For Her Sake
Opening my eyes as the first sign of light fell upon my face.
“I am still alive, why is that?” I mumbled to myself as I looked around, everything was still the same. Nothing around the alley but dumpsters and piles of trash. Standing up, I reached into the dumpster next to me, a variety of reek ruptured in the air as I open the lit of the dump. After moments of foraging in litter and garbage, I came across of what look like a loaf of bread but it was rather green and wet, nonetheless, breakfast it is.
Right beside me was Jim, sleeping as he sat with his round knees on his flat chest and his long bony fingers covering his face. I poked him to wake as I separated the loaf of bread. Giving him his share, I sat beside him as his pink lips nimble on breakfast. Together we sat, looking to the end of the alley into the light that was too bright to see anything but we need not know what was there, for beyond that we know that life awaits.
Under a breath of frustration, Jim tossed the remaining of his meal aside and stood up and walked towards the light. He walked and walked until the lanky shadow of his’ disappeared into the light. Picking up Jim’s leftover, I too walked towards the light. Swallowing the last bit of breakfast, I licked my fingers clean as I knew that breakfast would be the last meal I’ll have for some time.
I stopped my pace as I was at the edge of the alley. A step or two and I’d be joining Jim in reality, I looked back into the alley. The alley so dark and abandoned, only lighted by the reflections of the light before me, the alley was safe, at least it was the safest place for me and Jim yet the peace was so fragile as it is an escape from reality. With a sigh, I stepped into the light.
“Alms, alms, alms” Jim begged as a fat man walked passed him. The fat man continued his walk without acknowledging Jim’s existence. Desperate and fed up, Jim stepped in the way of the fat man and raised his hands before the man and lowered his head, with all his strength, Jim managed to muster the phrase “alms”. Without sympathy and mercy, the fat man smacked the side of Jim’s head with the back of his hand, sending Jim to the ground. From his wet puffy lips, the fat man managed to expel the word “filth”.
Me and Jim, we’re beggars, we have no home, we have no one, we have nothing at all and every time we slept, we’d wished not to wake up again. The alley was our shelter, dark, abandoned and safe, it was where we’d escaped to when reality weights us down but no matter how much we hid and run, we knew that we had to step into the light and confront reality as it is necessary to survive. Everyday, the same thing goes on and on, meaningless but vital as time goes on and we’re not allowed to stop and die. Death had always been a choice of escape but we’d knew how hard it was to die, we had to starve to death or something. So we had chosen to struggle and survive with the aid of one and the other but there’s often a question in our doings, why do we strive when there is nothing at all? So, we live and struggle in this ambivalence.
Beyond the alley were rows of shops, we weren’t allowed to cross the wide street as we are unwelcome by the owners of the other side of the street. People flood the streets everyday, big and small, young and old and all ranges of wealth and poverty yet not many had lowered their pride to look at us, let alone aid us. Everyday we sat by the corner as shadows and people cross paths and with each by-passer, we’d beg for alms but luck was never in our side. Some would hit at us and some would even spit at us as if our very existence was unnecessary. Every once in a while, we’d get a penny or two or just unfinished beverage and food from those who pass. Often, we thank the nature of certain people that wastes as we are those who creep behind them, picking up whatever that is left unwanted and abandoned by them.
Jim pushed me aside as I tried helping him up. Looking to the left and right, the streets were empty as it was still early. A tear ran down Jim’s smudgy cheek as he pulled himself up, there’d be more pain and hardship the rest of the day.
Sitting and looking to the other side of the street, I noticed a blond boy with his blue eyes staring steadily at us as if he had not seen someone in agony in his life. He stood leaning on the wall with his well built arms crossed in his chest as he bit his pale lips under his blunt nose. Clothed plainly as if he was poor but the despise in his eyes told me he was as wealthy and selfish as those that abhors us can be.
Ignoring his gaze, I kept Jim calm as the very day was still young and we’d do our best to not attract too much attention and trouble. Unlike Jim, there was a time where I was embraced and showered with love. Years ago, my childish wits and looks had charmed a woman, a teacher to be precise. For months, she came everyday, she brought food and taught me to read and write but that was all she could give. One day, when she was teaching me math, a man came and the smile she wore on her face faded in an instance, the pink in her cheeks died and she was as pale as a sheet of paper. He stormed forward and pushed me aside and dragged her by the wrist against her will and that was the last time I’ve seen her. As for Jim, he knew no love nor hope and that’d explained his depression and anger. Perhaps there was love from me, just right in front of him but hardship and life just seems to be in the way of my sway.
