"Same thing."
"Not really."
I stare at him and he laughs.
"Okay, you got me. I won't ask anymore. It's your turn. You pick what we talk about."
I pause. "I never thought about the egg thing."
"What egg thing?"
"That thing you said earlier. Why it's called eggplant when it has no relation to eggs. It doesn't even look like an egg."
"I know, right? Doesn't make sense. Same with pineapple. No relation to apples and yet it's in the name. Or why do we park in a driveway and drive on a parkway?"
I laugh. "That's funny. I never thought about that. Why do so many words not make sense?"
"And yet we all use them as if they do. We just go along with it even though we know it's not right." He looks down and his expression turns serious.
"What's wrong?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing. Just something that happened at work today. Not at the office, but during lunch. It bothered me but I need to just let it go."
"What happened?"
He glances out at the street before looking back at me. "I had lunch with one of my co-workers, Lisa. She's older than me, probably late thirties. Anyway, we went to lunch to talk about a client and on the way there she kept making these comments. Actually, she made them during lunch, too, and on our way back to the office."
"Comments about what?"
"Homeless people," he says.
My chest tightens and I get a nervous quiver in my stomach. "What about them?"
5
Raine
"She just kept saying all this stuff," Miles says, "about how she can't stand looking at them, having them around. How the city should kick them out. I know she has a right to her opinion but I didn't agree with it, and the thing that's been bothering me the most is that I didn't speak up. I was afraid to challenge her or even offer my opinion because I didn't want to get in trouble. She's a lot higher up than me at the law firm and I'm sure if she wanted to, she could get me fired."
"Just for giving your opinion?"
"If you met this woman, you'd know what I'm talking about. If she doesn't like someone, she'll do anything to get rid of them. She fired her nanny today and I'm guessing that wasn't the first time that's happened."
"So you didn't say anything?" I ask. "When she said that stuff about the homeless?"
"Not really. I figured it wasn't worth it. It's not like she'll change her mind. Actually, I did challenge her a little on it and she told me I was naive. And too nice to be a lawyer. She said I have to be a shark, not a goldfish." He rolls his eyes. "She's so condescending. I don't like being around people like that."
"Do you have to work with her?"
"Not all the time, but on some stuff, yeah. The thing is, I get that she doesn't want these people around. I just don't like the way she talks about them, like they're not even people."
My anger rises but I remain calm. "So you agree they shouldn't be around? The homeless people?"
"I'm not saying they should be kicked out of the city. I'm just saying I understand they make people uncomfortable but—"
"Do they make YOU uncomfortable?" I ask, my anger beginning to show.
He shrugs. "Sometimes. Every time I walk down the street I get asked for money. I was trying to have dinner in the park last night and—"
"Did you ever think how THEY feel?" I lean across the table, glaring at him. "You say you're uncomfortable, but what about them? You think it's comfortable to sleep on cold hard pavement every night? You think it's comfortable to be starving all the time? You think it's comfortable to not be able to shower and have to wear the same clothes every day?"
"No." He rears back because I'm practically in his face. "Raine, that's not what I'm saying. Why are you getting so angry about this?"
I take a breath and sit back. "I just don't like how people only see one side. Or how they just assume all homeless people are lazy when they could be homeless because of something completely out of their control. Some people end up on the streets because they have shitty luck. It's not like they WANT to be there."
"Which is what I was trying to say. Hey, why don't we talk about something else?"
"Why? Because talking about this makes you uncomfortable?" I stand up. "It doesn't matter. I gotta go. I've already stayed too long."
He gets up. "Hold on. Before you go, can I at least get your number?"
"Don't have one,” I say, grabbing my coffee cup.
"Don't have what?"
"A number. A phone." I walk to the door.
Miles follows behind. "If you don't want to give me your number, that's fine. But can I give you mine? Just in case you ever want to meet again?"
I turn to him. "For the last time, I don't have a phone. I think they're a waste of money and I don't need one. As for meeting again? I don't think it's a good idea." I open the door. "Thanks for the coffee."
He waits at the door and watches me walk away, which means I have to walk in the opposite direction of where I live. Gladys is going to wonder where I am. I'm usually there by now, back in the small beat-up tent we call home. I take it down every morning in case the cops decide to show up and tell us we can't be there, which happened a few months ago. Ever since then, I wait until night to put it up, still worried we'll get told we have to leave, but so far, the cops haven't been back.
By now, Gladys is probably worried sick. I should've run out and told her where I was, making up some excuse to Miles about why I had to leave. But knowing him, he'd question whatever fake story I came up with.
I thought I liked him, but now? I realize he's just like everyone else. Thinking he knows everything about the homeless when he doesn't have a clue. Okay, so maybe he didn't come out and state his assumptions but I know he has them. Everyone does, or at least the people who've never experienced the hell of not having a place to live. It sucks and it's not a decision but a reality forced on me, and others, because of whatever got us to this point. For me it was a series of wrong decisions made worse by trusting the wrong people, or one in particular.
"Gladys." I see her sitting in her lawn chair and race up to her.
"Raine!" She slowly gets up. She has arthritis and doesn't move too fast. "I was so worried, dear." She cups my face. "Where have you been?"
"In the coffee shop. Sorry, I should've come out and told you." I hold up my cup. "You want the rest of this? It's a pumpkin latte."
She looks at it. "Latte? Those are expensive. Did Shelly give that to you?"
"No. Someone um...bought it for me." I sit down on the milk crate, feeling embarrassed to tell her this, although I don't know why.
"Who?" she asks, sitting back down on her lawn chair.
"It was a guy. I met him last night. Well, I didn't actually meet him. I saw him and said hi. He was in the coffee shop when I went in to use the bathroom."