JC: Harry and Dante Chapter 2

Posted: May 04, 2006 - 10:55:49 pm

Dante headed over to the fire pit and started to sit down on a cinder

block. One of the other men said, "Don't sit there. If Jewels sees you

on his chair, he'll hurt you."

"Oh." Dante moved to a different spot and started to sit down.

"Don't sit there. You don't sit on other peoples places," the same man said.

Looking around at the collection of cinderblocks and egg crates placed

haphazardly around the area, Dante asked, "So where can I sit?"

"Over on one of the railroad ties. That's the public seating."

Dante sat down on one of the railroad ties while wondering what kind of

world he had entered. He went over everything that had happened since

that first afternoon in his studio and tried to make sense of it. He was

lost in his thoughts went someone nudged him and said, "Hungry Man, he's

talking to you."

"Hungry Man?" Dante asked looking at a homeless man he didn't recognize.

"That's your name," the man said.

"I'm Dante."

"You're Hungry Man, the starvin' artist."

When William had said that he'd get a new name, he hadn't realized that

the young man was serious about it. Deciding that this was a battle he

couldn't win, he accepted the new name. Trying to look a lot more

confident than he felt, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay, I'm

Hungry Man. What do you want?"

From across the circle, Boy Scout asked, "So what are you doing here?"

"William hired me to make a statue of Happy Harry," Dante answered.

"So you are a real artist. That's interesting. I wonder if Harry knows

why you are here."

Starting to wonder the same thing, Dante said, "I assume he does."

The crowd of men chuckled at his statement. He said, "When it comes to

Happy Harry and Half Feather, don't assume anything."

"So who is Happy Harry?"

"You met him," Boy Scout answered looking across the circle at Dante

with amusement. He figured out that William hadn't told Hungry Man

anything about Harry and hadn't told Harry anything about Hungry Man.

Things were going to get interesting around camp the next morning.

Smiling, he said, "Well, you better get busy earning your dinner. How

are you at peeling potatoes?"

"Okay, I guess," Dante answered wondering why he needed to peel potatoes

to earn his dinner. He was supposed to be creating a statue of Happy Harry.

"Well, come along with me and I'll show you to the kitchen."

Dante followed the man to the food shack. It was a small place and

crowded, but everything necessary in a kitchen was there. Pointing to an

egg crate, Boy Scout said, "You can sit there while you're peeling the

potatoes. You look like you're a little shocked by everything. The

chance to sit here and think while you're peeling potatoes will do you a

world of good."

"Thanks. I'm kind of confused. This isn't what I expected," Dante said.

Boy Scout handed him a potato peeler. Noticing the man's hands were all

scarred up with huge calluses, he asked, "What happened to your hands?"

"I've been working in stone. It tends to eat up the hands a bit. You

bust loose little chips and sometimes they cut you. Holding the hammer

and chisel all day tends to produce calluses," Dante said looking down

at his hands. He was worried that he'd lost too much sensitivity in his

hands and wouldn't be able to feel the clay under his fingers. He

wondered if it was too late to back out of the commission.

"Oh. Better get to work on those potatoes. I hate undercooked potatoes

in my stew," Boy Scout said as he stepped out of the shack. He turned

back and watched as Dante picked up a potato and started to peel it. He

wondered why William had chosen him to make a statue of Harry. A second

thought occurred to him. He wondered why William wanted a statue of Harry.

While he worked, Dante decided that Boy Scout had been correct about one

thing. The chance to work on something as simple as peeling potatoes was

a good way to get his thoughts in order. He considered his life. Since

the day his girlfriend had announced that she was moving in with his

best friend, Dante had been alone. Hiding in his studio, he had thrown

himself into his work. The problem was that his work had been

uninspired. The pieces he produced were junk. Something essential was

missing in his work and he didn't know what it was.

One morning he had woken up and looked at a misshapen hunk of clay. He

had been preparing to make a mold of it in order to cast it. It was

trash and he knew it. He had realized that he had lost it. Searching for

some other direction to pursue in his artistic quest, he had selected

stone. After two years of effort, he hadn't created a single piece that

he was willing to show anyone. Frowning, he decided that he had learned

one important fact. He wasn't any good in stone.

When he reached the last potato, he didn't want to leave the privacy of

the food shack. After peeling it, he started to carve it with the potato

peeler. The only face that came to mind was that of Boy Scout. Idly, he

worked over the potato while his thoughts were still on his life

situation. He decided that he was a fraud and that he should give the

check back to William. For him to waste such an opportunity while

another artist could do a better job just didn't seem right to him.

Finished with the carving, he looked at it. The features of the homeless

man had been captured in the potato, but something was missing. It was a

representation of the man, but it was lifeless. Even worse, it was ugly.

