The Unhoused Gift
by Peter R. West
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 2
I wish I was dressed like Santa Claus, so no one will recognize me. I can’t believe I am doing this, Stanley thought to himself. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, he made his way down the sidewalk toward the homeless camp, carrying the big Phil’s Deli box, still more than half-full with his family’s leftovers. Despite the smell of rotting food and discarded old clothes, the camp appeared more habitable up close, with its rows of small and tidy blue tents.
Stanley walked gingerly, trying to avoid the garbage that was strewn about. A strong voice pierced the night air: “Glad you aren’t driving again. You carrying a gift?” Max was sitting on a crate next to one of the tents, with a few of the camp residents assembled around him. Some were drinking booze; others were huddled together due to the night’s chill.
Stanley set the box on top of a crate, trying not to move some playing cards. He started with a low voice. “The Thanksgiving dinner I had brought home was way too big for our family; miscalculated a bit.” Blank stares. He raised his voice. “So, we decided... uh, my wife suggested that I bring all this here, so you guys can share.”
They eyed the box with suspicion; by now they all knew who Stanley was, and whom he had defended. Stanley opened it: ivory utensils, paper plates adorned with pictures of pumpkins and seasonal flowers, a golden-brown turkey, Irish pasture dark green beans, fluffy white mashed potatoes with yellowish butter dripping down their summits, and ruby-red cranberry sauce, all appearing to have been barely touched.
Max’s eyes opened wide. “Well, thanks Stanley. What do you say folks? Can’t disappoint the Mrs., so let’s dig in.” Max passed the food around on the paper plates. Then he motioned to Stanley to come and walk with him around the camp, taking a covered plate loaded with food with him.
“What’s your interest with this place?” he said, waving his arms.
“I... I felt bad after the crash, and since we had extra food...” His voice trailed off.
“Yes, but seems you have other agendas: first, you defend a developer who wants us out, then you drive by and almost literally crash into us, and now the food. Is there something else?”
Stanley was not sure what Max knew, so he gave a noncommittal answer. “I drive by here on my way to work. I take a look.”
“Are we some sort of a local zoo where you can watch the animals in their habitat?”
“I don’t think of you guys like that.”
“Then maybe you know who is making the latest effort to kick us all out of here. Seems there is some new day care nearby initiating actions. Are you a part of that?”
Stanley was not prepared for this and didn’t know what to say.
Max continued: “You don’t seem surprised by this new case, maybe just by the fact that I know. Well, some of our people got the initial citations today, so best you level with me.”
Stanley came clean and told him that Geins was pushing for this action. “But this could actually help you all find a new place.”
“You think that leaving here will get us some beachside condos somewhere? Usually, we are given temp housing. Maybe a few make it back to regular society, get jobs with pay they can barely survive on. But the majority? Would you hire any of these lost souls? They go right back to the streets.”
Stanley examined Max’s face. “So, what are you doing here? You seem smart. You can talk better than most of the lawyers I come up against.”
Max chuckled. “I used to have higher positions, but circumstances knocked me down. Led me here. And once here, I realized that this could be my mission. Help these people maintain some level of humanity. Try to get a few of them back to regular society before drugs and alcohol destroy their brains.”
“That is a big sacrifice.”
Max brushed his hair slightly with his palm. “I do miss a cushy bed once in a while.”
They kept walking, and Stanley grasped for the first time how big the encampment was. They passed two women huddled under a blanket, smoking cigarettes. Dull eyes peered from dirty faces. The younger, a teenager, likely the daughter, flicked her ashes at Stanley’s feet without looking up. A bicycle loaded with clothes, cooking utensils, and toiletries came to a stop. Its owner unpacked a torn blanket, placed it on the pavement, and sat down. A young boy ran by him chasing a ball dangerously close to the street. His mom threw a broken chair at him to make him stop.
Max shrugged and then continued. “Take that Bianca, for example, the wife of the victim, Bennie. How does she get back to anything when she is about to give birth any day now? And no medical. Might have to do it right here. On the street.”
“Isn’t there something that can be done?” said Stanley.
