RL TAYLOR, ...real...contemporary...fiction

The rapping on the window began again, startling him.

              “I said wake up!” The persistent tapping against the driver’s side window of the Chevy Malibu woke Royce Tyler from his deep sleep. It was the first night of decent rest he’d had in weeks.

              “Get out of here! What does this look like to you? This is a park, not a campground.” The city maintenance worker frowned heavily. His lip curled into a snarl as he banged his tight fist against the foggy car window.

               “I’m moving, I’m moving,” Royce mumbled while he adjusted the car seat to the proper upright position. He yawned wide and with a swift wipe of the eyes, he fired the modest V-6 engine. Rough idle. The well worn car needed a tune-up in the worst way.

               “I’m sick of you bums camping out here. I’ve got your license plate number. I’ll report you,” the man said. A flurry of foreign words followed as he pumped his fists in frustration and disgust.

              Royce kept his head away from making eye contact and accelerated slowly out of the parking area. He passed the sign to his left that read, Prospect Park.  Once the maintenance worker vanished from view the shame set in. It rarely left. Shame had become his shadow that followed him ubiquitously, similar to a younger brother. He’d been sleeping in his car for over a month.

              At first he’d park in a 24-hour grocery store or a deserted parking lot. But those places had sometimes grown too hectic, too risky. Someone might see him sleeping there. They’d see all the crumpled cardboard boxes and plastic bags he had overcrowding the dinged-up tan mid-sized vehicle. They’d ask questions. He’d be forced to answer them and tell them the truth. He was homeless.

* * *

              Paula Daniels rolled over in her king-size bed and peeked at the alarm clock next to her. 7:30 already? She had an appointment scheduled for 9:00 a.m. sharp downtown with a group of physicians from Mercy Health Systems. The hospital had just been approved to carry out a brand new research study in their oncology department. Being late for their appointment would be no way to make a good impression with the busy staff.              

              She’d exerted great effort to become the top pharmaceutical sales representative for Form Tech Incorporated. The group of potential clients meant a large commission and bonus. She hoped a lucrative partnership between Form Tech and Mercy Health Systems would be facilitated.

              She hurried off to shower as her ivory colored 500 thread count sateen sheets were tossed into a heap at the foot of her cherry wood sleigh bed. She took a few steps and glanced out her twenty-first story window. The sunlight poured inside the room and woke her up like a pep talk. She loved the expansive view. One of the many reasons she rented the one bedroom luxury apartment. Paula yawned as she entered her Italian inspired bathroom.

              After a quick shower an outfit was selected from one of the endless business suits that hung inside her walk-in cedar lined closet. Once the plastic was detached from the all black ensemble she tossed it hurriedly towards the floor. Paula dressed in record time and exited the apartment. She turned and marched down the hallway. Time evaporated at an alarming rate. The elevator ride downstairs seemed to last forever.

              A quick peek at her watch showed 8:25 a.m. as she skipped out the high rise apartment buildings front door. She smiled at Harvey, the buildings awkward doorman who salivated over her on a daily basis. Her favorite coffee shop, Baby Bean, was one block east. If she hurried, she’d have time to grab a tall caramel latte to enjoy on her six block cab ride north to Mercy Health Systems Hospital.

* * *

              The thirty year old brown linoleum tile felt ice cold as Royce changed into his dress socks inside the cramp bathroom booth. He lowered the yellow tinted toilet seat and sat down to slip on his worn in coffee brown Stacy Adams loafers. He zipped up the worn-in duffel bag after stuffing the remainder of his garments inside. Royce stood and a sigh escaped from within. The shame followed thereafter.

              As he exited the foul-smelling booth an elderly afro wearing janitor with wrinkled copper skin entered the two-star downtown hotel restroom to clean up before the morning rush. The Skyline Inn wasn’t known for upscale clientele.  Most times, cheap skate visitors from out of town, or young kids seeking a party would rent out a room at the family owned establishment.

              The janitor’s old face glared at him with inquisitiveness as his eyes followed Royce’s hand clutching the duffel bag. Royce moved past him and gave a polite nod while beginning to wash his hands. Where else could he go to wash up and change?        

              The Skyline Inn was ideal. It was seldom crowded, with an easily accessible bathroom, out of the front desks view. Perfect. He’d tried washing and changing in other locations. This worked best and he’d taken full advantage of its convenience for the past week. Friday had arrived and sadly, two other days the same janitor spotted him in the restroom before nine a.m. with the same tattered red duffel bag tucked under his arm.

              Royce dried his hands with a few paper towels and took a final look in the smudgy mirror. The janitor kneeled down and promptly began to attack the urinals, only pausing briefly to look over at Royce and grunt. He followed the grunt with a laugh. Royce immediately ceased fussing with his tie and walked out the door, head down. His clothes weren’t too wrinkled considering their escape from a garment bag. He smoothed the front of his jacket.

               Friday was the one day he’d been in anticipation of all week. He’d applied for a sales position at Xpert Paper, a well known paper and graphic arts supplier. The pay would be based on an average salary plus commission.      

              Royce walked outside the hotel side door and approached his car. He opened the door and shoved the duffel bag into the front passenger seat. Driving a few blocks north he wheeled into a parking lot and brought the car to a halt. He hopped out and scoped out the area, quickly leaving the scene. Part of him felt horrible for parking at the hospital in a spot designated for clergy. But the parking was free and at the moment that was all that mattered.           

              The Xpert Paper office location sat a mere two blocks away. He smoothed out his suit one last time and began the short commute. Halfway down the block a taxicab pulled up to the sidewalk next to him. The mud thrown from the cabs tires in the road nearly splashed against his light tan suit. He jumped back to avoid the potential mess.

              An attractive leg stuck out from the back seat. The leg was followed by a hand carrying a briefcase. Royce paused, and then followed the leg up to the torso, all the way until he reached the angelic face of Paula Daniels, his girlfriend from college.

              He gasped. She once owned his heart, along with a trail of other men who reminisced over their brief time with her. He hadn’t seen her in years.

               He never dreamed he’d see her like this; living in a car, jobless, and stripped of all his confidence. But there she stood, staring back at him with her same electrifying smile. She hadn’t changed a bit. She’d only gotten better with time, aged like a fine wine. She closed the cab door and approached him. He had nowhere to hide, and no way to explain.

              He was homeless.

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