Noon came but things weren’t any good but at least the boy that was staring at us from the other side of the street was gone. At evening, the boy that was gazing at us earlier walked towards us. He had a satchel in one hand and the other was in his pocket. He stopped right in front of us with his gaze upon me and Jim. His face was as blank as a wall and as stiff as an effigy; his pupils firm and fixed as if his mind was wandering else where but instead he gave you the feeling that he was looking right through you. Uncomfortable and not knowing what to do, I raised my hands, wrist by wrist towards him and from the bottom of my gut, I whispered “alms, sir.”
Completely ignoring what I have said, he crouched down and reached inside the bag. Thinking that there was food in the bag, Jim’s sore face blossomed into a big smile. Instead of taking out what Jim had expected, he took out a wooden sculpture of the statue of liberty, a pencil and pieces of paper. Sliding the sculpture to Jim’s feet and pushing the paper and pencil to me, he turned away without a word and he crossed the street.
Night came and for the first time, we weren’t breathless, frustrated or angered as it was a rather weird and unusual day, we didn’t know how to react or feel as it was the first time someone had gave us such an awkward gift. We stayed awake guessing of what the alms had signified. Jim had caressed and stroked the smooth surface of the sculpture numerous times and he couldn’t stop describing the fine edges and margins his fingers had came across. Jim’s heart and hands had been numbed for years and for the first time in so many years, he knew how it was like to feel again and he slept wishing that he’d wake up again.
As for me, the paper and pen reminded of the only being that showed me love. That night, guided from within, of words I never knew I grasped, I started to write. For once in years, I was able to express my emotions calmly and peacefully on a peace of paper, rather than banging wildly on everything that’s in my path. Smiling as I recite what I’ve written but what was the significance of these two things and how would a stranger know so much about two beggars in the corner?
The next day, we woke up fresh and anew but we didn’t know why. Perhaps there was a reason to struggle and survive now as we have found comfort in things. Leaving the sculptures and papers in the safety of the alley, we march towards the light. We sat in the same corner, our luck unchanged but we didn’t mind at all as we knew that there’s always something edible in the dumps and there will always be those that wastes.
All at once, the stranger that we had met yesterday came out of ‘our’ alley and he walked right across our faces. Moments later, he came with another satchel. This time he took out a dictionary and a lumber with a knife stuck on the top of it; we thanked him for the things he had gave us but he didn’t seem to care at all as he had turned his back and blended into the crowd before we could finish what we wanted to say.
Days later, he came at dawn right after we came out of the alley. Ignoring us, he walked into our alley, moments later he came out with tears in his cloth and pants. Again he crouched before us but this time his hands reached out towards us. Instead of reaching for a handshake, he reached to our faces, taking away the patches of smudges and smears from our faces and he rubbed them all over his body and he looked just like us. He then sat beside us as if he was one of us or he had became one of us but why’d someone as wealthy as him do something like that?
Stunted, surprised and bewildered, I asked “What are you doing?”.
“Alms”, he moaned with even cadence and he’d do that every time a question or conversation was directed at him. Despite the fact that he had repeated the phrase alms over and over again, he didn’t even beg a single being that was in his way. He just sat there, toying his blond fringe that had dropped over his smudged temple. As twilight drew nearer, the stampede of marching people abated, we receded into the alley together with the blond boy.
We offered him rotten apples but he ignored our generosity and hospitality. Midnight came and he spoke.
“Affy David, sixteen, a year younger than you, who are you?” he spoke facing to me but his pupils were whirling in every possible direction. His statement woke me up, now overwhelmed by awe that a stranger could’ve even know my age.
“How’d your know?!” with haste, the words found their way out of my lips before I knew what’d happened.
“Alms” he mumbled and continued “who are you?”. It was awkward that someone who knew my age wouldn’t know my name; nonetheless, I answered his question.
“Ken and Jim’s over there”
“You’ve been writing” his fore finger gestured to the pile of crates where there were scattered bits and chucks of wood on top of it “and he’s been crafting, is it not?”. Under the midnight’s moon, David’s hair was as black as the skies and he was brimming with energy and vitality. His blue eyes were wide open, watching me through the slits and gaps between the hairs that fell over his sight. It was as if the slits and gaps had sharpened his eyes as there was an overwhelming intensity in his gaze; it wasn’t fear or anxiety, perhaps it was the feeling of insecurity as there was someone watching every flex and movement I’d make. Unable to break the intensity, my eyes turned to the ground.
“Yes but how’d you know that I knew how to write and he’d knew how to craft” I asked.
“You talk a lot whilst he is persistent” he whispered without a doubt in his voice and I recalled of the first time I noticed his gaze, he wasn’t staring in despise or abhorrence, he was studying us but why would anyone pay such attention on us? That day, David watched me calm Jim with my voice and he too saw Jim back to his feet after the brutal blow from the fat man.
