William Lester Smith

What's one man's junk is another man's treasure....

I wonder how many people have lost someone they love. They don’t think they matter to you but they mean the world to you. Have you ever felt that way about someone? It hurts when they leave. No warning. They just… disappear. They don’t tell you why. You just… never see them again. You never get to tell them how much they matter to you, how much you love them. You’re stuck there, wishing you had told them, but knowing now you can’t--knowing you are forever without them now. It’s honestly extremely heartbreaking. You’d be amazed at how heart wrenching it is.

 

            I was out with a friend, just having a grand ole time, when I recognized someone walking by the curb of the gas station we had stopped at. It was really late out and I was curious as to why he was just wondering around at midnight. I cautiously got out of my girlfriend’s car and spoke his name from a safe distance away so he didn’t feel threatened.

            “Hey, William,” I slowly walked toward him, “what’s up? Why aren’t you somewhere safe?”

            “Ah, I’m just tryin’ to find a place to sleep.” He pulled his fingers through his matted gray hair and looked down.

            “You know, you’re always welcome at my house,” I said putting my hand on his shoulder. “We’ve missed you these past couple months. We haven’t heard from you in a while.”

            “Yeah. I know.” He wouldn’t make eye contact and that’s when I smelled it. He was drunk, which meant he hadn’t eaten in days. I gave him a big hug until he hugged me back.

            “Come by the house tomorrow night,” I said while straightening his jacket. “Don’t argue with me, just come by. You need to eat something more than that cheap liquor you buy. Got me?”

            “Yes ma’am,” he said while smiling. “You really are some’min’.” He looked extremely tired and I would have taken him to my house but my mom said he wasn’t allowed to walk into the house unless he was sober. And he clearly wasn’t sober. His eyes were bloodshot, his words slurred just a little, and he swayed standing still. I really didn’t want to leave him there with the news saying it was supposed to be getting into the forties.

            “You stay warm, now, William,” I zipped up his jacket and saw the little holes in the elbows. “Ya hear me? You get somethin small to eat, enough so you aren’t hungry but not too much to make ya sick, and you hunker down somewhere warm.” I hugged him again saying, “I don’t wanna hear about you freezin on the news, k?”

            “Yes ma’am.” He squeezed me real tight and then stepped back. “I’ve got a friend’s house I’m goin to. Don’t worry bout me. I’ll be fine.” He started to walk away, but I quickly went into the car and grabbed something for him.

            “Here.” I handed him a soft small blanket. “It’s not much, but it should keep some the cold away.” I squeezed his arm lovingly and smiled at him. “Sleep well. ‘Night, hun.”

            “Night.” He gave me one of his rare smiles and walked away into the shadows. I never thought that was the last time I was ever going to see him. His child-like faith in the world. Even though he was so much older than me, he was like my brother. He never did come by to have dinner. He never did come by to see me one last time. No matter how much I had told him to be safe, he wasn’t safe enough.

            Night after: Sunday:

            “Hey, Mum,” I hollered into the house, “William’s comin for dinner. Do we have pork chops?” I put my keys on the key ring and headed into the kitchen at the back of the house, past the living room, the computer room, and my mother’s room, to see my mom preparing dinner.

            “No, but I can call Shawn to pick some up,” Shayla turned around and smiled at me. “When did you see him?”

            “Last night,” I said sitting down at the dinner table and taking my jacket off. “He was walking around. I told him he didn’t have a choice and that he was gonna have dinner here.” I smiled wearily at the uneasy feeling in my stomach.

            “What’s eatin ya,” she asked me while taking out different ingredients for the pork chops and putting up the other ingredients she had had out. I watched as she texted Shawn real quick to buy pork chops.

            “Nothin,” I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed, “just got this really bad feelin. I don’t like it. What if William doesn’t come? Do you think he’ll come?” Shayla laughed in her loud almost obnoxious way and wiped her hands on the towel that was shoved through her belt loop.

            “If he knows we’re havin pork chops, he’ll be here.” She ruffled my hair. “Don’t worry bout it, k?”

            “Ok.” I closed my eyes and tried to wipe away the horrible images of him frozen to death in an ally way. When Shawn came home with the pork chops, I helped my mom make them. I made two of them extremely spicy since William wouldn’t eat anything without his Louisiana Hot Sauce. Once everything was made, we waited for him to show, but he never came. I waited until my mom had to force me to my room upstairs.

            Days went by and I still didn’t see or hear of him, until that Wednesday the news came on. I turned it up and called my mom into the room. A woman in a blue business suite was talking to a policeman.

            “And what happened to this John Doe,” the woman asked, tilting the microphone to the cop.

            “Sunday night, a man was run over by a semi,” the cop explained. “We didn’t know who he was at first--he was hit so hard he was unrecognizable--but we were able to get dental records.” He looked into the camera without any remorse. “He was a homeless man of about 70 years old. He was known as William “Lester” Smith.” He looked back at the reporter. “That’s all we know of him. No family has been contacted yet, but we are looking for possible siblings an--”

            That’s when I turned the TV off. I didn’t listen to the rest; I honestly didn’t care for the rest. No one else knew he was gone, and it seemed like no one else really cared. He was just another homeless man; another nobody. But he wasn’t a nobody to me. He was my brother. He was the man who would crack inappropriate jokes at the dinner table. He was the one who listened to me in my bitchy moods and he was the one who I looked forward to seeing when I didn’t want to see anyone else. And to think, that no one else cared. He was a one in a millionth but most people thought he was just part of the millions of other people.

            He had been through a lot and he knew a lot about the world, but he chose to see past that. He chose to be happy instead of bitter. He had chosen me to be his family and it meant the world to me that I was that blessed to know him. So the next time anyone of you sees a homeless man/woman on the street, think of him/her as being someone you care about, because he/she may be a person someone else misses… That’s just my thoughts for the day…

Author's Note

This is a true story... I was 16 when he passed away...

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for the story. I know of many people who got lost and never was found till death gave them a final break. I went to many people funeral I haven't seen in years. Not enough places for the homeless. Hard to find help when your world falls apart. A lot of people are walking on a tight rope. My kids have return home and my door is always open for them. The world is changing. We need more kind hearts and places for the homeless and needy. Your story is daily part of the news. The leaders of this USA need to quit fighting useless wars and help the people in need.
Coyote

[The Storyteller]

I enjoyed your story and it gave me a brief glimpse into what it is like to love someone who is homeless. Once I was finished reading I saw your note that this was true. Such sad story but it does it seems to be a reminder to cherish every moment we spend with each other. Thank You for sharing!

[WayOath]

Wow, this is true? All of it? That's terrible. I am so sorry for your loss. It is a very well composed story and the reader can tell you poured some personal experirence into these lines. Very sad but grips you. Makes you think about others more than just those close to you. I mean, we over look those kind of people and stuff. It's sad really. Very good write.

WayOath