The Promise

"Sounds more than fair, "I responded lightly, "you just let me know. I will owe you good when I get out of here." Houser smiled again, and nodded his head. He really enjoyed the idea of being owed. I would have to find a way of paying him back. I was impressed how simple his life was. Right now, I envied him.

"It's almost four," Houser said absently, "kitchen will open soon. Sadie said I could bring you back something 'til you feel better. She won't do it for long so you got to get better."

"Sadie?" I asked.

"She runs the kitchen," Houser said incredulously, "don't you know anything? You're lucky I found you." He was shaking his head as he headed off beyond the bridge supports. He acted like the whole world knew about the kitchen.

I lay on the cardboard mattress feeling physically better than when I woke. I closed my eyes and saw my flawed vision of Amber. "I miss you baby," I whispered. The vision didn't improve. I had already lost perfection and I knew it would only fade more over time. My grief returned and I wished Houser hadn't left. I needed his simplicity, as strange as it was.

Houser returned as the sun began to set. I wasn't sure how much time had passed because my watch was on the bottom of the river. It was kind of nice not caring what time it was. I have spent my whole life watching a clock. All that happened was time ran out for Amber and me. Now time could just suck itself.

"I got you some fried chicken and a cup of jello," Houser said as he handed me a chicken balled up in a napkin and a paper cup filled with red jello. Strangely, it seemed like a feast. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I smelled the cold chicken. There was a leg and half a breast that had been cut with a knife.

"Got to eat out here," Houser pointed to the cement. "Don't want critters inside." More homeless wisdom. I crawled out and sat up slowly. I was starting to figure out how to move with the least amount of pain. The lower left side of my back felt like it had been hit with a sledge hammer. If I kept myself tucked a little to the left, I could withstand more movement.

"Thanks, Houser," I said sincerely, "I owe you." Houser smiled and nodded. I was getting the hang of this favor thing. Just acknowledge the debt and pay it back in kind in the future. If only the rest of life were that simple. I dug into the chicken and it disappeared quickly. It was actually pretty good as fried chicken goes. Even cold, the seasonings partied with my tongue in a snappy way. I was kind of wishing there was more. I emptied the cup full of red jello cubes into my mouth and enjoyed the brief sweetness. I stuffed the napkin into the cup and looked around for a waste can or something. Houser laughed and grabbed the cup out of my hand, walked down to the river and threw it in. Pollution was obviously not part of his ethos.

It was four days until I could stand and walk properly. Houser said I had one hell of bruise on my back. I guess I was lucky, or unlucky depending upon your point of view. I was certainly happy I didn't have to crawl down to the river to relieve myself anymore.

Houser and I became good friends. I liked him better than anyone else I knew. I liked his philosophy. There was no way I was going back to my old life, not without Amber in it. Jumping off a bridge didn't appeal to me any more either. I was losing weight, something I always wanted to do. I couldn't care less what time it was and there was absolutely no stress. My home, job, car and old friends would do nothing, but remind me of what I had lost. A week ago, I would have never guessed I could live without all my stuff. Now, I couldn't care less how full my DVR was or whether I had checked my email. I was dropping out and going off the grid.

Houser was a brilliant teacher. He had been on the streets for over twenty years. He dropped out when he lost his factory job. He couldn't find another even close to what he had been earning, so he hit the streets. For him, it worked. He really didn't care how the world turned and had no desire for the finer things in life. I wasn't sure how long I could hack it, but, after four days under a bridge, I was feeling pretty free. I didn't have any obligations to clutter my time. Grief would visit, but never stay long. There was nothing under the bridge to remind me of Amber except my own thoughts.

"I guess you could make it to the kitchen today," Houser said, "it's almost four so we better get started if we want more than scraps." I looked at him strangely. His time-telling skills were gnawing at me. He wore no watch, but he always had a good sense of the time. Even when it was cloudy.

"How do you always know what time it is?" I asked with a smile. Houser was always proud of his secret knowledge of the streets. It's one of the reasons why he liked me. I always made a point of drawing it into the open so he could show off.

"Traffic," Houser answered, pointing to the bridge, "I can hear rush hour starting." He was beaming and I gave him a small bow in praise, which caused a little pain. I had ignored the traffic, but he was right. You could almost count the tires crossing the breaks in the pavement. In his own way, Houser was a genius.

