Homeless (5 page)

Lonnie was drained. Shaking his head, then shrugging his shoulders, he had no more desire for confrontations or bullshit as he reached down retrieving his book bag off the floor. “Listen, can you just tell me where they put all our stuff at?”

After telling the young man he'd watch grow up from a small boy what he wanted to know, they both got on the elevator together. The ride down was silent. Neither said a word as the man handed Lonnie some cash he had in his pocket. It was just short of a $184, but to Lonnie, it was everything considering he was flat broke. As they stepped off on the main floor and walked down the hall, the pair was met by the caretaker's always-up-to-no-good girlfriend. Acting as if she was the sun, the moon, and the stars, she started in on the old man.

“Where in the hell you been? I called your damn phone twice. Why you ain't pick up?”

“Don't start with me. I was busy,” he barked back, obviously tired of her attitude and mouth.

She devilishly smiled, then snickered at Lonnie as if he was nothing. “Doing what? I know not busy wasting time with
him
. He don't even live here anymore, or did you forget already?”

Lonnie tried his best to ignore the woman he'd had the run-in with a few weeks back and her snide remarks about his misfortune and current situation.

“Go on somewhere now. I done told you a million times to stay outta folk business,” the elderly man waved his hand, dismissing her as he and Lonnie kept walking toward the front door. “I'm tired of your mouth and all that constant meddling.”

“You funny to me, old man; real funny. If it wasn't for my meddling, no one would make any money around here, and this building would go straight to hell. At least, that's what the owner said when I called him.” Her statement stopped Lonnie and the caretaker dead in their tracks. Once she saw she had both their attention, she went all the way in. “Yeah, he said he was going to think about putting me on the payroll since I seem to knowing the comings and goings of this building!” Adding insult to injury, she reached her hand into her cheap handbag. As she pulled it out, she revealed a Honey Bun.

Before the malicious lady had a chance to open the sweet treat, let alone say another word, she was met with Lonnie's fist coming crashing down across the side of her face. The last thing the broken-spirited teenager heard before leaving from his childhood home was the sound of the ruthless biddy crying out for help and the caretaker demanding she get her bullshit and leave before he knocked the shit out of her as well.

Walking around to the rear of the apartment building, Lonnie went into the alley. Lifting the lids one by one of the eight huge metal garbage containers that smelled like dead fish and sewer, he finally found the one the caretaker suggested he should look at. With the top all the way back, Lonnie saw a few garbage bags that contained items he easily recognized as his and his mother's. Luckily, there were several other trash cans that the residents could use and the bags were not yet covered with others' castaways. Snatching out a few of the overstuffed bags, Lonnie tossed them on the side of the Dumpster. Satisfied with the few items the men hadn't probably taken home to their wives or girlfriends, he placed them into one of his old duffle bags that were also discarded in the assortment of debris.

After finding a piece of broken glass in the alley, Lonnie pulled his mother's beloved blanket out and started to cry. Wanting to wrap up in it one last time, he was stopped by the fact one of the residents had dumped what seemed like some old cooking grease on one portion of it. Using the sharpest edge of the glass, Lonnie cut a nice-size area of the wool cloth and stuffed it in the duffle bag already containing the other garbage-can-retrieved items. Ripping a small corner off of that, he then placed that material memory inside his book bag.

Lonnie left the alley feeling nothing but hopelessness. With nowhere in particular to go and no plans, the young man who was forced to grow all the way up overnight started to walk and walk and walk. With a little less than $200 to his name and a small bag containing everything he now owned in the world, his destination was unknown. Lonnie's initial thought was to run down to the funeral home and give them at least something on the amount they wanted; yet, he knew trying to survive in the streets was going to be hard.

* * *

After hours of wandering the city in an emotionally charged daze, Lonnie went into Coney Island. He needed to rest not only his body, but his mind as well. Having not bothered to eat since this morning, he was maintaining on fumes. Ordering a cheeseburger deluxe and a Pepsi, he sat down in the booth furthest from the door. Knowing he had absolutely nowhere to go for the night, he took his time eating. Running out of options of what to do next, Lonnie wanted to call his deadbeat sperm donor back and give him a rundown of what happened. He knew the man never really cared about him or was in his life at any time that was deemed important, yet the son prayed that maybe, just maybe, this one time he would show him some mercy or compassion. After a few rings, he finally answered.

“Yeah, Lonnie, what's going on? What's the deal?” he seemed agitated right off the rip.

“Yeah, hey. I know I just spoke to you right after Mom died and . . .”

“Yeah, how did that thing work out for you? Did you get your momma buried?” he unsympathetically asked his teenage son, like he was speaking about a dead bird that had fallen out of a tree, not the mother of his child.

Taking a deep breath, it took everything Lonnie had not to curse his father smooth out for being so black hearted. Instead, he closed his fist as tightly as he possible could and asked God to please give him strength. After a few brief seconds of being silent and opening his book bag to touch the small remnant of his mother's blanket, he finally replied. “No, not yet. Like I told you, the funeral home needs a certain amount of money, and then the state will kick in their portion.”

