"To Help You I Must First Fall Down" Part 3

 “Where you studyin’ at?”

“University of Pennsylvania.”

“What year?”

“Huh?”

“What year are ya?”

“Oh- I graduate next year.”

“So you’re a junior?”

“Yes.”

We were sitting in the large common room of the church- a cold, drafty room with tile floors and a stage that had somehow transformed into more of a storage space. Tonight, it served as our dinning hall. Round tables had been rolled out from behind the stage curtains and set around the room. Stackable chairs were placed around each. There was never enough though, and some people were forced to sit on the small chairs from the kindergarten rooms and eat off their laps.

The Christians liked to spread out during dinner and try to strike up some conversation with their company for the night. Sometimes another local church would come and eat with us. When the church with the red door’s youth group stayed, they usually just sat there, smiling awkwardly, then exchanging giggles with their friend sitting in the seat next to them. What was there to talk about though? Neither of us was in a situation where we wanted to be. We didn’t want pity; they didn’t want to sympathize.

The special dinner guest tonight was Karin. When he slid into the chair across from mine at the table, I knew it was because I had sang along with his song (which I do not normally do in church), and I said a silent prayer of thanks to God.

The boy who sat next to him had not stopped firing questions in his direction ever since he sat down. He looked young- about nineteen or twenty. His hair was dark and greasy and he had horrible acne across his forehead. I noticed when he scooped up a mouthful of spaghetti onto his fork, that he had the date “7/3/07” tattooed across his wrist. I could see Karin’s eyes begin to wander around the room, looking for some escape from this boy’s petty questions. He wasn’t putting in an ostentatious effort to try and make friends with the rest of us at the table. He was only being himself.

            “I was supposed to go to Temple, but decided not to,” he continued. “I just didn’t really like the whole idea of this system. These colleges are machines, man. They just spit out this shit- forgive me Lord Jesus. It’s a habit. I at least try to stop when I’m in this church every night. You know these are good people, man. Trying to help us out and all. I chose this life, but it’s hard, man; damn hard. But I think I’m better off than I would have been if I went to that school.”

            Karin nodded and took a sip of his water. His eyes caught mine for a moment and quickly I looked back down at my empty plate. Even under the strong florescent lights of the room, his body was still such a paradox. His skin and his eyes, his voice and his appearance; he was deceiving. Even after all he had told this young boy, it was as if there was still so much he didn’t expose.

            “Do you live on campus?”

            By now I was beginning to get annoyed with his pestering. It was as if he was asking all the same questions and getting all the same answers.

            “No, I have an apartment nearby.”

            “By yourself?”

            “I share it with two other guys.”

            “Wow, roommates. That’s pretty sweet. I gotta tell ya, man, I give you a lot of credit for trustin’ people that much. That’s another reason why I chose to live on the streets here. I learned that you just can’t trust people all the time, even your friends. It’s just better to believe in ‘every man for himself’ and all that. People are just happier that way. We are selfish, man. We’re all just selfish. Isn’t that what Jesus said? You know to do to your neighbor what you want them to do to you? Man, I just want people to get off my back. I think that’s all that anyone ever wants.”

            Karin played with the end of his knife between his thumb and forefinger for a minute than set it down on the edge of his plate.

            “You know, I firmly believe that even Jesus would not have been able to make such an impact on the world without having friends who he could have faith in, and who returned it. Even the Judases,” he said in his hollow, breathy voice.

            Even the Judases.

            Then, he took the paper napkin off his lap, wiped his mouth, and crumbled it up on his plate, still half full of spaghetti and salad. The boy had opened his mouth to speak, his forefinger pointed at Karin’s head, but Karin stole the words right from his mouth.

            “I’m sorry but I have to go,” he said, standing up. “I have to catch the bus over to the other end of the city. And if I miss it, it’s a long walk back.”

            A few people around the table gave an “aw” and a sad little chuckle.

            “It was wonderful to meet you all. May God keep you safe and well. Goodbye.”

            We all wished him a good night, some more enthusiastic and audible than others. I watched him as he went over to the table where Polly sat, and tapped her on the shoulder to tell her he was leaving. Then he went over to the stage, shrugged into his coat, grabbed his guitar case, and pushed through the doors that led to the church foyer.

            Karin’s voice echoed in my mind, still retaining its intimate whisper. How different he was. How extraordinary. How unpredictable.

            Daylight had now begun to drain from the sky, leaving behind the empty canvas of black night. One by one, electric lights flickered on, illuminating the city, sending a bright haze into the open air. It was as if the streets had suddenly awakened with blinding bulbs- headlights, store lights, restaurant lights, streetlights, polychromatic flashing lights.

            The passing crowd gradually changed over from students and mothers with strollers to couples in fur coats and cashmere gloves. Occasionally, a group of teenagers would strut by, girls in high heels and long naked legs, boys in untucked oxfords, leaning against each other, walking in little bursts of shrieks and laughter.

            I knew I couldn’t sit here all night, but I didn’t exactly have a plan either. I couldn’t bring my feet to push myself off the concrete, so there I sat, embracing the pain, almost like I was testing myself to see just how far I could go.

            When I heard the door open and shut behind me, I didn’t bother to look and see who it was. Because whoever it was had come from in there, a place I knew that I was not allowed. I heard footsteps quickly jog down the steps, then stop with a little jump when hitting the sidewalk.

            At first, I couldn’t; even see the shape of the body. I heard the quick flick of a lighter, and a little flame suddenly broke through the dusk. The lighter was brought up close to the face, the tiny glow reflecting off a mass of wavy hair, thin threads the color of the moon.

