BY
EVERETT EDE
The sun was high in the morning sky when John awoke. Actually, it was the sun shining in his face that caused his waking. He pulls his right arm from under his head and using a dirty index finger from the same hand, cleans the sleep from his eyes. He then pulls himself into a sitting position and then leans back against the bridge abutment that had been his head board the previous night. The acrid smell of human urine finishes the job of waking that the sun had started just a moment ago.
"Fuckin' god damn bums!" He mumbles. "Why can't they walk outside to do that?" He, staggers to his feet and then leans on the cement abutment for a moment before walking slowly down the bank. He moves toward the sidewalk and then turns West on Oak Street. He has only taken a few steps when he notices a woman walking toward him on the building side of the sidewalk. He moves over so that he is now on a collision course with her. She moves to the street side but John also alters his course.
"Excuse me." She says as she tries to walk around him.
"Mam could you spare a quarter?" He asks, still blocking her path.
"No! Get away from me." She says in a strong voice that indicates she will take none of his guff.
"Well fuck you miss hoity toity." He reacts to her.
She turns and looks straight at him with a scornful look but says nothing. He turns and skulks away like a chastised dog.
He walks two more blocks to an area that is known as restaurant row. Turning left down an alley that separates two of the better places he sees garbage cans lined up in a neat, orderly row. Their galvanized lids, neat concentric circles and prim little handles, seem to say to him, open me first. John lifts the lid of the first one that he comes to and begins his daily routine of rummaging for food.
This has been the way his days have started for over five years. Before that he had been a successful Real Estate Broker with a wife and three great kids. Then his drinking got out of hand and his late hours turned to play instead of work. His wife left him about seven years ago and it was then that he let his depression take him to the street. His reputation on the street has been that of a belligerent, sometimes violent, drunk. John had never been arrested before he hit the streets and has been in jail five times since. In short he has become a pretty wasted individual. If you can use the term individual on someone who has no self worth.
"Hey! Get out of there you fuckin' bum." A busboy yells as he comes out of the kitchen with another load for the cans.
"Fuck you. You're just throwing this stuff out and I need something to eat." John yells back, as he continues his quest for breakfast.
"I'm going to call the cops." The young man counters.
"Why?"
"Because you're not supposed to be here. Why don't you just get a job?" The boy stops before he gets too close to the disgusting man.
"You going to give me a job?" John taunts as he opens a piece of waxed paper exposing a piece of pastry that is stuck to it.
"I just work here," The boy excuses, "but my boss might."
"Right." He swallows the pastry piece together with a piece of the paper, and then pulls a tin can from the garbage and examines it for something edible.
"I'll go ask him, but you get out of the garbage." The boy speaks as he disappears through the door to the kitchen.
"Is he serious?" John speaks as though to some person. He looks toward the fleeing boy and thinks how his oldest son might look just like him by now. Closing the lid on the unproductive can he moves to the next one and repeats the procedure. This time finding some ham on a bone and some uncooked artichoke leaves. If he could just find a restaurant that didn't have a garbage disposal, he thinks to himself, he could find some good food.
"Hey." The boy is back.
"Leave me alone. I'm not bothering anyone." John defends his bone as a dog would by pulling it around to protect it from his attacker while keeping his eyes on him.
"Come on my boss is going to fire me if I don't keep you away from here."
"Did he give me a job?" John taunts.
"No."
"Maybe he'll give me yours after he fires you."
"Come on man. Here is a sandwich that I made for you. Now take it and go somewhere else." The boy holds out a tentative hand with a neatly wrapped package in it.
Without hesitation John grabs it and then looks at the startled lad with immense curiosity.
"You know if you look for positive energy you will find it." The boy says suddenly.
"What?" John looks at him with a look that is as puzzled as his mind.
"I said that if you look for positive energy in your life you will find it. That means that if you expect life to give you a break then it will."
John continues to stare at the boy and then looks down at the fresh sandwich. "Your boss'd fire you if he knew you did this for me."
"I know." The boy answers as he turns to re-enter the kitchen. "Positive energy." He says as he disappears through the screen door.
