Curt

Curt started on his way out of the alley when he noticed a man in a hoodie at the other end of the alley change direction and purposefully head towards him.  This was a not good sign, he thought, getting concerned.

The man got within a couple of steps of Curt, and pulled out a knife. “Give me all your fucking money!”  he yelled. Pointing the knife directly at Curt, the man added “Your wallet! Give me your fucking wallet!”.  Followed by another threatening move with the knife.

Curt slowly held up his hands, trying to be as non-threatening as possible.  He reached around to his left rear pocket, pulling out his wallet he carefully gave it to the hooded man.  The man grabbed it with his free hand, immediately opening it up looking for cash.  Visibly disappointed, he said, “This is it?  This all you fucking have?  15 fucking dollars?”  Clearly pissed, he continued, “You’re a waste of time!”  He put the money that was in the wallet into his own pocket and turned to make his way out of the alley.

Then Curt says, as if an afterthought, “Wait, I have another, …”, reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out some more cash, and sizing it up says, “… 23 dollars.  Here.”  He handed the money over.

The man quickly snatched it away from Curt, then started back towards the end of the alley.  Two steps in, he stopped.  Motionless for a few seconds, then slowly turned around.  The man sends a penetrating look at Curt, a confused look.  Mad as ever he, yells; “Why the fuck did you do that?”

Just as confused, Curt said as calmly as possible, “Because you told me to.”

“No, you asshole!”, holding up the second wad of Curt’s cash.  “Why did you give me this?” he yelled, still mad, shaking the wad of money so Curt knew what he was talking about.  “I didn’t know it you had it.  I didn’t know where it was.”  He put his hand with the money down to his side, and putting the tip of the knife at Curt’s chest, said; “You could have just said nothing, let me walk away. You’d still have 23 dollars.”

Curt, thought for a moment and said, “I thought you needed it more than I did.”

This was not what the man expected to hear.  It enraged him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?  You don’t know anything about me! You have no right to even guess what I need!”

Curt didn’t know what to say, he didn’t seem to be doing a good job so far of keeping him calm.  But Curt was Curt, and he said from his heart, “You’re right I don’t know who you are or what you need.  But if you want to tell me, I can be a good listener.”

The man, now totally confused, shot back.  “What are you some kind of religious nut?”

Curt took a breadth, and replied softly “No.”  Then looking down, said to himself, “Not anymore.”

“What are you?  You have a job?”

“I’m a painter.”

“What, like you paint pictures of people and things?”

Curt, replied with a half-smile, “I paint walls mostly.  Usually some shade of white.”  He added, “Oh, and I do the trim too.”

The man, satisfied that he seems to be finally understanding something, said “That explains your wallet.”

Curt commented, “Well, I’m not rich, but I do have bed and a room that I can call my own.  And I don’t go hungry.  I guess I am just content.”

From Curt’s point of view the hooded person in front of him was still a kid, in his mid-twenties.  A kid unprepared to be thrust into adulthood.  He could feel his anxiety.

“So, you want me to tell you all about myself?  How I never had a mother or father, in and out of foster homes until I aged out.  I am a fucking survivor!” he triumphantly declared.  “And right now, I am the one with the knife and the money and in control.”

Curt said calmly, “You are.  I don’t know what it is like not having parents. Mine were loving, and I miss them dearly every day.  I guess I had all the breaks.  So, yeah, I don’t know you.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“Why the fuck do you care? I am stealing your money, threatening your life!  And you care about me?  Nobody cares about anyone but themselves.”

Curt shot back, “That’s not true.  People can care about each other.  And right now, I can’t say if I care about you or not.  I just don’t know you.”

He looked at Curt confused. Then as if to call Curt’s bluff, opened up saying, “I’ve been in foster homes for as long as I can remember.  I guess my parents abandoned me real young.”  His pride ebbing ever so slightly he continued, “It’s not easy being passed around from one home to another, some ‘thing’ to make money off of.”  He said, “I never lasted more than a year in a home.”  Then paused for a minute.

Curt, sensing he was opening up asked, “You got a name?”

The man, much calmer now, inwardly panicked at the request, replying quickly, “Charlie”.

“I’m Curt, but you probably noticed that from my wallet.”  Charlie did not, but was glad to know his name.

Curt then asked, “Wasn’t there even one home, or foster family that you liked?”

Charlie looked at Curt, and said, “Maybe”.  “Miss Tilly’s wasn’t that bad.”  He said with a small smile emerging.  “She certainly had the best food.  But I was only there for a year.”

Curt then asked, “What happened?”

Saddened, Charlie said, “I happened.”  Curt, visibly confused, waited for Charlie to explain.  “I fucked up.  I got arrested for stealing some cigarettes and spend 6 months in juvie. Miss Tilly needed the money so had to replace me with someone else.  When I got out, I had to go somewhere else.”

Pointing to the bench, Curt asked Charlie, “Do you mind if I sit down?  I am not as young as I once was.”  And proceeded to sit down.  Charlie just propped himself up against the opposite wall.  They were both quiet for a moment.

Charlie, pulled out Curt’s wallet and studied it.  He looked up at Curt and asked, “Is this your kid?” referring to an old picture of a smiling young teen in the wallet where a driver’s license would normally be.

