It took a long time to switch my pants. My lower back must have taken quite a hit. My muscles were protesting loudly. I more or less scooted out of the pants since I was unable to fully bend my legs. Houser had brought a pair of cotton exercise shorts and some old stained cargo pants. I replaced my boxers with the exercise shorts, almost screaming to get them over my feet. The cargo pants were even more difficult. I looked around and noticed for the first time that my shoes were missing. They were probably the same place my socks were.
“Houser, where are my shoes?” I asked as I rolled over onto my hands and knees. I wasn’t sure I could stand up without passing out. I certainly couldn’t stand up in the hovel.
“I put them on the vents,” Houser answered, “they be dry soon.” I crawled to the exit and poked my head out into the gray day. I was housed under the bridge, right where the supports met the land. My shaking had stopped. It wasn’t terribly cold now that I had dry clothes. Houser looked down at me. “There’s socks in there too,” he said, pointing into the hut. I crawled back and painfully donned a pair of dry black socks.
“What’s your name, jumper?” Houser asked with a bit of sarcasm. I decided it was best he didn’t know. I didn’t plan on staying and didn’t really trust him.
“Frank,” I answered. It was the first name to come to me. I subconsciously felt for my phone and remembered it was at the bottom of the river, along with my wallet. I really wasn’t planning to need them anymore.
“Why’d you do it?” Houser asked. I looked up at him and saw the glint in his eye. I could see he wasn’t really concerned about me. He was more interested in the story. I guess I was what passed for entertainment under a bridge. “You bankrupt? Kill someone?” he continued. He gave me the best lie, the one that said I was not worth anything.
“Bankrupt,” I lied. Houser laughed his crazy laugh.
“I’m always bankrupt,” Houser said, “don’t need no money, so I don’t care if I don’t have any. It’s you idiots that put worry in it.” I chuckled at that. He was right in his own way.
“You’re a wise man, Houser,” I praised, His face lit up like a Christmas tree. I have no idea why I found that pleasing. He’s an old man who lives under a bridge. Why would I care if he was happy? Nevertheless, his dental disaster of a smile made me feel good. I tried to stand and decided against it when my back fought against it with pain.
“Lie flat,” Houser instructed, “you might be stuck here a day or two. I will take care of you and then you owe me…that’s how it works.” I slowly rolled over onto my back and slowly straightened my legs. I smiled at him.
“What will I owe you?” I asked. I was thinking in terms of dollars.
“I don’t know yet!” Houser snapped, “you share what you get or do me solid. Nothing more than what you get. I’ll ask when I see it. Can’t live without helping each other out here.” He was talking at me like I was an idiot. It was a simple barter system, favor for favor.
“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 then, 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 nothing? You’re lucky I found you.” He was shaking his head as he headed off beyond the bridge supports. He acted as if 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 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 Jell-O,” Houser said as he handed me some chicken balled up in a napkin and a paper cup filled with red Jell-O. 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 sledgehammer. 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. After the last bite, I was wishing there was more. I emptied the cup full of red Jell-O 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.
Chapter 3
It was four days until I could stand and walk properly. Houser said I had one hell of a 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 anymore 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 no longer cared 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 a 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 tinge of pain. I had ignored