CHAPTER 8
John stopped as soon as he stepped out of Joan's area. He had not been out into the warehouse since he had been brought in unconscious. He was astounded at the number of people inside. He'd been able to hear them talking and moving around outside the blanket walls, but he'd had no idea just how many were there.
The sound died down as people realized he had appeared outside of Joan's enclosure. Whispering got louder and louder as word spread about his sudden appearance. John didn't feel any threat from their interest, just curiosity. Looking a few of them in the eye he was surprised that quite a few smiled at him.
Taking a deep breath, he nodded at those who smiled and started walking, heading toward the direction where he could see daylight. Once outside he stopped again. He had no idea where he was. Looking left and right, nothing looked familiar. He was in a warehouse district. He was surrounded by buildings very similar to one behind him. There was little to no street traffic and nobody walking on the sidewalks.
The angle of the sun showed him it was morning. As that thought occurred to him, he remembered the coffee that Joan had shared with him. That made he think of Joan, which made him think about how much she had done for him, unasked.
That last thought made him bow his head. Joan had taken him in, taken care of him without being asked. And when she did ask for information, not money for that help, something she could obviously use, he'd walked out on her.
A couple came up behind him, leaving the warehouse. Saying 'excuse me' they stepped around him and walked down the street. Shortly thereafter, a man came out and actually bumped into him. "Sorry bud." and he continued on his way across the street. Realizing he was standing in front of the doorway, John turned to the right, the opposite direction of the couple and began walking.
Once he got to the corner he stopped. Again, nothing looked familiar. Feeling dizzy and light headed, John realized he was weaker than he thought. Turning the corner, out of sight of the doorway, he sat down on the sidewalk and leaned back against the building. Staring up the the cloudless blue sky he thought about Joan's offer.
Joan stepped out of her area and was met by almost half of the camp. "Where did he go?" "What did he tell you?" "Who is he?" "Where is he from?" were the few questions she could understand over all the ones being asked. Holding her hand up for quiet, she smiled. "I don't know any more than I did earlier. I told you I'd tell you what I know when I know it." Most people smiled and walked away grumbling.
Joe came up to her as everybody left. "Where did he go?" she asked.
"Out the door. Mack said he turned right but didn't follow him." Giving him a quick hug, Joan headed toward the warehouse door, grabbing two bottles of water to take with her.
Out on the street Joan stopped and looked for John. She didn't see him in either direction. The only real choice was to go right and see if she could find him. Approaching the end of the block, she saw something at the corner that looked like the legs of someone sitting on the ground. Smiling to herself she walked up to the corner and looked down. Reese looked up at her but then looked away.
She tapped him on the shoulder with one of the water bottles and offered it to him. Looking at the bottle Reese, thought for a moment then took it. Waving his right hand he invited her to sit down with him on the sidewalk.
Walking around him, Joan eased her way down til she was seated on the sidewalk next to him. Leaning back against the wall like John was, she unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and took a long swallow. Putting the cap back on she gave a big sigh and leaned her head back against the wall.
"Well? Do we have a deal?"
Squinting his eyes a little against the glare of the morning sun, John nodded.
"Good. I'll make it easy for you. I'll go first." smiled Joan.
"My son's name was Daniel." Joan said softly. John immediately picked up on her use of the past tense. He'd had a feeling that her son was no longer alive. Then he remembered the conversation on the bridge. She'd said she lost him two years ago. He felt her sadness as a physical thing.
"He was my only child. Raised him on my own after his father died. Wasn't easy. " she continued. Memories played in her mind's eye. "We didn't have much but after Danny's dad died we had even less. By the time Danny was 16 years old we had no home of our own. We lived in different shelters. Our time would run out in one and we'd move to another shelter. Eventually there was no place but the streets."
"Danny dropped out of high school before he turned 18. That was one of the saddest days of my life. I felt like such a failure. I couldn't provide a home for my child and now he was giving up his only chance to make something of himself." Joan's voice got lower and lower as she talked, the pain becoming clearer in her voice.