“The first thing you can do is call off the hounds. It would be worse if she had to deal with a move in the middle of it all. The birth alone is almost thirty grand, more if it’s a C-section, and then there’s the cost of the baby. No baby showers with these folks.” He pointed to a couple of unshaven men huddled inside an open tent, smoking, as far as Stanley could tell, crack. He looked back at Stanley and straightened his collar. “I liaison with LA Alliance for Human Rights. Maybe they can help some.”
They arrived at a tent that was decorated with kids’ animal stickers. It was at the edge of the camp, situated right next to the entrance to the new development. Behind it was a bright sign announcing the coming availability of luxury condominiums with a picture of a smiling family frolicking by an indoor swimming pool. The light from the sign saturated the area with a blinding golden-yellow color.
Max called out. “Bebe, I got the iron and the supplements for you.” She came out of the tent, looking like a teenager with her hair gathered in a ponytail. He handed her two boxes with the vitamins she’d been waiting for, as well as a plate with the turkey Stanley had brought. “With compliments from this lawyer.”
She smiled big, turned to Stanley. “Thank you. How is your forehead? I was worried about you.”
“All OK, thanks. You are the one we should be worried about.”
“With Max here, I will survive. And you’ll be surprised how handy we all are around here.”
“You going to be OK with this?” Stanley pointed to her belly.
“Going to be one tough child. Born to hustle for everything.”
She motioned for Stanley to step closer, then she dove into the tent and came out with an old-fashioned photo album. She started leafing through the pages. “My Bennie made this. Here are pictures from when we had our own place, before he lost his job. Wanted our son to see we were not always homeless.”
Stanley peeked at the smiling pictures of Bianca and Bennie inside a small, sparsely furnished apartment. One showed them cooking with worn-out skillets. “Yes. This looks, uh... really nice.”
“I know it wasn’t that much, but better than this. We were happy. My son deserves to be happy too. I’m going to make sure he is.”
He looked around and saw cars zipping by. “Well, I am impressed with how well you’re handling this. But you should deliver in a protected place, a hospital.”
“We got this woman here. She knows a lot about giving birth. We call her a doula. She’ll help me.”
Stanley tried to nod his approval. His face was blank.
* * *
Geins was looking at a certificate from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art Legacy Circle. It thanked him for supporting the arts with his generous donations. He motioned to Stanley to take a seat on an oversized metal chair with a luxurious arched top.
The rest of the furniture was also large with tapered legs, contoured edges, and reinforced fabrics. To complete the Deco look, a vintage clock with mirrored panels hung on a brightly painted textured wall between two large pieces of bold art.
Geins started cracking up as he addressed Stanley. “Were you trying to outdo me, driving your monster of a car up that vagrant camp?”
“Just an unfortunate accident. No one got hurt.”
“Good. Probably best you steer clear of that place until we get it vacated. I’m sure those transients aren’t terribly fond of you. Could turn violent.”
“For the most part, they treated me well,” replied Stanley.
“Why are you talking to these people?”
“My wife thought it’d be a good idea to deliver our dinner leftovers to them.”
“Are you nuts!” Geins recoiled. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I expect to have that whole dangerous place cleared up any day now.”
“They were actually quite civil. Especially the wife of that fellow you accidentally killed.”
“I hope you are not developing some infatuation with her.”
“She is pregnant, you know. Going to deliver soon. Nothing sleazy here, just charity.”
“Sure. I also give to all kinds of charities. But this is business.” He looked at the donation certificate. “And I don’t have to apologize to anyone. I invest my own time, and money, to build a more luxurious Los Angeles, and these people are in the way.”
“And where should they go?”
“Why is that my concern? I didn’t put them there. And if you are feeling sorry all of a sudden for that dead vagrant’s wife, well, he should have thought twice before attacking me. Remember who you’re working for, Stanley.”
Stanley got up and looked outside the window at the sprawling city below. “I already got you off in court, what else do you want?”
Geins waived him off.
* * *
Stanley didn’t have better luck with Amy Trent. She had already booked a few day care clients and was not about to slaughter her new cash cow prematurely.