Curt just said, “Yeah”.

Charlie said, “You really need to get newer one, this picture looks old. It’s falling apart.”

A visible wave of sadness overcame Curt.  With noticeable effort he said, “That’s my son, Jeffery, he died just a couple of weeks after that picture was taken.

For the first time in the conversation, Charlie was taken aback, and felt something for Curt.  “How did he die?”

Curt, building the courage to answer said, “He killed himself.” 

Charlie regretted asking that now, saying “I’m sorry.”  Then added, “I guess I don’t know you either.”

Curt broke the silence and asked, “Got any girlfriends?”

Charlie answered pridefully and sarcastically, “Plenty, the ladies just can’t get enough of this” using the knife to point to himself.

“Anyone special?”

Charlie looked down, and shook his head, “No.  The girls love ya when you when you buying the dinners, drinks and drugs, but when ya ain’t, they dry up pretty quickly.”

Curt said, “Then those aren’t the girls for you.  The right one will come along, probably when you least expect it.”

Charlie asked, “How about you?  You married?”

Curt replied wistfully, “No, not anymore.”  He went on, “When Jeffery died, we grieved in different ways.  She isolated herself, and I took to drink.”

Charlie, a little skeptical just blurted out, “You a drunk?”

“Got my two-year chip last month, so yes.  It’s not easy, but it doesn’t control me anymore.  I make the decisions; I own my life now.”

They both remained silent.  Taking it all in.  Neither had an easy life.

Then Charlie got to the point; “What’s it like being loved by someone?”

The question took Curt completely off guard.  In that moment he knew what Charlie was missing, and what he had lost.

Curt thought for a moment. “It’s the greatest and most scary feeling anyone can have.”  Curt struggled to find the right words.  “You can be having a really shitty day, or screw up royally.  And yet you know that while they might not be happy with you, they still care about you.

“Being loved by someone doesn’t mean you can get away with anything.  It doesn’t even mean you will always be loved.  There are no guarantees.  But when you are loved, and you let it happen, it is like warm bath.  It feels good all around you, and for the moment it’s all you think you’ll ever need.

“Being loved doesn’t come cheap, and usually requires loving back.  For some it lasts forever, for others it is way too short.”

Silence fell as Charlie took it all in.

Curt still didn’t know what Charlie needed right then, nor what he wanted.  But he could give what he had.  He stood up and took a step towards Charlie.  Charlie wasn’t sure what Curt was doing and straightened himself up and took a step toward Curt.

Nothing was said, but dialogs of understanding were exchanged.  Curt took one more step towards Charlie and slowly opened his arms.  Charlie wasn’t sure what he was doing, he just fell into Curt’s arms.  Charlie had never been hugged by anyone before.  He didn’t know what to do with his arms.  The knife and wallet in his hands fell to the ground. 

Curt gently squeezed tighter, both holding him up and letting him rest his head on Curt’s shoulders.  Charlie didn’t need to do anything.  Charlie didn’t want to do anything.

Then he started crying.  A little at first, then full on convulsive sobbing.  Curt too started to tear in his eye.  Charlie reached around Curt, squeezing him back.

Minutes or hours went by.  Neither could tell.  Charlie slowly released his grip, and Curt followed.

Charlie bent down and picked up the wallet and knife.  He gave the wallet back to Curt.  Then he reached into the pockets of his hoodie and pulled out the cash he had taken earlier.  He offered it to Curt, but Curt just said, “No.  Like I said before I think you need it more than I do.”

Charlie wasn’t going to argue.  Curt continued by saying, “This is yours, all 38 bucks. It’s not much, but you can spend it on anything you want.  You are in control; you control your life.  Show the world what you can do.”

Charlie put the money back in his pockets, and nodded to Curt.  He wiped the last remaining tears from his face.  Then slowly started walking out of the alley.

Curt called out to Charlie, his thumb pointing over his shoulder at the building he came out of earlier, “If you can be here tomorrow morning by 8, I can offer you a decent wage, making dirty walls white.  It’ll be a full day’s work at least, and if it works out, we can make it last longer.”

Charlie didn’t say anything, just smiled and continued walking out of the alley.

Five years later

Charlie stepped out of the building and onto the sidewalk.  There was a big smile on his face. He just signed his first contract for a gig of his own.  The last 5 years were spent working for others.  That first opportunity Curt gave him seemed like an eternity ago.  Now he was managing his own job, organizing the labor, procuring the products.  He was starting a right and proper career.

This deserved an ice cream treat.  A quick shortcut through the park to get the Dairy Bar before they closed for the evening.  It was dark, and the path was not well lit. From out of nowhere a man with a gun stepped out in from of him.  Shaking a little, he pointed it towards Charlie and said, “Gimmie me all your money, now!”  Sensing the man’s nervousness Charlie reached for his wallet and gave it to him.  The man opened the wallet and took all the money out, throwing the empty wallet on the ground.  Then he started to walk away.

Before he could get more than a step away, Charlie called out, “Hey, wait.”  He reached into his other back pocket and pulled out an old folded envelope.  Then said to the thief, “Here’s another 38 dollars.”  The thief grabbed it out of Charlie’s hand and continued to walk away.

Two steps in, he stopped.  Motionless for a few seconds, then slowly turned around.

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