"But things got worse. He got himself into some trouble. I'm not going to go into detail. Let's just say the last thing he did was bad enough to get him up before a judge. The public defender wasn't a great help but...what's wrong is still wrong. " Again Joan paused as memories crowded one on top of another.
John turned to look at her. He was struck by the heartache so evident in her face. Even though she was the one who wanted to make the deal, it was obvious she was having a hard time continuing. She still hadn't said why he reminded her of her son.
John hadn't grown up on the streets. He'd lived at home with his mother and sister. His dad had died when he was 10 years old. Unlike her son, he hadn't dropped out of high school, he'd graduated. But he too had gotten into trouble right out of high school. Maybe that was the connection. Then he knew.
"Was your son in the military?" John asked.
"What?" John's voice brought Joan back to the present. "Was he in the military?
"Yes, he was."
"Did the judge offer him a choice of jail or the military?"
The question caught Joan off guard. She looked at John with surprise. "Yes, how did you know that?"
"Because that's how I ended up in the military." John said looking away. He'd already told her more than he meant to.
Joan turned to face John and put her hand on his arm. "I knew it. I knew it the minute I saw you that first time. There was something different about you compared to the other folks there. And not just because you had on a suit. It was the way you moved. You were aware of everybody around you." Looking a way for a moment, Joan tried to find the words to describe what she had felt and what she had seen that first day.
"You weren't scared. You looked prepared, capable. Guess that was your military training." Biting her lip she tried to remember his actions the other times she'd seen him at the soup kitchen. "Got my curiosity up. You're pretty slippery. Tried to see where you went when you left but by the time I'd get to the door you were gone!"
"But it was when I saw you on that bridge, thinking about doing something bad, I knew why you caught my eye." Joan was looking at John with such intensity that he could feel it. Turning his head, he was looking directly into her eyes. "You had the same lost look on your face as my son had...the last...the last time I saw him."
So her son hadn't died in front of her. "Why was that the last time you saw him?"
Bowing her head for a moment to get herself back together, Joan was surprised at how deeply it hurt to talk about her son out loud. She hadn't really talked to anybody about him after he'd died. Grief and shame played equal roles in her silence. She'd kept it all inside.
Raising her head she turned toward John and said, "That's enough from me right now. It's your turn."
Breaking eye contact, John stared out in front of him, not seeing anything, not even the warehouse across the street. Joan noticed a moment of panic in his eyes. He definitely did not want to talk about himself.
"We made a deal and I don't think you're one who goes back on his word." Joan challenged him.
Watching the emotions flashing over his face, Joan wondered how deep the story of Jessica was. He looked like it was buried way down. Finally John took a deep breath and held it. Exhaling slowly, she could tell he'd made a decision.
"Jessica was someone I knew..." he whispered, "...a long time ago, a lifetime ago."
The lack of information in that one sentence spoke volumes to Joan. She'd gotten pretty good at reading between the lines with people. On the streets you lived by your wits, staying one step ahead. John wasn't going to give up anything without a struggle...hell, without a hell of a fight!
"We were ..." he took so long to continue she was about to nudge him, but he finally continued. "...involved. But we broke up." he finished, with obvious effort.
"Why?" Joan prompted softly. She knew there had to be more to his story. The pain he was carrying around didn't come from a break-up with just any woman. She wanted John to admit what she was beginning to suspect...that he'd lost THE one. And he'd had something to do with it. At least HE thought so. Nothing else would explain the self-destructive behaviors.
"I was deployed. More than once." Images from 'over there' played through his memory. He hadn't talked to anybody about his time in the military in a long while. He kept getting lost in the memories he'd kept locked down.
"And? She didn't like you being gone? She didn't like being alone?" Joan prompted.
"No, nothing like that. I was the one that broke it off." John whispered with a catch in his throat. Guilt from that decision threatened to overrun his thoughts, dragging him back down into the abyss. He abruptly stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. He needed to get away. Get away from what, he wasn't sure.
