What Happened?

With the laptop shut and issues from work settled, I looked out of my apartment window. At the restaurant tables I saw young, woke people laughing and enjoying the day. No reason they should have all the fun and leave me here like Squidward.

The sun was warm enough to seep through the back of my shirt. I stumbled to move out of the path of a bicycle, then a dog-owner, then a vaguely masculine-feminine relationship. I almost dropped my copy of The Rum Diary under the scaffolding as I weaved through a group of construction workers headed for the taco truck across the street.

Cars whizzed past as I grew impatient, waiting for the crosswalk signal to change. I tried my luck at crossing the street, and was lucky enough to not have been blasted by traffic. Tourists took photos of the nearby monuments and crowded the sidewalks. I just want to read in the sun.

I finally made it to a nice bench in the grass, where I plopped down and fixed my baseball cap. I began reading, peering up every now and then, distracted by the consistent tourist, homeless person, or fellow city dweller walking past. A man rode by twice on an electric bike, a sightseeing family dragged their unenthused teenager around the city monuments, and businessmen walked by with noise canceling headphones.

I was able to read a few pages before I noticed an old homeless man staring at me from the bench across the walkway. It wasn't so obvious he was homeless. He didn't seem like one of those stereotypical homeless, but there's something different about a man who doesn't have a dependable shelter. He continued to stare as I pretended to read but observed him from under my brim. I kept reading and looking around, noticing the other people in the city with me. The homeless man asked another young man something, to which the young man declined. Hoping he would cower from the sting of rejection, I looked back at my book and began reading.

A shuffling sound shifted my attention, my eyes snapped to focus up under my brim. The homeless man's feet clumsily dragged around on the concrete in front of me. I finally looked up and saw the man's inquisitive face. He stood there, wavering slightly.

"Do you know where I can get water?"

I looked down at my basketball shorts, puzzled.

"Uh, the library will likely have a fountain you can use." I pointed to the huge public library across the street. The man rubbed his neck.

"Nah, I don't want to walk that far." He said, then muttered, "... got these broken bones in my foot."

I looked around the park, and around the bench. "Yeah, I don't know. The library is probably the best bet."

"That's alright, I don't want to walk that far." He pointed to the bus station the same distance as the library, but in the other direction. "I'll just go over to the bus station, and I'm sure they'll be able to help me out."

He walked closer and sat on the bench next to me. Confused, I observed him a little longer. He was old and the years had been rough on him. He wore a Pizza Hut delivery jacket, light blue jeans, and hiking boots. The sun burnt the white skin on his hands which were gripped around the blue winter jacket he clutched. Two lesions under his right eye were fresh and visible. The non-descript hat kept the sun out of his eyes, just as mine did, but he found no use for the sunglasses perched atop the bill.

I picked up my book and looked down at the page. He scratched an itch on his calf over the denim pant leg.

"Man, what happened to Denver?"

I turned my head. He stared back, curious.

"Pssh, I don't know man." I looked down at my book.

"Are you from here?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm from... the city."

"From Denver?"

"Yeah."

"What the fuck happened? It's like, wow. I look around and this is way different from how it was when I first came back from deployment. It's like what the fuck happened?"

My head turned back and forth from him to my book.

"I don't know man, it's probably something similar to what's happening across a lot of places in America."

"You've got that right. It's happening in Omaha too. That's where I'm from. But I like Omaha, as a city, better than Denver."

"Hmm," I hummed, not sure what to say.

"Omaha is pretty nice. I just got back from the doctor's. I've had high blood pressure half my life. I'm almost 70, and I've had high blood pressure since I was 50. But the medication was doing bad," he looked to make sure I was still paying attention. I don't know why, but I was.

"You know, those medications have weird effects, like sudden death. But this one was making me blind, so I said no way." He made a stop gesture with his hand, and I nodded quietly in approval.

"Alright, well, I'm going to get going." He shuffled the coat between hands and shifted his body weight as if mustering to stand up.

"What the fuck happened to Denver, man?" He continued. "I'd like to go to Ireland. That's where I was concieved."

"There's plenty to drink there." I said.

He broke out into a hearty laughter, "Yeah, I guess that's right. Well, I'll get up now."

I looked down at my book. The jacket shuffled in his hands again.

"I had two people try to steal this jacket from me last night while I was half-blind. Well, more than half."

"And you got it back both times, huh?"

He laughed again, "Well yes. The first one was a little guy. He thought I was just fat, but when I saw him I yelled. It spooked him so he dropped it and ran off."

"Well, that's good." I assured him.

"Yeah, but then he dropped it strategically so that a bigger guy just ran by and snatched it. And he was more of a problem."

I didn't say anything.

"So, you like living in the city?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah, I like it. I like being able to walk around to different places. I don't have a car."

"Ah, yeah. I used to have a car, but it crapped out on me."

We continued a few cycles of him asking me about Denver, telling me about himself and his medical history, and then saying he's going to leave. He introduced himself as Steve, and I never was able to pin down what was wrong with Denver. He assured me that it wasn't the weed. He mentioned something about small towns attracting lots of people. I fanned the pages of my book.

Steve finally mustered the strength to get up, rocking his torso for momentum. We shook hands and he headed for the bus station.

I sat on the bench for a few more minutes, watching people walk through the park.