?” He replied calmly.

“Yeah, well a hell of a lot would have to happen for me to lose all my self-esteem and hope and live my life on the street.”

“Yeah... well, I’ve been through it all sister.”

“Right...” I replied slowly, looking at the crowd of people still blocking the sidewalk, ah whatever, I decided “Do you mind if I take a seat?” I asked.

“Nah, not at all. I’m here all day.”

I sat down carefully, making sure not to sit in something that would stain my work uniform.

“Larissa,” I introduced myself, holding my hand out for him to shake.

“George,” he responded, “You know the place next door closed.” “Wait what? The book store? The sign says, ‘closed for renovation’.”

“Nah, I see it all the time in this city. The sign is just them trying to avoid the reality of it.”

“Man, that really sucks. I had some great memories in that place. I used to spend whole afternoons reading books as a kid there wishing time would just freeze. Man, that sucks.” I spoke.

“Yeah, I hate change,” George replied. “Not the money kind, the other kind.” He added.

I chuckled and as I looked into his eyes, I saw for a moment a flicker of hope, or maybe it was just the sun’s reflection.

“Cola?” I offered him, holding out the half-full cup of soft drink I had been holding onto.

“Nah, I know I’m not supposed to have preferences, but I prefer coffee. But I’ll take the cup, some guy stepped on my old one.” He pointed to the crushed coffee cup in front of him.

“Hey, it was nice talking to you, but I need to get to work.” I got up, quickly finishing the coke and handing him the cup.

“It was nice meeting you sister.” He said as I disappeared amongst the crowd of people.

“Is that all?” The cashier asked.

“Actually, I’ll get a coffee instead ofthat cola thanks.” I responded. “No problem, have a great Christmas.”

I walked through the snow-covered sidewalk, holding a hot cup of coffee, with the name George written across the side, between both hands. I walked with purpose, towards the dumpster where I expected to find him but when I arrived George was no one where to be seen. I stood there in the snow as people walked past in their own little bubbles, headphones in, eyes down and somewhere to go. It’s crazy how fast things can come and go.

By Jaden Thesman (Year 9)