"Positive energy." John repeats as looks again at the fresh sandwich. He opens the wrapping and lifts the bread to find fresh roast beef, lettuce, mustard and a tomato. When John was a broker he used to give a seminar to his sales people about the belief in self. The name and the subject matter of that seminar was; "Positive Energy.", and he raised his kids on that same belief. "Positive energy." He says again as he takes a bite and then moves off toward the street.
Every day for the past few years John has moved along this street and never looked at the people who passed him. But, today he has his eyes up. Eating his sandwich and smiling at the people who pass him. Most just avert their eyes, but some smile back. This is great, he says to himself, these people know that I'm here. After he passes a few more who smile at him, he musters enough courage to speak.
"Hi." He says shyly to a man in a suit.
"Hello." The man says.
"God this is great." Taking another bite out of his sandwich he picks up his step a little.
"Hi there." He says to a young man.
"Hi." The man says back to him.
John looks in a window as he walks by and is aware of a smile on his face. A smile that had not been there for a very long time. He stops and looks again. He feels good.
The window is on the front of a restaurant. He looks inside and then without hesitation walks through the front door.
"Can I help you?" A young woman asks as he enters.
"Yes. I know that you probably don't really want me in here, but I would like to wash some dishes or the floor or something for some breakfast. Do you have any work for me?"
"Well, I do need a replacement dishwasher, but you're going to have to clean yourself up first."
"That's great! Can I use the bathroom to do it?" He can't believe his own enthusiasm.
"Go ahead, I will see what you look like when you come out."
"Thanks." He says as he jaunts toward the door marked "Men."
Taking off his old jacket and throwing it in the waste can he then removes his shirt. Turning on the hot water and then jiggling the handle on the soap container, he releases its powder. He washes his hands up to his elbows, then he washes his face and beard and dries himself using paper towels. He then puts his shirt back on and straightens it out and brushes his pants as smooth as he can. Looking at himself in the mirror he thinks that he looks pretty good. As he turns to leave he remembers his teeth. Looking around the small room he finds nothing that will work well enough to clean them. So the soap will have to do. Using his finger like a tooth brush he scrubs his dirty teeth. He then rinses his mouth and spits the bitter soap into the sink.
"Is this good enough?" He asks the lady at the cash register when he finishes.
"Well...not ordinarily, but I need dishes washed and you seem anxious to work. Come with me."
After working for four hours rinsing and washing every dish in the place at least twice. John sits down on a plastic soap bucket and leans back against the stainless steel counter where he had been working. He was feeling good.
"What's your name?"
He looks up to see the lady looking down at him from the doorway. "John." He answers.
"John What?"
"John Smith. I know, you don't believe me, but that really is my name.
"Do you really want to work?" She, quizzes.
"Yes," he says with a definiteness that hasn't been in him for awhile. "It's time to get off the street."
"Good answer. Come out here and have some food and then finish the day for me. I will pay you in cash so you can get some decent clothes. Then, if you show up tomorrow, I will hire you. The job pays $4.25 per hour. You will have to bus the tables but the waitress will share 5% of her tips with you for that. OK?"
"OK!"
The rest of the day goes by quickly and then he has $34.00 in his pocket.
Standing on the street in front of the restaurant he looks first one way and then the other. What to do now. The mission, that's it. I can get cleaned up at the mission, he says to himself. Walking briskly down the street he turns toward the old stucco building where the street people line up for a meal and a bed If they can get one. Walking through the door he goes directly up to the window.
"Hi." He says confidently to the man behind the counter.
"How did you get in here?" He says.
"The door was unlocked." John answers.
"Well You'll have to wait outside until opening like the others. There will be plenty of food."
"Look I got a job and I need to find some clean clothes and get a shower." The man looks up at him but doesn't say a word. "I have some money." John continues.
"Where is your job?"
"Washing dishes at the Harvest House."