“Why are you even with us when you are wealthy.” I said sarcastically as I recall of the first judgment I had on him.
“I’ve no parents, they’ve died”. Touching his neck that were full of smudge, he then showed me his hand and said “am I not the same as you are?” There was anger in him as he had raised his voice and widened his eyes. “As wretched, homeless, pathetic and---”, he paused and blinked; for an instance, there was an expression on his face. His lips ajar and his pupils were pointing straight down, he’d revealed how vulnerable, weak and sensitive he was but that was only for an instance. Right after that, his gravely and fearless expression returned and he continued “no, just the alms.”. All I get for answers for the next few question I’ve asked were alms, alms and alms and our conversation ended.
There was a voice in the night that woke me up.
“Sitting under the veranda in this night,
Quench of fire and the night star dies,
My humble questions “where is my knight,
Empty promises, I beg of you, no more lies.””. Realizing the familiarity of the lines, I woke from my rest and found one of the poems I’ve written on the hands of Affy David. With agile hands, I snatched it right out of his hands easily; he did not resist at all, it was as if he knew what would happen.
“Who taught you to write?” he asked innocently as if nothing had happen at all.
“Alms.” I replied annoyingly. Instead of showing frustration, the sides of his pale lips jerked into a smile as sly and cunning as a wolf.
“Goodnight” he said as he turned away with that smile fresh on his face. Ignoring him, I grabbed every script I’ve written and slept clutching them at my chest near to my heart.
Dawn came and there was a vehicle at the end of the alley; Affy David stood before me, laying on the wall with his hands crossed on his chest.
“Who taught you to read and write” he asked as if it was very important to him.
“A woman” I grumbled as I stretch my sore bones. He laughed in amusement as I stared at him with intense curiosity.
“A woman, it was Joan Susan that taught you to read and write.”, taking up the same script that he was reading in the mist of my sleep earlier, he continued “no wonder she had such an interest in you”, saying that, he laid the script on the ground before me. He continued without giving me space to question his knowledge of the woman’s identity.
“Do you remember that?” he gestured to the vehicle that was parked at the end of the alley. I scratched the back of my head and gave him a shrug of shoulders and a shook of head.
“I remember sitting in that seat”, he pointed to the vehicle as a chauffer came and opened one of the door of the vehicle and he continued. “I watched dad swept you aside with ease as he pulled mom by her wrist, taking her away from you back to me, she was selfish and pathetic to love a beggar and not her only son. That was what I had regarded that incident until her funeral came. I recalled how she had struggle releasing herself from dad’s grip; her other hand was reaching out to you as she screeched your name and the tears she had on her eyes as she was reaching out were just the beginning of her pain when she left you”. A shiver ran down my spine as memories of that day rushed into my mind. I stared at the air as I sorted the memories.
“So you remember”, that wicked smile flashed across his face once more and he continued “mom never did love me, for I’ve resembled too much of dad but she loved you and personally I like you too.”, he finished his speech with a falling tone as if he had doubted what he had said. Even though the truth had been right there in front of me, I still struggled put the pieces together. I didn’t really believe him when he said that it was his mom that had taught me but he had described so clearly about the incident that I have forgotten.
“Everything is ready, follow me” he turned and walked away. I wanted to asked of Jim’s opinion but he was no where to be found. At last, I found Jim, he was standing by the car, waving with a smile and a box of doughnut at his hand. There were doubts when I decided to take that ride but me and Jim had once vowed that we’d be together in whatever we do and wherever we go as we were friends; perhaps that was the reason I had taken that ride that day. There were many reasons as there were doubts and fears on that day but years after that day, only have I realized that it was a ride that had changed my life.
After years of acquaintance with David, we drew closer to the other and one day he explained everything. Affy David’s mother went crazy and killed herself as David’s dad had forbade her from going out and she always kept at home together with David after the incident where she was taken away from me. David’s father had always blame himself for the death of his wife and so he numbed his guilt, sorrows and regrets with drugs and alcohol and he died. David had always loved his mom but his mom had never loved him as she was forced to marry David’s father in her early days. David’s father owned a gold mine and coal mine and David inherited everything in his death. With everything he had, David fulfilled the wishes of his mom as she had lived an unfinished life. In two years, he made Jim a master craftsman and me, an author of many things and for the decades to come we were friends. Perhaps it was because we were related by the love of a teacher, woman, mother and Jim just seemed to be caught in the web of David’s plans but nonetheless, close friends we were and we’ll be.
5/9/08
Tuition homework: describe 2 or 3 of your closest friends