“Oh, wow; damn,” Lonnie's dad responded in between choking off what he told his son was some good-ass Kush. “That's real fucked up. Your momma was a good girl; even back in the day. Yup; sorry for her luck.”

Lonnie knew that was about as good as it was gonna get in the way of his dad showing any sort of sympathy. With that much being said, the youngster felt this was the opportune time to not only update him with his present living predicament but also cut into him once more about housing with him. “Yeah, me too, but listen, Dad. Earlier today, they threw me and momma stuff in the garbage and—”

“You mean you got evicted from the damn apartment?” He choked a few more times before waiting for Lonnie's response.

“Yes, Dad. And now I don't have anywhere to go. I'm out here in the streets bold; homeless,” he wanted to cry as he noticed how many minutes he'd used on his government-issued cell.

The older of the two knew exactly where this conversation was going and cut right to the chase. “Listen, Lonnie, like I told you the other week, your pops doing bad right about now. So if you called me looking for me to put a roof over your head, I can't do it. I'm out here bold my damn self. I'm chilling with this female at her house.”

“Yeah, but, Dad, at least you not homeless like me,” Lonnie pleaded his case as the cashier started to give him the evil eye as to why he was still camped out in the restaurant.

“Yeah, little nigga, I'm not shit like you. And I'm damn sure not trying to be. Now, you and your momma used to think y'all was all that and the hell with me; cool. Now she dead and gone you can keep the tradition going.”

“It's like that, Dad, seriously?”

“I guess so.”

Lonnie hung up, knowing that was the last time he'd ever speak to his father again in life. If it was fuck him, then the feeling would be more than mutual.

* * *

Just as the anguished adolescent was about to order another large cup of soda, this time no ice so it would last longer and he'd be able to stay put without judgment, his cell phone rang. Praying it was his father having a sudden change of heart, Lonnie swiftly answered. “Hello.”

“Hey, Lonnie, this is Karisma; from school Karisma. I told you I was going to call this evening so we could discuss the project.”

“Oh, hey. What's going on?” Lonnie's voice was weak, which his classmate immediately picked up on.

“Dang, Lonnie, what's wrong with you? Are you okay? You sound like something is strange with you.”

Karisma was not only Lonnie's classmate, she and he were going head-up, neck and neck for who would be the class valedictorian. A friendly rivalry at best, the two would sometimes study together or bounce ideas off each other. He used to comfort her when her foster mother was being mean or the other kids at school would judge and bully her for not only being homosexual, but for being different, period. That was the extent of their always-during-school-hours relationship. However, like most of the students at their school, she too knew Lonnie's moms had just died of cancer. The once-blessed Lonnie had his mother's love and a roof over his head; now that was gone, she felt for him having to go it alone out in the world. Karisma wanted to be there for Lonnie the best she could but didn't know what to say. The young truly orphaned girl didn't have much of anything to really offer. Truth be told, the homeless Lonnie had more cash to his name than she did. But whatever she had, Karisma made sure Lonnie knew he was good for it.

Karisma not only offered to give him some words of wisdom seeing how she'd been without parents for years. Her foster mother was all right for the most part when it came down to basic needs; however, anything else of any type of real affection was out of the question. Lonnie had rejected Mrs. Bishop's idea because of the way Karisma was being treated by the system.

Hearing her classmate's plight, Karisma took it upon herself to come up with a plan. Giving him her address, she told him to come around to the side door of the house she lived in and she would sneak him in the basement to spend the night. She had been having special visitors for the last six months or so creep and never once got caught. The huge difference was Lonnie was a male and most of Karisma's other company was females. Without hesitation, he eagerly told her he was on the way.

It was well past midnight and Lonnie had cried on Karisma's shoulder just about from the moment he'd arrived. Maybe it was because she liked girls and dressed like a dude that made her seem to understand his dilemma and not judge like most of the other females he'd encountered over the past month or so. The white administrator who denied his mother a bed in the hospital when she needed it the most; Mrs. Bishop who tried to throw him in foster care and vindictively wouldn't give him some basic information; the money hungry heffa at the funeral home that refused to let her father work for free; that side eye giving thot cashier mad because he was sitting in the booth too long; and, of course, that old casket-ready, makeup-wearing skank that caused him to be homeless. All five of them were nothing more than some dick-thirsty whores that seemed like their lives' ambition was to make men miserable.

Thankfully, Karisma was different. She was willing to help a brother when he was down and out. Like his teacher and the caretaker and funeral director, they all got it. As for his father, Lonnie had counted him out as a man and knew he was nothing more than an honorary female.