I followed Houser into the streets for the first time in four days. I am sure I looked a mess. I hadn't shaved or even combed my hair in all that time. I received a few disgusted looks from suited professionals, but most people just ignored us. I felt invisible and found it exhilarating. I am sure my smell wasn't invisible, but Houser didn't seem to be offended.

The kitchen was in a rundown district. It looked like it had been some kind of factory at one time. It was a three story brown bricked building with large windows, mostly boarded. There was a large sign above a double set of doors that said 'City Kitchen.' One of the doors was propped open, but a line had already begun to form just before the two steps that led to the doors. There was no indication why we couldn't just go inside.

"Can't go in until 'Sugar Magnolia,'" Houser said as we got in line behind an old woman. "Maggie, this here is Frank." Maggie turned, her face was wrinkled like elephant skin. She smiled, nodded and turned to face the line again. I said 'Hi,' but I don't think she heard it. She was humming to herself and it wasn't offensive, almost like she could carry a tune.

"'Sugar Magnolia?'" I asked.

"You'll see," Houser smiled. I waited with everyone else as the line got longer. I let Houser have his fun. I learned in four days not to get anxious about anything. Patience was a way of life on the streets. It was the cost of the freedom.

Houser seemed to know most of the people in line. A week ago, I would have never thought of them as people at all. It's strange how jumping off a bridge could change your perspective. Not all of the people looked like they hadn't showered for a week or more, and I was surprised at the number of kids in line. There was one mother trying to reign in three young boys who seemed very comfortable with the whole process.

The civility in the line was the most surprising aspect. No one seemed to mind the wait and there wasn't any attempt cut in or form a new line. I was expecting more of a herd mentality instead of the practiced order being displayed. It went against everything Houser stood for.

"It's so...orderly," I said. I almost gave it a questioning tone.

"Sadie don't put up with no shit," Houser replied. Maggie stopped humming and turned around.

"You cause trouble, you don't eat," Maggie said accusingly. She raised her finger and pointed at me with a scowl. I smiled at her, trying to prove I was a good person and deserved to eat. She turned back around and continued her humming. Sadie must be a beast of a woman to invoke such discipline in everyone. I imagined her at three hundred pounds swinging a rolling pin with deadly force. I didn't intend to cause any trouble, so I wasn't too worried.

I heard an electric pop followed by a hiss of speakers firing up. "Four o'clock, here we go," Houser said patting me on the back. The line started moving forward just before the music started. The song 'Sugar Magnolia' wafted through the open door. I realized that was the tune Maggie had been humming the whole time. Everyone moved forward calmly; there was no pushing or arguing. I have seen ruder people entering high-priced theatrical productions. Maybe Sadie packed an Uzi.

The line moved forward slowly, but steadily. I patiently waited my turn to head into the door. I smelled chili as I neared the door and my stomach growled. I was hungrier than I thought. I know I hadn't eaten well in the last four days, but it really didn't bother me until that wonderful smell hit my nostrils. Inside the door, the line continued down a short hall and took a turn to the right. The music was more pronounced inside and Maggie was bouncing to the beat. Maybe she was a deadhead from way back.

I turned the corner just as the song ended. The din of plastic trays and plates replaced the music. There was a stainless steel cafeteria line ahead, manned by people who looked like they would fit comfortably in the line. The first station was being handled by a large woman wearing a white apron over mismatched pants and shirt. Her hair, black with streaks of gray, was pulled back and covered in a white scarf. She was filling bowls with chili and handing them over the sneeze guard with a smile that was missing a few teeth. I assumed she was Sadie. She was definitely imposing enough.

"I haven't seen you before," a female voice to my right said as I entered the dining room. The room held a good twenty long tables with metal tubed plastic folding chairs. My eyes followed the voice to a woman dressed in a flowing red flowery skirt. Her dusty brown hair was long down her back, held in place by the same white scarf the chili lady was wearing.

"No, I guess I'm new," I replied, a little lost for words. I wasn't expecting to be greeted. The woman's eyes crinkled when she smiled. She was petite, at least a hand shorter than I. Her cream-colored blouse was practical, but sharply ironed. She stood with both hands clasped behind her back. She looked completely out of place, for one thing, she had all her teeth.

