I need to get this off my mind...it's not really move-related, only a little.
Remember when I was working on that green Metro to sell? I was looking for a transmission for it because the one in it was not working right. I put an ad up...3 days later, an e-mail arrived from a gal who had a friend with a Metro who was interested in selling parts off of it and gave me his location. So I drove over to meet her friend one warm end-of-September day...
When I arrived, it was a sad sight: the friend was living in his Metro in a vacant lot, along with a few other folks there. We made contact, we talked: he was getting together money to go back home and would sell me his transmission out of his car. It ran but the driver's side drive axle was exploded in a bad way. He then also said there was a title loan on the car, a red flag; I explained to him that we could both get into trouble if he sold me the transmission, himself more so. So I offered to return in two days with another drive axle so the car would at least move outta there if he needed to.
The young man, David (not his real name), was 35, tallish, lean and scrappy-looking...and also very quiet-spoken, unsure of his wording, introverted. He communicated well enough but I had to ask him to speak up a little more, and frequently...which he did. He seemed frustrated at himself for not being able to keep that up. He clearly did not belong on the streets--nobody does, really, but this guy was clearly at deep risk.
Two days later, I returned with the axle to David's lot. The sight that greeted me made my jaw drop: David was standing in front of his Metro with blood dripping from his right wrist & hand. Both doors of his Metro were almost hanging, their tops yanked away from the body, no longer able to close. A big hole was in the left rear window...which explained the blood. He was standing there, crying, so without a word I guided him to a concrete block to sit on, which he did. All I could say was "Take all the time you need, I won't say anything"...and watch him.
After a few minutes, he regained some composure and began talking: someone lured him up from Dallas with the typical online promises...and dropped him cold. He wanted to get back home, was trying to raise money, couldn't get a job, was too proud to beg or steal. Ya can't take that from a guy...but what was on his heart was that he had a 13-year-old son there in Dallas he wanted to get back to. He had tried and tried...and wasn't getting anywhere. It all came out and he took it out on the car, now totalled.
Another homeless guy, Bryce (not his real name), came up and said "We've been trying to get him home. We can't get the money. He don't belong here". So after the tears were over, the blood cleaned up and the hand bandaged, I asked David "When was the last time you ate?" and he shrugged. We got him pizza and a pack of cigs, then he felt better. We drove around in my car awhile, too: he was formulating a plan, trying to put his brain cells together to get something going. I could see it. We all spent a few hours together, thinking, planning...seemingly drawing up blanks. But I had to go so I asked David if there was anything he needed before I left: he said no, so I left, told him I'd be back in a couple or few days.
I used that time to think, after I sold the green Metro and got money for it. It was a good payday, better than I expected. And so, 3 days later, I returned to the vacant lot after sunset, where Bryce was sweeping up. It was starting to get quite chilly and damp at night now in the Treasure Valley. Together, we awoke David, who came out sluggishly, wiped the sleep out of his eyes, composed himself. It was then I made the proposal...
"David, I've been thinking: you've impressed everyone here in this lot, they really care about you. They know what you're going through, they're trying to help you and it isn't easy. You have a son back in Dallas and that's worth fighting to get to. I know you want that...badly. I know you're also a proud man but listen and think about what I'm gonna say...seriously think it over.
"If you had the way to get back to Dallas and be with your boy, no strings attached, nothing taken or expected from you...would you do it? Remember, I know you're proud and I respect that, but sometimes pride only goes so far." David shifted uneasily on the picnic table. "Are you worried about paying back? You're proud, fine. But I don't want anything in return. At all. I just sold my green Metro, got some money. I can get you a plane ticket out of here, back to Dallas. All I need you to do is say you will or not...but if you do this, you're committed...do you understand?"
Bryce spoke up: "David, take it. Go back to your son. We love you but this ain't no place for you...you can't make it out here. You got family and your boy in Dallas. You've got something. Go..." I gulped...
That stunned me: I've interacted with homeless groups before and if there's one clear thing, they're all fiercely proud, very together. Tribe-like. They don't like hand-outs and they'll get aggressive if you persist. This was stunningly different.
David was silent, his gears were turning. I offered to return in two days to let him consider it and went home. Two nights later, it was a downright cold, damp night when I returned to David's place and asked if he'd made a decision. To my pleasant surprise, it was "Okay". And within 15 minutes, I had a flight booked up for him that went from Boise to Seattle for a layover...then directly to Dallas. And we sat, had some McD's, talked...David was still rather bereft, the street had taken so much joy out of him. But you could sense he was happy enough. I told David & Bryce I'd be back in a few days with face masks for the flight and to take David around to get anything else he needed for the trip home. We waved, I drove off into another cold night.
Deep in my mind on the freeway back to Boise, it occurred: there are stories of others who tried to help people in disadvantaged situations to get out of them...only for the other to either change their minds and deny the help at the Moment of Truth...or to simply wander off. I'd asked Bryce in-private if he could keep David together and present...he said he would, firmly, so there was that. We even shook on it. But still...it wasn't the loss of money from a non-refundable ticket that worried me at all. It was the loss of an opportunity out of despair. Pride? Any number of factors. But I held out hope for David, he seemed like such an earnest soul. You could sense it.
Some time passed and two days ago, I went back out to deliver David's masks, to psych him up for the trip, get him all prepared. His car was empty. But I remembered that this was just before the time everyone arrived back from their rounds at the various churches, missions, shelters and so on. And it'd rained, adding a cutting chill to the night air. That's when you wonder about your new friends' well-being, if they're warm and clothed well enough. Before long, Bryce returned, sauntering slowly, twirling his broom like a baton, as usual, in the damp night.
"Bryce!"
He waved, uttered a gutsy "Eh?"
"Hey, have ya seen David?" I asked as he drew nearer.
"Yeah, but he's gone."
My heart sank. "Wha...??? What happened?"
At about that time, a store clerk on break came over, chatted in. He knew all the guys here. "You're the guy who got Dave his ticket?" I nodded.
Between puffs off his cigarette, the clerk said "Hey, look: you did okay. Day before yesterday, a guy drove in from Washington, looking for Dave. We were worried the guy was a fake but Dave said it was his brother, the guy even showed his ID. The last-names matched. He stayed with us for an hour or two, we talked, we felt good about it. They got in the truck and they were gone." I smiled a bit; not the patronizing, dry, unconvincing smile so many others do but a real one. David was not only safe but with family. They could take it from there.
"You lost money on the airline ticket," the clerk said, "that was tough."
"I don't mind," I told him, "it was a risk. Doesn't matter who or how, plans change. It was a cheap ticket anyway. What matters is that Dave's safe. His plans are coming together". Pause. "I think that's worth losing a little money over. I just wanted to say 'Good-bye' to him..."
The three of us stood there under a dim sodium lamp, talking, thinking, having a cig or two...quietly celebrating in our own way. Then I excused myself, told Bryce I'd drive on in every few days so we could talk before I left town. He was okay with that. And we went our separate ways.
Just a little while ago, Alaska Airlines Flight 277 arrived in Seattle with one less passenger: he was a few miles north, with his brother. Safe. Warm. Fed. Getting his life together. And in a little while, Alaska Flight 716 to Dallas will leave Seattle with one less passenger, too. And the streets have one less potential victim.
I'd say it was money well-risked.
...or "IDidn'tDoItNobodySawMeYouCan'tProveAThing!" 
