“You don’t look good. You should stay,” he beseeched.
Ignoring the ache in my joints, I moved back to the door, chills already rippling across my skin from the winter air creeping inside. Turning back, I offered him a smile. “I’ll be fine.” Before he could say anything more, I gestured to the woman. “Please come in, ma’am. Turns out I can’t stay.”
“There’s a bed?” she asked, eyes moving between me and the man behind me.
He was silent a moment but then replied, “Yes. One just opened.”
Resigned, I left the protection of the building to step back out onto the grungy sidewalk. A hand on my arm brought me around to a pair of dull, tired eyes. “God bless you, son. God bless you.”
I laid my hand over hers. Between us, there was no warmth to share. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll go across town.”
“Enjoy those young bones while you got ‘em,” she said, patting my arm.
Smiling, I turned away while the man helped her inside and closed the door for the night. Even with the noise of the hustling city, I heard the lock slide home. With it, despair swelled in my chest, making it tighter than it already was.
I wasn’t sure if a heart could hurt, but I was pretty sure mine did.
The more I walked, the wearier I became, and I knew I’d never make it to the other side of the city in time to get a bed.
This is what your neediness got you. I battered myself.Chasing after something that isn’t even yours. You should be gone by now. Somewhere warmer. You can’t keep enduring poverty to chase a ghost.
Knees protesting with every step, I walked on, turning into an alley where I’d spent more than one night. The effort of holding up my head started to wear, and I wondered, not for the first time, if other people got tired of carrying around their own body. Desperate for rest, I leaned into the nearby brick, heaving out a sigh. I wanted to lie down, curl into a ball, and close my eyes. I wanted it so much I throbbed with it.
Shifting so my back was against the wall, I swept my eyes over the alley, landing on a few boxes lined up beside the dumpster. It would be better to get a motel room, but maybe I could rest for a few minutes before moving on.
Relief coursed through me, and I pushed away from the wall, dragging my feet across the alley toward the boxes. My sneaker slipped on a patch of black ice, and my entire body locked up as I fought to stay on my feet. Pain flickered as I flailed, eventually losing the battle and ending up on my ass.
Tailbone stinging, nose sniffling, I scooted the rest of the way to the boxes. One was ruined from the snow, but the one in the middle looked brand new. I crawled inside, the cardboard creating a thin barrier between me and the rest of the world. It wasn’t much, but it blocked the wind, and when I sank, some of the tension that was coiled in my limbs eased.
The box wasn’t huge, but I wasn’t either, so I fit just fine. Limited space just meant less to heat. After pulling the flapsdown for more protection, I did just as I’d been imagining and put my back to the open side, rolling into a small ball.
Digging into my coat, I tugged the oversized hood of the sweatshirt up through the neck and bunched the excess fabric beneath my cheek. Sighing, I tucked my hands inside the coat and closed my eyes. It felt so nice to lie down, to give the burden of my weight to the ground beneath me. Burrowing my nose a little deeper into the makeshift pillow, I snuffled around, searching for the scent. Stale cigarettes and leather with a hint of something I couldn’t name. Though, after a week of continuous wear, it was beginning to fade. I tried to tell myself it didn’t bother me, but then I’d catch myself burying my nose in fabric like an addict desperate for a hit.
A faint echo of smoke burned my nostril, and I let out a tiny whimper. In that moment, I was not curled inside a cardboard box but back in that hotel room. Fear wasn’t absent. For a man like me, it probably never would be. But fear wasn’t as frightening in the presence of trust.
And I realized as I lay there, sleep tugging on my consciousness, the reason I was still lurking the streets of Buffalo, looking for a man without a face, was because I trusted him before I remembered I shouldn’t.
I succumbed to fitful sleep, trembling and aching as wind battered the box. Despite the chills running all over, my forehead was damp and my throat painfully dry.
A draft of cold air rushed in, curling around my back and brushing over my cheek. I whined against it, blinking bleary eyes over my shoulder where the flaps of the box were peeled back.
Stupid wind,I thought, starting to roll over. Before I could,a large shape filled the opening, blocking out what little light was left on the street. I jolted, skittering to the very back of the box as hands grabbed my limbs and pulled.
“No,” I croaked, the protest turning into a cough. “Leave me alone!” I yelled as I was yanked completely out of my shelter.
A grunt. A low curse.
“You can hit me all you want, Pip. I’m not putting you down.”
It was a voice I’d barely heard. Not nearly enough to be considered familiar. But he didn’t have to be familiar in order to be recognizable.
I stilled instantly, body slumping in the cradle that supported it.
“Don’t hold yourself up or anything. I’ll do all the work,” he mumbled.
“Hero…”
The body holding mine went rigid. “What?”