Stretched out on an old pullout couch near the furnace room, Lonnie slept like a baby. It seemed like this was the first good night's rest he'd gotten since his mother's death. It was as if he was free from whatever hold, good or bad, that apartment he once called home had on him. Blessed with a small portion of Karisma's breakfast and dinner for three days straight, Lonnie was in halfway good spirits. Having had the opportunity to make it to his interview at McDonald's, he was ecstatic to be starting work by week's end.

Getting out of school an hour or so later than Karisma, Lonnie called his friend's cell phone twice and received no answer. After waiting a short while and she still hadn't returned his call, he sent her a text. Lonnie knew, like most kids their age, they kept their cell phones basically glued to their hands. Ready to meet Karisma back at the house, Lonnie texted her again. This time leaving several question marks asking what time, he waited while checking his book bag for his homework assignments. After a few seconds, his chime notification went off. Much to his relief, then disappointment, he got an immediate reply.

“What the heck?” Lonnie mumbled out loud after reading the message two or three times. Of course, the teen immediately hit her number back asking just who was texting. And most importantly, where in the hell was his friend Karisma.

“This is her foster mother.”

Lonnie was thrown off. He didn't know what to say or what to think. Clearing his throat, he finally spoke. “Hello. I was looking for Karisma.”

“Oh, really?” she sarcastically replied with attitude.

Lonnie could easily sense the tension in the woman's voice but remained as respectful as possible. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you, but—”

“But what?” she barked, not letting up.

“I'm just trying to get in touch with Karisma, that's all.”

“That's all?” she questioned, raising her voice as if he'd stolen something.

Lonnie was confused. All he wanted to do was speak to his friend and find out what the 411 was. “Miss, I don't mean to go against what you texted me, but I really need to talk to her.”

“About what?” she fumed obviously pissed off. “About you and her taking over my house; breaking my rules, and doing what you both damn well please? Is
that
what you two low-life-scheming throwaways need to plot on?”

At that point in the one-sided heated conversation, Lonnie knew his friend's foster mother had somehow found out their secret. As if matters could get any worse for the troubled situation teen, now he and Karisma were straight busted for what they'd been up to. Although Lonnie felt bad for her having to suffer directly from the fallout of their basement living deception, he quickly realized he was the one that was gonna catch the short end of the stick. Karisma was in the system, so the worse that was going to happen to her was she's probably get sent to another foster home. Lonnie, well, he was back where he started from a few days ago; homeless. “Look, I don't know what you're talking about. I just wanted to speak to your foster daughter.” He tried to keep his fronts up, in hopes he might be wrong about what the woman was insinuating, but deep down inside, he knew the gig was up.

“Okay, you wanna be a smart-ass, I see, huh? So, okay, I'll play your little game. Is your name Lonnie Eugene McKay? Is it?”

“Huh?” He was thrown off. She'd said his entire government name.

“You heard what in the heck I said, boy! Is that your name?” she demanded to know with authority.

“Well . . .”

“Well, what?”

Lonnie had no other recourse but to answer truthfully, so reluctantly, he did just that. “Yes, that is my name.”

“Of course, it is. And do you want to know just how I know that?”

“Well, umm . . .” he puzzled out loud.

“Because I have a duffle bag with some of your stuff in it; a damn bag that you and that sneaky Karisma had hid behind the old couch in the basement.”

“Miss, I can explain. It's definitely not what you think. If you can just listen and hear me out.”

“Naw. It's no need to hear any of your sure-to-be lies. You see, one of that Karisma's little supposed girlfriends she was apparently having sex with in my house felt the need to knock on my front door and ruin my day. All of you are going right to hell. God's Word doesn't condone none of that sinful crap those girls were doing! And right under my roof, no less!”

Lonnie's eyes grew as he listened to her reveal how she'd found out. He was shocked but knew what he had to do and say. “I'm sorry about all of that. I truly am. But I swear to you I never touched Karisma in that type of way. I promise; we are just good friends, that's all. I didn't have anywhere to go so she—”

“So she took it upon herself to let you come here; to
my
home where she herself was a temporary visitor?”

“Well . . .”

“Well, I guess I should be glad you two devils at least didn't fornicate in my house like she did with those other confused-minded she devils.”

Lonnie listened to her go on and on about this, that, and the third for at least five minutes or so. She not once mentioned where Karisma was at and he not once found the courage to ask. The only part of her angry rant he focused in on was that she was throwing his bag of possessions, along with Karisma's personal property, into the Dumpster in the rear of her home where all the “sinful devil-worshiping garbage” belonged.

Saddened that he'd have to find somewhere else to lay his head at that night, he was even more distraught that Karisma's foster mother saw fit to make the judgment to toss his beloved belongings back into the trash as the apartment owner's workers had callously done only days before. She was just like every other ho in the world as far as he was concerned. With each step he took on the way to what was apparently his friend's ex-home, Lonnie had tears streaming down his face. The teen was down to his last money since treating himself and Karisma to fast-food lunch and dinner for the past few days, thinking he had a secure roof over his head. Now that was over. Lonnie couldn't win for losing. Once again out of options, he had to man up, and quick.