The Thief

“I hate to see little ones out here.” She said.

I tightened the blanket around Jamie, crawled out of the tent, and accepted the steaming cup she offered. The woman, perched on a tree stump, wrapped in a multicolored shawl with black fringe, sipped from an aluminum cup. She nodded at the makeshift seat next to her. It was a bench someone had found and repaired with raw wood. It looked sturdy enough. I sat. Next to her stump was a hovel built of discarded cloth, cardboard, and pieces of weathered plywood. Someone attached the bench to a large oak tree. A substantial dwelling for a homeless camp in a clump of woods behind an industrial park.

The air was Florida cold. There was a damp fog settled in the trees.

An old car wheel held a small fire with a rock holding the coffee pot just above the flame.

“Thanks.” I took a sip of strong black coffee. “Been here long?”

“Name’s Shirley. This here’s my winter digs. Like Florida when it’s cold up home.” She nodded at her domicile. “Good pickin’s this year at construction dumps.”

“You build this every winter? Amazing.”

“Easy after a few tries. Use whatever I can scrounge. What’s your story? Why you here with that child?”

I turned to check on Jamie. I could see inside the flap. He was a mound, rolled in blankets. Last month, he had turned four. Homeless for half his life.

“You know how it is. His father wouldn’t own up. I’d slept around some, but I knew who my baby’s father was! Lookin’ back, I figure he was married; never took me to his place. We argued about the baby. He wanted me to get rid of it, turned mean when I said no. Threatened to kill us both if I told anyone. I split.”

“Better off without a bastard like that.”

“Didn’t think so at first, but we survived. Couldn’t hold down my dancing job once I got fat. Lived at a church shelter. One where they take in pregnant women got no place to go. I found work after Jaime came.”

“You got no folks?”

“Moms homeless. Never knew my dad. She moves around. Stays with friends or men she picks up for as long as it lasts. Drinks too much. Sometimes her men looked at me after she passed out. It was just me then. I could outrun them.”

“What about learnin? Ever go to school?”

“When I was little. Once, we had an apartment. I went to school, Mom cleaned houses. After she lost that job, we lived in her car for a while. Another time she worked at a restaurant, doing dishes, mopping up after hours. Boss let us live above the kitchen. I went to school, even finished sixth grade. But Mom’s drinking… Lost that job. Welfare check don’t cover rent around here or booze. So, we were back on the street.”

“That’s a rough way for a kid to live.” She sounded like she’d been there.

“I had friends. Lots of street people are nice. Someone told me about a job where I could dance. I lied about my age. I’d always looked older than my age. Job paid cash, no questions. I was good, too. But, I got pregnant. Mom wanted me to get rid of it so I could keep earning. I wouldn’t. Told her I could handle both baby and work. She kept on me ‘til I took off. Just me and Jaime ever since.

Shirley’s gaze roamed her from head to foot. “You look pretty fresh. Someone keeping you?”

“Just got off a run at Citrus Motel. Some church people gave us three nights. I lied about having a paycheck coming next week and my mother coming to town.”

“Yeah, conning the do-gooders is part of the life. Easier with a kid. You must be good at it; else the law would take that boy.”

I didn’t comment. It was a fact all homeless mothers lived with. Keeping ahead of the law and the busybodies who wanted to save you by taking your kid and dumping them into a foster care system full of perverts. That would only happen to Jamie over my dead body. My mother taught me how to run and hide.

We drank in companionable silence for a few minutes, waved away mosquitos. The old woman stood up to add sticks to the fire.

“Listen, there’s a place two blocks north. Since you’re cleaned up, you could probably make some quick cash. I could watch the kid for a small percentage of your take. Just saying. It’s Saturday night, and that’s a workingman’s bar. I could front you a few bucks to sit and nurse a beer. Easy money,” she said.

I’d never hooked and wasn’t ready to start. Lots of homeless women did, but I still had a few bucks. I’d find work.

“No thanks, I got today’s paper. Could be a job in it.”

I scored a job the next day, washing dishes in a diner, first shift. The owner said her daughter, Betty, would watch Jamie if I went over to her place, helped clean up, and did some laundry. She had a new baby and a two-year-old boy. Needed help. Jamie liked her son. Betty was nice. I’d go early before my shift and feed both Jamie and Bryan while she nursed her daughter. Then, I’d clean the kid’s room, do laundry, and a few light chores in her pleasant little house. After work, I’d find the boys fed and playing in Bryan’s room. Jaime loved hanging out with Bryan.

That night, I thought about how our life had changed in the last few weeks. Jaime was overjoyed, and I had a satisfactory job. I applied at the housing authority, talked to a social worker, filled out the form, and got accepted. The woman put me on the expedited list for an apartment in one of their buildings. I almost had enough saved for the deposit. Got approved for food stamps, too. We still slept at the camp, but we had a future. Right around the corner. Almost off the street. Soon, we’d have a place of our own. Jamie could go to school.

Jamie got sick, coughed all night, feverish. Taking him to Betty’s and getting her kids sick was not an option. She was so kind to us that I requested Shirley to watch over him. It would only take twenty minutes to walk to the drug store, pick up children’s cough syrup, call work and Betty.

“Go to work. We’ll be fine. Can he take aspirin? I’ll give him a half with some chicken broth. No problem. Come in here, boy.”

“You sure?”

“Course, I think I can handle one small boy. I’ll keep him down. Tell him stories. Don’t worry. No reason to miss a shift.”

“Thanks. When I get back, I’ll pay for your time.”

Jamie’s warm hand held mine as we went into Shirley’s tent, and she invited him to lie down in the corner on a quilt. I kissed my precious child and tucked the quilt around him.

“You be a good boy Jamie, I’ll be back in four hours and if you’re still feeling bad, we’ll take a bus ride over to the clinic.”

“What about Betty and Bryan?”

“We don’t want Bryan or baby Lisa to get sick. I’ll call Betty from work. Maybe tomorrow we can go back to their house. Be a good boy. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye Mama.”

The sky was heavy with dark clouds when I returned. I checked Shirley’s place. Called out for her and for Jamie. The place was empty.

There was a guy named Jim, scruffy long stringy hair, dressed in dirty jeans and a long dark sweater. He stood next to a barrel fire, warming his hands.

“Hey, Jim. Did you see where Shirley went?”

“Who? Her? The one squatting there?” He pointed to the dwelling. “She called Judith.”

“Squatting?” I felt the first tendrils of fear deep inside. I’d been so busy telling her my story, I never asked where she came from, or who she knew.

“Not her place. Belongs to Big Jim. He’s in the VA hospital. Heard tell he was coming back tomorrow. She’s a squatter, don’t live here, spends most of her time in jail. Nobody messes with her. She’s a mean one.”

“Did you see her leave? She was watching my boy.” I felt my heart break when he answered.

“Nobody sees nothing here. Don’t know where she came from or where she went. Glad she’s gone.”

The skies opened. Mixed with my tears. I fell to my knees. The sound of a primal issued from my throat.

JAAMMIEE!!!