"Sadie, this is Frank," Houser chimed in from behind me, "he's the one I told you about." Sadie didn't look anything like I expected. She was maybe in her mid thirties and not physically imposing at all.

"Welcome, Frank," Sadie said, and used her hand to direct me toward the cafeteria line. A small gap in the line was created when she greeted me and I think she was intent on seeing it closed. Something about her manner made me hustle to fill the gap. "You owe me five days, Houser," Sadie called as we moved toward the chili.

"Five days?" I asked Houser for clarification.

"Yeah, I gots to work the line," Houser said, nodding to the buffet line, "if you eat a lot, you owes days to Sadie." He smiled as he picked up a tray off the stack. "It ain't bad work, it's just she makes you clean up, you know, before you touch the food and stuff." Houser obviously cherished his grime. He wasn't quite as free as he claimed.

"Cheese?" the large chili lady asked.

"Sure," I answered and she dropped a tong full of shredded cheddar on top of my plastic bowl of chili. She made an effort to smile as she handed me the bowl. I found myself smiling back and saying 'thank you.' I moved to the next station, and a tall gangly guy with the same apron and scarf handed me a small bowl of fresh broccoli and carrots in some kind of oily sauce. He also smiled and warranted a 'thank you.' The whole process was extremely civil and the service was pleasant. I looked back at Sadie as she greeted everyone entering. You have to admire someone who can organize the unorganized.

"Brownies!" Houser said excitedly. I saw his eyes light up and he exposed all his bad teeth. An older woman was serving them at the end of the line. Same apron, same scarf and the same smile. With our trays loaded, Houser and I found a seat at one of the tables.

"Does Sadie run this all by herself?" I asked as we began to dig in.

"Yep, it's her kitchen," Houser answered with a mouth full of chili. I saw him eying my brownie. He wasn't trying to be overly obvious, but he wasn't hiding it either. I smiled and moved my brownie to his tray.

"I owe you," I said. Houser nodded his head as he stuffed another spoonful of chili into his mouth. I had a feeling I wouldn't be getting dessert for a while. It didn't really bother me, anyone who could help me forget was worth his weight in dessert.

We ate in the relatively quiet atmosphere of the cafeteria. There was talking, but it was all subdued and very cordial. Not what I expected at all. Houser informed me Sadie wouldn't allow raucous behavior in her cafeteria. I looked back at Sadie and wondered how she could possibly stop a ruckus if it started. Everyone just seemed to accept her iron rule here.

I was watching Houser enjoy his brownies at the end of the meal. Enjoying was an understatement. He was in ecstasy. He savored every bite, and his eyes glossed over. His joys were simple and this was one of his favorites.

"So, what are you doing here, Frank?" Sadie had sat down next to us without me noticing. I jumped a bit in surprise. I figured I would stick with the lie I started with.

"Financial problems," I answered. I wondered if I smelled as bad as Houser. If so, Sadie didn't seem to mind. She just looked at my face as if trying to figure out something. Her dark eyes seemed to penetrate past my lie and I sensed she didn't believe me.

"You're not buying Houser's freedom of the streets crap are you?" Sadie smiled sweetly at Houser as she said it. Houser was still lost in his second brownie and seemed oblivious to the teasing insult. For some reason I didn't feel like lying to her again. There was something about how she presented herself that just made it feel wrong.

"Right now, yes," I answered honestly, "it's kind of refreshing." Houser was nodding as he relished another mouthful of the brownie. He was more aware of the conversation than I gave him credit for. Sadie rolled her eyes and gave me an expression just short of disgust. I suddenly wanted to take my answer back and try again.

"You owe Houser?" Sadie asked, nodding toward the brownie monster.

"Yes," I answered quizzically.

"Then you take his five days," Sadie said as she rose, "I'll see if I can change your mind. Be here tomorrow morning at nine; don't be late." Sadie headed off before I could respond. I was shocked by the authority she just assumed she had. Houser smiled with a mouth full of brownie.

"We're even," Houser said, obviously pleased with the turn of events. I looked after Sadie, her skirt swinging from side to side as she headed toward the serving line. She walked with authority that no one seemed to question. She inspected the line, and was pointing out things while workers hustled to make everything right. Not what I expected at all.

