The Beggar

East St. Louis, 19981

The public bathroom was empty- had it been occupied, I wouldn't have used it. It's safest to trust no company on this side of town. I walked to urinal on the far side and unzipped. The cracking tiles, the yellow grought, the urin stench was everywhere. I'm not just talking about the bathroom. I'm talking about the entire hell-hole city. The door opens with a squeel.2

A black man, perhaps 40 years old, walked into the bathroom looking at nothing in particular. His hands were in his pockets, his jacket- torn, patched, faded, and torn again. Already I was nervous. His hands were in his pockets- I could only be suspicious of him now.3

He seemed in no hurry to do whatever it was he had to do in here. He paced about the room, seemingly with wrapt attention to the humming halogen lights. He paced about the room, with utter concern for the mold-splashed floor. He paced about the room, and finally settled stand right behind me. His hands were in his pockets. I turned around, and he spoke to me.4

"Hey man, can I have a few bucks? I needa eat, man."5

I've been mugged half a dozen times, and it always starts like this. His hands were in his pockets, probably fingering the haft of a switchblade, ready to pull it and claim what he needed.6

"If I give you money, how do I know you're going to spend it on food?"7

For years I was addicted to crack cocaine. I knew the routine- beg for money, buy a high. I've lived on the street, and I've slept with stray cats. Buy a ticket out of reality. His pitch-black eyes were fixed on mine, with all sincerity. 8

"You've gotta believe me man, I needa eat." 9

"How do I know I can trust you?"10

"I promise you man, I gotta eat."11

His hands were in his pockets. I figured that, even if he is going to buy drugs, it's better that I hand him the money and walk away with my neck. I reach into my wallet and remove a $10 bill, and the pitch-black eyes in his head grow wide. "12

"I'm going to give you this," I began, "and I am going to pray to God that you spend it on food. You'd better eat with this tonight."13

"Wow, ten dollars man," he said excitedly. His hands were in his pockets. "Are you for real man?"14

"For real. Take it."15

Tentatively, he pulled both hands from his pockets. He picked up the bill  with considerable difficulty with only stubs of fingers- all ten black stubs were screaming with frostbite. His hands went back into their pockets.16

"Thanks man, I'm gonna eat tonight."17

I couldn't say a word. He walked out of the bathroom with his hands in his pockets.18