My fingers itched to pull up a few sites for free reading. I loved webcomics, mostly the pay-by-chapter ones because that was all I’d really had access to in the past few years. I had a library card here in the city, but our library didn’t have webcomics and those computers also required payment. A few times, I considered buying a little bit of time so I could catch up on the comics I’d never been able to finish, but I’d have to pay for those too.
It was frivolous and irresponsible to spend money on those things when I needed to eat.
Someday, I promised myself. Someday, I’d be able to read all the webcomics I wanted, and I’d finally know what happened to the characters I’d had to leave behind.
Drinking more of the coffee, I noted the small timer at the bottom of the screen indicating how much time remained. I wouldn’t waste it. I was out of money, and with the winter storm, getting a bed at the shelter was going to be tough. Even if I did manage one, keeping it would be even harder.
Sitting forward, I typed in the address of the local classifieds I’d learned about from one of the shelters. I clicked on the gigs/same-day jobs category and helped myself to morecoffee as it loaded.
My fingers ached as I scrolled the listings, looking for some work that offered payment after shift. These were easy to find because a lot of places often needed odd jobs done but didn’t want to hire full-time staff. But as easy as they were to find, walk-on jobs were surprisingly competitive, usually first-come, first-served. And since I didn’t always have access to the listings, I was usually too late by the time I got there.
Using the filtering option, I selected “newest” and scanned the short list before scrolling back up to one posted just ten minutes ago.
Snow removal help needed. Shoveling sidewalks, parking spaces, and entrances. Small commercial and residential properties. Must be willing to work in inclement weather, have warm clothing, and be able to lift a shovel for several hours. No experience needed. Just show up and work. $40 per hour. Cash payment at the end of shift.
The listing went on to give an address, which I searched in a new window. It was about three blocks from the café. The area had an apartment complex and a few businesses.
Sitting back, I considered the work. My shoes and clothes weren’t really suited for shoveling snow, but my coat was warm. I’d be doing physical labor, so I probably wouldn’t get too cold.
Between you and me, I wasn’t really cut out for physical labor—short, thin, and with zero muscle mass to speak of. I’d get tired easily, and my body ached more than it didn’t. For a young guy, it wasn’t normal, but being homeless wasn’t either. I knew I needed to see a doctor. But first, I had to get the hell out of this arctic city.
I’d likely be able to walk right onto this job. How many people would be lining up to shovel snow in the middle of a blizzard? The conditions outside were miserable. But I could withstand it. Misery was something I knew well.
Let it be known that just because you could withstand misery didn’t mean you should seek it out. I wasn’t really a guy who wanted much in life…But there has to be something better than this.
So was this job a means to an end or a punishment for wanting more? Pondering the answer was more energy than I could spare as I labored, gusts whistling around every corner, rattling street signs, and cutting through my jeans. Just when my weary body felt as if it had given its all, the wind would ease, and I’d convince myself I could do just a little more. But it was always a false calm, as if Mother Nature were taking a breath before exhaling another blast of teeth-chattering cold. If not for the gloves the on-site boss had handed me, I’d already be down with hypothermia.
Sheer will kept me on my feet. That and the few breaks I’d snuck inside empty stairwells away from prying eyes. After four hours, the lot, entrances, and sidewalks were clear. The few other men hired for the day and I turned in our shovels, ready to collect our pay.
“Fifty extra if you spread this salt on the sidewalks,” the boss said, hauling a bag of salt from the bed of his truck. Without warning, he turned and tossed it at my chest, and I panicked.
Already shaking from exertion, my arms were slow torise and incapable of catching the bag. Instead, it went down, taking me with it. I landed on the freshly shoveled pavement, hip taking the brunt of the fall. Sharp pain radiated down my leg and into my knee. I lay there a moment, breathing rapidly before pushing up.
“Gotta put some meat on those bones, kid.” One of the nearby men chortled as he bent and picked up the salt. “I wouldn’t mind an extra fifty.”
He turned away as another man grabbed the second bag from the truck.
When they were gone, I stood on wobbling legs, shoving my hands deep into the pockets of my coat.
“Here’s your pay.” The man who’d tossed me the salt reached into his coat to pull out a plain white envelope. “Four hours at fifty totals out to two hundred.”
Surprise had me looking up. “You said forty an hour.”
“The conditions were worse than expected. You all endured a lot.”
Despite the screaming of my body and the way my finger joints ached from clutching the shovel so tightly, two hundred dollars suddenly felt worth it.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it sincerely.
“You did the work,” the man replied, gruff. “Honestly, I thought you’d tap out in an hour.”
Yeah, I had known just from the look on his face when I showed up and announced I was here for the snow removal job. When he asked me where my warm clothes were, I pointed to my coat with the fur-lined hood. He seemed doubtful, and I thought for sure he’d tell me to get lost. Instead, he handed mea pair of gloves and a shovel, and I was determined to prove I was stronger than I looked.
“Thanks,” I said, tucking the money inside my coat and quickly zipping it back up to my chin.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if he would need more help tomorrow, but I held back. Pride was one thing; stupidity was another. Two consecutive days of hard labor in the winter elements were more than I could handle. Every step I took was a sharp reminder.
I managed to make it down the block before I started limping, then ducked into the first diner I saw. Not one of those chain restaurants. They were too expensive. Just a local spot with hot coffee and faded, sticky menus. I slid into a booth away from the drafty door, the scent of frying food and coffee making me queasy. The heat was nice, though, and I relaxed into the padded seat, my entire body weeping with relief.