On the way home, traffic was hell. Countless shoppers headed toward the palaces of retail, as if beckoned by ancient sirens, ready to crash their bank accounts with the traps of new merchandise.
* * *
The following week, Stanley was trying to focus on the endless words that filled the stack of files on his office desk. Each held a promise of a hefty retainer to come. The phone rang.
It was his wife. She was worried because he’d seemed distracted since his accident. She wondered if he should see a doctor about that head scratch.
“Is it that bad?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen you so preoccupied. I just want to make sure you are fine.”
“Well, I’ve been troubled by that homeless camp.”
“But the case is over.”
“It is more complicated than just that. I’m coming home early. We can talk then.”
* * *
“So, what’s the big mystery?” asked Michelle as he walked onto their patio. She was sitting on a padded chair, drinking a cup of coffee from a big earth-brown cup. She nibbled on slices of sourdough avocado toast and fresh berries laid out on a ceramic tray.
Stanley joined her and told her all the details of his encounters with Max and Bianca and his growing feelings that he had to do something.
“You brought them the turkey. That was a very nice gesture.”
“Yes, and it felt good. But remember I told you I had started some action to kick these people off that encampment. Well, I can’t stop it anymore. Geins is involved and he is determined to see them gone.”
Stanley knew she didn’t love Geins, but he also knew she wanted the homeless moved.
“Wouldn’t they be better off? They will get a chance at new housing, won’t they?”
“Temporary. Most of them end up right back on the streets. The city still lacks proper resources to deal with it. And with some of them, it’s mental. They don’t want to go back to normal society. Just boozing it up on a sidewalk.”
“So? It’s not your job to fix all of this city’s problems. You’ve worked hard for what we got here. You deserve it without any guilty feelings.”
Stanley stretched on the chair and took in the view. It was an LA tapestry: green rolling hills, tall palm trees, big homes, swimming pools. “I know. But that pregnant girl about to give birth in the middle of all that chaos... Maybe I just feel accountable for getting her husband’s killer off.”
“Are you saying Geins deliberately killed that man?”
“Hazy circumstances. She told me that her husband wanted Geins’s bright sign out, to allow her to sleep better. They got into some altercation. And he died. Obviously, Geins should have let the authorities deal with that. Maybe then it wouldn’t have ended with a loss of life.”
“Nothing definite here. And you were just doing your job. I don’t know how we can help that young girl.”
“I can possibly find her some place to stay.”
“Just don’t ask me to adopt her. Already been through two kids and four dogs.”
Michelle was only vaguely familiar with the story of Stanley’s cousin. But she wondered aloud if past guilt was playing a role here. Stanley dismissed that and curled up in his chair.
* * *
He got his car back a few days later and drove toward his work on a perfect Southern California morning. The sky was crisp blue and the early winter sun kissed the hills with its softer rays, giving them a deeper hue of green and brown. He turned in the direction of the homeless encampment for a quick consultation with Max.
The camp was gone! The sidewalk was completely bare. The tents and the people had disappeared. Cityscape Paradise loomed larger now behind the wall that had previously separated the encampment from the development. Stanley stopped the car. Have I been away from here for that long? Or did Geins move things up for fear I’d botch his plans?
He got out of the car and looked for some sign of life. A cleaning crew was finishing with the final pieces of trash left behind, depositing them into a metal dumpster parked by the curb. Stanley asked the bored supervisor what had happened to the homeless.
“Police came yesterday; had a court order. Took them all away.”
“Where did they take the people?” Stanley asked.
“A bunch were arrested for drugs and other illegal activities. Probably will be arraigned today.” The supervisor studied Stanley’s face. “What are these people to you, sir?”
“I’m a lawyer. I had business with some of them. Do you know where they are holding them?”
“Best start at Superior. Downtown. I’m sure they will have details on the others if you can’t find your convict.”
Stanley got back in his car. He grabbed his phone but realized he had no way of reaching Max, or any of them. He headed to court.
* * *
Copyright © 2024 by Peter R. West