Shrugging his shoulders, he said, "It's just a potato."

Boy Scout came into the food shack and said, "I hope you're done. Jester

Bob here needs to peel some carrots for the stew."

Dante stood and put the last potato in the pot of water. Boy Scout

noticed the unusually shaped potato. He picked it out of the water and

looked at it. After a minute, he said, "Nice likeness of me. Of course

the expression looks like someone just stuck a carrot up my ass."

Jester Bob grinned and said, "Now you did it. I'm going to be sitting

here peeling carrots, with a hard-on, while imagining a carrot stuck up

my ass."

"Jester Bob, you are almost as bad as Merv the Perv," Boy Scout said

with a chuckle.

Dante looked over at the potato and considered the comment about it. The

criticism had an element of truth about it; he had caught the wrong

moment of time in it. Thinking further, he realized that he hadn't

caught a single moment of time, but a series of moments for different

parts of it. The result had been a hodge-podge of different expressions

shoved together.

Shaking his head, he left the shack and returned to the railroad tie. He

sat down and looked at the men around him. He realized that he wasn't

seeing with his artist's eye. He'd been seeing the superficial features

of the people around him. It was as if he was shying away from seeing

too deeply into the world around him. Had the loss of his girlfriend and

best friend stolen his ability to look beyond the surface? Was he afraid

of what he'd learn if he looked too deeply into the soul of his subject?

The questions sent chills down his spine.

He tried to remember the features of Lady Lucy. To his shock and dismay,

he realized that he just had a general impression of her. All he'd

noticed was her skin, her hair, her eyes, and the scars on her face. He

couldn't recall the shape of her face, the line of her nose, or her

lips. He knew she had ears, but couldn't recall even looking at them. He

couldn't say what kind of smile she had or how she looked when laughing.

He did recall that she had laughed a lot.

He looked at the men and women moving around the homeless hotel. Each

was unique in appearance. Some were tall and lanky. Others were short

and squatty. A few were fat, but even they were different in how they

were fat. There were people who were large all over while others had pot

bellies. Some moved with grace while one fellow with a twisted spine

moved in a rough rolling gait that was painful to watch.

There were all different kinds of noses; some were bulbous while others

were thin. The faces were fat, thin, square, and round. Sprinkled onto

the canvas of the face were moles, freckles, wrinkles, scars, and

defects. Together, all of those things gave each person a unique face.

He tried to remember the Walt Whitman poem, but all he could remember

was the first line, "I sing the body electric." He recalled that it was

a celebration of the human body, but couldn't remember the details. He

remembered studying anatomy in art school. It had been a dry subject

without the kind of passion expressed in the Whitman poem. He wondered

if he had ever had that kind of passion about his subjects.

It was hours later when Boy Scout announced, "Come and get it."

Dante stood in line behind a dozen other men. More men lined up behind

him. One at a time they received a bowl of stew, a slice of bread, and

an apple. The portions were generous. The stew was good, but the bread

was a little stale. Turning to a guy seated next to him, he asked,

"Why's the bread stale?"

"We get two day old bread here. In some of the richer areas, they get

day old bread. This is a poor neighborhood. The folks will buy day old

bread to save a little money so we get the two day old bread. We really

can't complain, much. At least we get bread," the man answered. He went

back to eating his stew.

"You mean we buy two day old bread?"

"Buy? No, the stores donate it to us," another man said. He pointed into

the stew with his spoon and said, "They give us the meat on the day it

expires. If they didn't give it to us, they'd have to throw it out the

next day. Of course, it's still good. We even get stew made with steak

rather than stew meat."

Dante stared at the bowl of stew trying to decide what that meant in

terms of freshness. Since he never checked the expiration dates on the

food he bought, he decided that he'd probably been eating lots of meat

that he had purchased on the day it expired. He dug in and ate the rest

of the stew. It tasted good.

He asked, "What's for breakfast?"

"Day old donuts, bagels, or fruits. It'll be your choice which one you

get," the man said. He turned to study Dante for a minute before he

said, "I'm Rocket Man. What's your handle?"

"They've been calling me Hungry Man," Dante answered with a shrug.

"Ah, you're the starving artist. I heard this is your first day on the

streets," Rocket Man said.

"Why are you called Rocket Man?" Dante asked.

"I was a janitor at NASA before the booze cost me my job. It was a pity

too. It was the best job I ever had."

"So who are the rest of these guys?"

Pointing to the food shack, Rocket Man answered, "You've met Boy Scout.

He was an Eagle Scout before he discovered crack back in the day when it

was common. I imagine that he'll be moving back into society before

long. The Fusion Foundation will help him get a management position in

some small company somewhere.