After a long pause the man picks up the phone and dials a number. "Hi, this is Doug at the mission. Did you hire a dishwasher today?" He waits while the unheard conversation continues. "No there's no trouble. He is in here looking for some help and if you hired him I'm going to help him." Another pause. "What's your name." He directs the question at John.
"John Smith, really."
"Yeah that's what he says." He responds to the telephone. "OK, thanks." He hangs up and then says, "alright John Smith, If you want off the street I'm going to help you."
"Thanks."
"Hank." The man hollers into the empty hall.
"What?" A voice comes from the corner.
"Take this guy down to the goodwill and help him get some clothes and then bring him back in here."
"OK. Come on guy." The two men walk out the back door of the mission.
The next morning freshly scrubbed, clean shaven and dressed in a new used shirt and pants and wearing a clean pair of shoes. John Smith walks into the Harvest House Restaurant.
"One sir?" The waitress asks.
"No. I'm the new dishwasher." He responds.
"Oh, do you know where to go?"
"Yes." He says as he walks toward the kitchen.
As he moves toward his work station the lady from the day before looks at him and says, "John?"
"Yes mam."
"Lookin' good John. Do you remember what to do?"
"Yes mam." He says confidently and she smiles as he continues into the kitchen.
At the end of the day he is more tired than he was the day before but he is feeling good as he starts to leave.
"You did a good job today John. I am going to need your social security number. Do you have one?"
"Yes but I don't have the card anymore."
"That's alright just give me the number and I will order a lost card for you."
He gives her the number and then asks. "What are you doing with those things?" He points at what looks like register tapes.
"Oh those are lottery ticket numbers that I made a mistake on and I have to buy them."
"I'll buy some. How much are they?"
"Well let's see, this one is only a dollar."
"OK." He feels like he is helping her.
He hands her one of his remaining dollars and puts the lottery slip in his pocket. "How much am I going to win." He asks.
"If you win that one you will win three million dollars."
"Wow." He says as he walks out the door.
1,7,14,23,33 and 42 are the numbers on the top line of the ticket and 3,5,7,15,28 and 38 the numbers on the second line. He squeezes it in his hand. "Positive Energy, positive Energy." He repeats as he remembers the boy from yesterday.
The next two days are full of clear thinking and excitement for John. The last time he felt this way was many years ago when he was still married and he had his kids to love. He can hardly believe that he is feeling like coming back out of the gutter. He is feeling so positive about everything.
"Got a quarter buddy?" A voice from a rumpled form on the sidewalk.
"Yeah." He says as he hands the man a quarter. "You know if you look for positive energy it will find you." He misquotes the boy’s words.
"Fuck you asshole." The man on the sidewalk responds.
John walks on thinking about how receptive he had been to those words, and how this person would not even smile back at him for saying it.
As he walks into the restaurant the lady asks. "How many numbers did you get John?"
"What?" He says.
"Lottery numbers. How many did you get?"
"How do I find out?" He asks.
"It's in the paper here. The article says somebody won it."
"What are they?" He says as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the slip. "Positive energy." He says as he does so.
"What?" She says.
"Positive energy, if you believe that something good will happen then it will, Positive energy."
"Well John you old metaphysical person you."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Do you have your ticket out?"
"Yeah, I'm ready."
"1,7,14,23,33 and 42." She, reads.
He looks at the numbers on his ticket and repeats the numbers.
"1,7,14,23,33,42."
"That's right, how many did you get?"
"Positive energy." He says.
"What?"
"1,7,14,23,33, and 42. How much do I win?"
"Let me see that." She says in disbelief.
"1,7,14,23,33,42. Son of a Bitch!"
"How much do I win?" John asks again, as he takes his ticket back.
"Three million dollars."
"That's good." He says as he puts the ticket back in his pocket, and walks toward the kitchen.
"What are you going to do John?" The lady asks.
"Well, first I'm going to wash dishes, and then I'm going to go get my money. And then....then I'm going to go find my kids.
"Your kids?"
"Yeah. My kids they need to hear about positive energy. I love my kids. I'm going to go find my kids." Then he turns and walks into the kitchen, picks up his apron, and mumbles to himself.
"Positive Energy."
