Just Another Night…

He yawned and sat up. It was dark all around him except for the street lights illuminating parts of the park. He stretched and yawned again. How long had he slept this time, he wondered briefly to himself before gathering his meagre belongings together. He didn’t really care to know how long he had slept. One day melded into the next and all that mattered was that he find some food to fill his belly and  some  change to be able to get his fix for the day. Oops, night. The day was gone and now it was night. less boring, a little more exciting and dangerous. His heart raced a little at the thought. Who knows what the long night would bring. If he survived, it would be a positive thing. He tried to rotate his wrist. Ouch. A fleeting thought of regret entered his mind but he chased it away. No use thinking of the what-ifs. Time to move. He crossed the busy street and dodged a motor-taxi. Food. All around him street vendors sold various kinds of food but he had nothing in his pockets. Last night had not been a good night for obtaining cash. He felt his pockets. Absolutely empty. Either he had spent what he had earned the night before or someone had gone through his pockets  while he slept and had taken what little he had. He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter now. The hunger pangs in his stomach compelled him to walk on. What are the chances….and then he saw them. They walked towards him in their uniformed turquoise T-shirts. He grinned. She grinned back but then asked him his name. What? How could she not remember him, she had only spent all day at the hospital and more with him. He watched as she scrunched up her face in an attempt to remember. Her husband was behind her and he remembered right away. There were 2 others with them. He was just happy to see them. They had tried to help him but he didn’t like their help. However, he knew that they cared, that at the very least they had food with them to offer him. He asked for it. The husband opened the bag and took out a sandwich. Food. He reached for it and ate. Then asked for another as he finished it in 3 bites. She asked why he had left the rehab centre. He told her he couldn’t deal with waking up at 4am everyday and having to wash dishes for everyone when he didn’t toe the line. She told him she really wanted to smack him hard for the paltry excuse he gave for leaving the centre. He grinned. He knew she wouldn’t hit him. She cared too much. He asked for another sandwich, his third. She asked if he had a place to live. He said no, just the park. She shook her head. You had a place where they would take care of you, where you could get better. Why would you choose to live on the streets. She couldn’t understand the strong call of the carpenter’s glue that he inhaled. She couldn’t understand how much he had to have it. He stopped chewing, she was asking him something else. Oh, his hand. She wanted to know why he had taken off the cast. He told them that it kept getting wet and he couldn’t keep it dry. She asked how his hand was. He replied that it still hurt and he couldn’t move it well. The look on her face was funny. She was tiny and yet she looked as though she really wanted to hit him hard. She cares too much, he thought. Too bad they don’t give money handouts. Her husband was saying that to fix his hand again, the doctors would probably have to re-break it. She said something about wanting to help him but he needed to want to change. He munched on the sandwich. True that. He does want to change, he wants to live in a house and have a better life. But then, who wants to wake up at 4am everyday? Here, right now, he was king of his own life. He had freedom.