"No one has ever seen Grumpy over there smile despite the fact that he

travels around with Jester Bob. I've never understood why they travel

together. Why would a man travel with one of the funniest guys in the

world if he doesn't know how to laugh?"

"Maybe it is to keep from crying," Dante said wishing that he had a

Jester Bob in his life.

"I hadn't thought about it like that," Rocket Man said. He pointed to a

man who was seated in a lawn chair and said, "That man nodding off over

there is The Speedster. I swear he has to be the laziest man alive. You

might have noticed that he didn't even go over to get his own bowl of

stew. He claims it is a medical condition.

"The fellow sitting next to him is Cracker Jack; he was dishonorably

discharged from the British Navy."

At hearing that the man was dishonorably discharged, Dante asked, "What

did he do?"

"Not sure what he did; he's never told us his story. You're lucky to

meet him when he's sober. When he drinks, he's the meanest drunk I've

ever encountered. When he gets drunk, we tie him up for the night for

our own protection."

"Wouldn't it be better if he was sent to jail?" Dante asked. He didn't

like the idea of people tying up another person. There were laws about

those kinds of things.

"Oh, he doesn't drink all that often. Lock up isn't really a solution.

He'd just get out after a while and get in even worse trouble the next

time. If we can keep him under control on those infrequent occasions

when he drinks, then it is all for the best," Rocket Man shrugged and

added, "Harry thinks we should look out for each other. I guess that is

all part of it."

A well dressed young man sat down on the cinderblock Dante had attempted

to sit on earlier. He had a bunch of gold chains around his neck, rings

on his fingers, and earrings with semi-precious stones. Curious to see

so many things of real dollar value on a person in the Homeless Hotel,

he pointed in the direction of the guy and asked, "Is that Jewels?"

"Yeah. That's Jewels. He sells blowjobs down on the strip to get money.

He uses the money to buy gold chains and jewelry. He'll get rolled by a

group of faggot bashers and lose it all. After that happens, he'll move

to another town and start all over again. He's a tough little bastard,

though."

"Faggot bashers?"

"Faggot bashers are a bunch of kids who think it is fun to go out and

beat up boys who like boys. Half of the time, they are actually closet

queens trying to show how manly they are. The closet queens are the ones

that you have to worry about."

"So Jewels is gay." "Gay doesn't really describe Jewels. He'll sleep

with anything, boy or girl, young or old. Hell, I imagine he'd even have

sex with a goat. I don't think it is really a sexual thing at all."

"Why does he do it?" Dante knew that a lot of individuals who hung

around with artists were bisexual, but that it was often a lifestyle

decision that had very little to do with real desire. Occasionally

sleeping with someone of the same sex was one way that pseudo-artists

tried to demonstrate their artistic nature. He always found those

individuals rather shallow. There were some who definitely liked their

own gender. He didn't know what to think about it, though.

"Hang around and you'll hear the tale from his own lips," Rocket Man

said. He didn't like to tell other people's stories. Shaking his head,

he said, "You stay around here long enough, you'll hear enough stories

to last a lifetime."

It started to get dark and Boy Scout started a fire in the fire pit.

More men wandered into the Homeless Hotel. Most sat down on the railroad

ties while a few sat down on cinder blocks or egg crates. Once the fire

was going, one of the men said, "Half Feather and Lucy Diamonds were

here today."

"You don't say. What does she look like?" Jewels asked.

"She's the cutest little lady you'd ever want to see. I got her a cup of

coffee. Hard to imagine, but she said please and thank you. She's a real

lady," the man answered. He was silent for a moment and then added, "She

hugged me before they left."

Dante turned to Rocket Man and asked, "What's with how people talk about

Happy Harry, Half Feather, and Lucy Diamonds? You'd think they are

royalty or something."

"Happy Harry says that everyone is as valuable as anyone else. That's

not exactly true though. Happy Harry is probably one of the most special

people in the world. He's the one who set up all of these Homeless

Hotels. He helps us out when we need it. He's a Druid and the Goddess

has truly blessed him. She blessed us through him. We're nothing

compared to him."

"Druids are important people, but what about Half Feather?"

"Half Feather was just eight years old when he started traveling around

with Harry. The young man is special in the same way as Harry. He might

not be a Druid, but the Gods and Goddesses have touched him. Most people

flinch when one of us puts a hand on them. Half Feather has never had

that problem. He accepts us, he helps us, and I really believe that he

cares for us. You don't know how important that is.

"We can't do much for people like Harry and Half Feather, but we can try

to protect them from folks who mean them harm. When Half Feather

declared that Lucy Diamonds was his one true love, we pledged that we'd

protect her so that Half Feather wouldn't lose her.

