Wanna read the latest from Clever Magazine?
Click here and return to the coverpage!

Julia is a mid-level manager for a large financial institution in a small western city.  She has been happily married for many years and has two grown sons.  Julia has both undergraduate and graduate degrees in business and finance, but her passions are reading, writing, storytelling and any activity that allows her to show off occasionally.

           It was early morning on a Friday. I pulled up to the stop light near the underpass in my green Dodge commuter car.  He was standing on the side of the road, hopping from one foot to the other and holding up a cardboard sign.  I glanced over and saw the words Homeless and Hungry and glanced away.  My belly hurt.  I’d been up for two nights worrying and walking the floor.  Did I have an ulcer?  My co-worker just had a gall bladder attack.  Was I headed down the same path?

            I glanced back.  He was younger than most panhandlers.  Looked to be about the age of my oldest son – mid-thirties maybe.

            I glanced away before we made eye contact.  I quit giving them money several years ago after my husband scolded me for being such an easy touch.

            That light just wouldn’t change.  I chewed another Tums.  Finally, I rolled down my window and motioned him over.  I was the third car back in line so he jogged a bit to get to me.  As he leaned down to put out his hand, I said get in.   His brown eyes widened in surprise, his smooth forehead wrinkled slightly and he frowned as he looked down at me.  He hesitated and took a step backward.  Go ahead and get in I urged.  He slowly walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and slumped down in the seat.  What’s up, he asked wearily.  

The light changed and we pulled away.  I didn’t say a word.  No what’s your name, what are you doing, how did you end up here.

I drove to the ATM machine and withdrew $200 in cash for my weekly grocery money.  I drove across the street to the Post Office and went in to buy stamps.  I took my debit card but left my purse in the car.  When I came back, he was still sitting slumped in the passenger seat with his hoody pulled over his head.  My purse was untouched.

I sat quietly in the driver’s seat and then reached out and began gently rubbing the gearshift between us.  I watched the other cars coming and going from the Post Office parking lot.  A mama duck was crossing the road with her babies trailing behind.  The Costco gas station attendant was carelessly wiping down the pumps.

When I glanced over at him, his hands were resting lightly on his knees.  He was as still as a mouse watching a cat.  

Softly I asked do you want to ride down the block with me to my office building.  No, he said, I ‘ll get out here.

He opened the door and before turning to step out, he finally looked over at me.  He opened and closed his mouth as though he wanted to ask a question, but in the end he said nothing.

He stood up and quietly closed the door behind him.  I drove away and didn’t look back.  My belly hurt.

Home | Contributors to Clever Magazine | Writers' Guidelines 
The Editor's Page | Humor Archive | Acknowledgements | About Clever Magazine | Contact Us

© No portion of Clever Magazine may be copied or reprinted without express consent of the editor.