It was a chilling morning, doubly so since I had to leave the hovel before the sun was above the buildings. I made it to the Kitchen well before nine or at least Houser said I would be early. I was stamping my feet on the steps, and hugging myself when I heard the door begin to open.

"You're going to have to collect better clothes if you want to make this your lifestyle," Sadie said, while waving me in. "You're early," she commented.

"Don't have a watch," I responded as I stepped into the warmth. It was the first time I had needed a watch since I threw it in the river. She locked the door behind me and started walking to the dining area expecting me to follow. I followed like a dog.

"The door to the right," Sadie instructed while pointing to the far wall, "leads to a shower room. There's a wash basin to wash your clothes and a dryer. Clean up, and we'll get started in about an hour." She turned, and headed back toward what I expected was the real kitchen area. She left no room for dissent.

"What if I say no?" I asked. Might as well find out how this all works. I wasn't used to feeling like someone's slave. Sadie turned around and looked at me with a calm glare.

"If you're not clean, you can't touch the food," Sadie stated firmly, "if you can't help, we won't like each other." Her hands found her hips and she stared at me. I almost came back with a smart-ass remark, but couldn't find the courage. She was very imposing for such a petite woman.

"Clean it is," I said cheerfully. I really didn't want Sadie's ire. I had a strange feeling it would be a costly thing to behold. Sadie just turned and continued on her previous path.

The shower room was large. I guessed the building must have needed it in its prior life. It was set up like one you might find in an old dormitory. A row of sinks, a hall of toilets and a large, open shower room with five shower heads. In the sink portion, there was a utility basin with an old dryer next to it. I followed Sadie's instructions.

I stripped down and threw my clothes in the basin. There was detergent above the faucet which I used to scrub the clothes. The water turned a nasty shade of tan as I washed. I guess five days in the same clothes does that. I rinsed the clothes as best I could and went to toss them in the dryer. The dryer held a towel that I guess was meant for me. I exchanged the towel for my clean, but wet, clothes and put the dryer on a one hour cycle.

Above one of the regular sinks was a set of hotel toiletries sitting on the metal tray below the mirror. The tray held a cheap plastic-wrapped toothbrush and comb, along with a small bar of soap, a tiny toothpaste tube and a mini shampoo. I didn't recognized myself in the mirror. My reddish-brown hair, which hadn't been combed in five days, was matted, and it stuck out in strange directions. I was sporting the beginnings of a sparse beard, and I was shocked to see some of it coming in gray. I had never had gray hair before. My face was basically filthy with streaks of oily dirt where I had wiped it with my dirty hands. I had aged ten years in five days. Amber would have been pissed.

I grabbed the soap and shampoo and headed to the shower. I scrubbed myself thoroughly and then repeated the process a couple more times. I closed my eyes with my head under the warm rain and tried to see Amber again. She was there, missing the perfection I could once see. I hated losing that perfection, but it wasn't ripping me apart as before. I knew I wouldn't be jumping off any more bridges. I also knew I wouldn't be returning to my old life. The mirror convinced me Houser didn't have the answers either. I owed him five days, so that's how long I had to figure out things. At least Sadie had my day planned for me. I really didn't want to think any more.

I dried off, combed my hair and brushed my teeth. I felt slightly more normal. I lost a little portion of the freedom Houser had tried to instill. It was replaced with a desire to do something. I just wish I knew what that something was. I looked at my scraggly baby beard and wished I had a razor. I didn't like the gray hairs -- Amber would have hated them. I remembered trying not to shave on Sundays. It was just a lazy thing, to make Sunday a do-nothing day. Amber nixed it almost immediately. I remember her sitting me in a chair, then straddling me and shaving me herself. We made love like teenagers that day, me promising never to not shave and her promising to shave me personally if I reneged. The memory brought a mixture of tremendous love and horrible sadness. A potent mix that always caused tears. I wished I had a razor.

I spent another twenty minutes with my memories while I waited for the clothes to dry. I washed out my towel and exchanged it with my clothes in the dryer. I set the dial for thirty minutes on the dryer and fired it up. I walked out a clean man.