"Bottle Cap made that promise on our behalf, but that was before we got

to know her. Even if she wasn't the one true love of Half Feather, we'd

have promised to protect her. She's just as good of a person as Half

Feather. She looks you in the eye like you are an equal. She'll help

clean you up when you've been sick from the drink. She'll feed you and

take care of you when you've got a real problem. She's a saint."

Dante had seen how Lucy treated Lady Lucy. There wasn't even a hint of

hesitation in talking to, touching, or hugging the bag lady. It sounded

to him like the man knew Lucy Diamonds. He asked, "So you've met her

before?"

"Never saw her, but I've heard all about her," Rocket Man answered. With

homeless men traveling around the country, stories about good and bad

people traveled with them. The exceptional people became known across

the entire country. The homeless person who hurt one of the special

people could count their life span in minutes.

"So I guess Half Feather and Lucy Diamonds are unique."

"No. There are others who are just as special. There's the Chicago

Angel, the Miami Knight, the Duke and Duchess of Dallas, and the Seattle

Saint."

"You've met them?"

"I went to the wedding of the Chicago Angel. She was really lovely that

afternoon. I have to admit that I cried like a baby when she said, 'I

do.' She'd just gotten her new knees and could actually walk up to where

the ceremony was being held," Rocket Man said shaking his head while

losing himself in his memories.

"There's a whole world that I know nothing about," Dante said. He

listened to the men tell their stories. It didn't take long for him to

figure out that they were sharing news of things that were happening

across the country. There were stories about events in Los Angeles and a

gang that had been harassing the homeless. There was a story about a

person who was killing prostitutes in Memphis. They hadn't caught the

man yet, but people were looking for him.

Dante was learning more about what was happening across the country than

he could learn by listening to the news on television. He was hearing

eye witness accounts from folks the reporters would never put on

television. A few accounts of events were first hand, but most were

second hand.

A man wandered over to the fire carrying an egg crate. Putting it down

on the ground near the fire, he sat down and looked around at the faces.

He cleared his throat and said, "Hello everyone. I'm Lucky Eddie and I

just got in from Dallas. I've got news."

The announcement caused a bit of a stir. Jewels asked, "How's the Duke?"

The man said, "He's doing fine. His wife, the Duchess, had a baby girl

yesterday morning. I heard about it just as I was leaving town."

Dante watched in shock as men settled bets. He couldn't believe they'd

bet on the gender of baby born across the country. Boy Scout said, "I

bet they named her Amy."

"Amelia," Lucky Eddie said.

"Makes sense," Boy Scout said nodding his head. Everyone else nodded

their heads in agreement.

Dante leaned over to Rocket Man and asked, "Why does it make sense?"

"The Chicago Angel found the Duchess after she'd been raped. She took

her in and helped her out. She actually kept the Duchess in her own home

until she was strong enough to get around on her own. Harry introduced

the Duke to the Duchess and the rest was history. They cleaned

themselves up, got real jobs, and finally opened their own restaurant.

They never forgot their origins. They've been taking care of the

homeless in Dallas for five years now. They feed hundreds of us every

holiday. They organize food drives. They give people who are ready to

get back into society jobs and work experience."

"So why did they name the girl Amelia?"

"Ah, the real name of the Chicago Angel is Amy," Rocket Man answered.

"Oh," Dante said. He was quiet for a minute and then asked, "Don't you

guys have anything better to do than gossip?"

Rocket Man laughed at the question. He answered, "What else do we have

to do except gossip?"

The fire burned down and men wandered off to bed. Dante wasn't tired, so

he stayed where he was. When it was just him and Boy Scout around the

fire, Boy Scout said, "You might want to head off to bed. Morning comes

early around here."

"Where's Harry?"

"He's off with Lady Lucy, but he'll be back before breakfast time. What?

Are you afraid that he went off without you?"

"Yes."

"The Roach Coach is still here. Even if it wasn't, you wouldn't need to

worry. If Half Feather asked Happy Harry to take you with him, then he

won't leave you behind."

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Telling me that I didn't need to worry," Dante said.

Boy Scout shrugged his shoulders and headed to the storage shack. He

slept in it so that he could hand out blankets if anyone showed up late.

It was also a lot more comfortable than a section of sewer pipe.

Dante got up and headed to the section of sewer pipe in which he was

supposed to sleep that night. The sound of snores echoing through the

night made it easy to find the bank of sewer pipes despite the dark. His

bed was on the second row and third from the end. The blanket was where

he had left it at the opening.

He climbed in, hitting his head in the process. The wooden platform was

hard, but it kept his body off the cold cement. He covered his body with

the woolen blanket, hitting his head a second time when he tried sitting

up to adjust the blanket around his feet. He laid on his back staring at

the concrete above him. He sighed and said, "It's going to be a long night."