            “Karin?”

            As soon as the name escaped my lips, I gasped, as if trying to suck the words back inside my mouth. I was delusional, exhausted- my survival instincts had taken over all sense.

            He turned to face me, an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth. The lighter went out.

            “…Sorry…what…?” he asked slowly, cautiously.

            Now my feet suddenly felt the need to move. I pushed myself up off the concrete and pulled my scarf off my head, letting it fall on my shoulders.

            “I’m-I’m sorry. It’s nothing really,” the words clumsily tumbled. “It’s just that I, I was at the church last night, you know when you sang and stuff, and I sat at your table for dinner, and you know you gave that advice to that boy…”

            He starred back. The white in his eyes glowed behind his black pupils.

            “I-I guess I just wanted to say that… you have a really pretty voice…and you said a really nice thing to that boy. That’s all.”

            But it wasn’t. I wanted so much more than just to give him a compliment.

            “Oh…oh, okay, well thank you.”

            He turned towards the street again, keeping his eyes down. He lit his cigarette then inhaled and exhaled slowly, sending a long stream of gray smoke to saunter lazily around his head in the cold air.

            “I didn’t know Christians smoke.”

            I heard him chuckle, still watching the cars go by. It sounded just like his voice when he sang, only lacking the passion, much more whimsical and causal. It was marvelous.

            “Smoking is not a sin. It may be a health hazard, but it’s completely self-inflicted. God doesn’t mind as much if we hurt ourselves., Only when we hurt other people,” he spoke in little bursts, like how the drunk kids walked by, stopping and starting, as if contemplating each string of words, then spitting them all out at once.

            Again, I was taken aback. Everything he said was said with such meaning. Every word was chosen with a purpose.

            We stood there in silence, each one not entirely sure what to do next. Karin continued to smoke his cigarette, shuffling his feet or shifting his weight every once in a while to keep warm. He looked at the traffic, I looked at him.

            A siren suddenly sounded, disturbing the consistent hum of the city life. An ambulence came speeding around a corner farther up the street and continued to fly down past where we were standing. Two police cars were right on its trail, red and blue lights flashing frantically. Karin and I both watched them drive by, our heads moving back and forth together. Karin crossed his arms, holding his cigarette between his fingers, his palm facing up near his mouth.

            “Wonder where their headed to…” he pondered aloud.

            “Maybe that will be you someday,” I suggested.

            He quickly turned his head towards my voice, as if he had forgotten my presence. I couldn’t quite make out his expression.

            “I mean, you would be the one driving, “I quickly corrected myself, “or one of the doctors that sits in the back and helps the person who’s hurt. You wouldn’t be the hurt person.”

            I saw his head slowly nod up and down, taking in another breathe of his cigarette.

            Again, we sat in silence.

            “I’m Cynthia,” I said, because there was nothing else to say.

            “’Pleasure,” Karin replied, quite quickly.

            He walked over to the nearest trashcan and stuck is cigarette butt in the ash trash that sat on top. He shuffled back over, hands in his pockets.

            Somewhere in the distance, over the hum of the rolling wheels on the pavement and the buzz of city nightlife, the sky released a deep, long shudder of thunder.

            Karin coughed into his elbow. It was so hollow and wispy it sounded more like an old man’s sickly wheeze. It took over his body, making him seem like he was barely there at all.

            “I should probably be heading home. Looks like it might rain soon,” he said looking up into the sky.

            I hugged my body in my large winter coat and leaned over so that my chest touched my knees on the step below where I was sitting.

            “Hmmnmmm.”

            Karin slowly meandered closer to the steps.

            “Any big plans for the weekend?”

            It must have been a Friday. Or maybe a Thursday.

            “Nahhhh. Nah I don’t really go out on the weekends,” I answered, avoiding his eyes.

            He nodded.

            “I know what you mean. I get so tired during the week that when Friday night rolls around, I just want to crawl into bed and not get out til Monday,” a little smile crossed his face, causing his teeth to glow through his parted lips.

It was like the idea excited him, of crawling into a warm cave of blankets and pillows, of giving your body over to sleep and endless rest. Of being safe in an apartment with windows and doors, pots and pans, a refrigerator, not having to worry about what you will do tomorrow, how you will eat, where the next bathroom is.

I tried to smile back.

“That sounds real nice,” I murmured.

“Where are you headed? I’ll walk you as far I can.”

            Where I was I headed? I, number seventy-seven, turned away from a bed and meal by the Christian guarding the door.

            “Just a few blocks down towards the station,” I lied.

            “I’ll follow your lead.”

            Silently, we began to walk. I walked in sort of a saunter, looking down at my feet, placing one foot across the other, wobbling back and forth. Karin had lit another cigarette and casually held it between his fingers, occasionally lifting it up to his lips to take a drag.

            “Do you want any?” he asked, offering me the burning stick.

            “No thanks.” This was instinctual. Not just because I had it ingrained into my brain by countless superiors that smoking was bad and eventually lethal, but also because I had become so accustomed to refusing to take anything from anyone. Even just one drag from a 10-cent American Spirit.

            We walked and we walked, either of us exactly sure of our destination. More couples and shoppers and students passed. And we were just part of the passing crowd.

            After a good fifteen minutes, we turned down a quiet side street. No one was in sight. A few dogs barked somewhere in the darkness. Karin turned and walked away towards a trashcan to squish his tiny cigarette butt.

            “What street are you staying on?”

            “Oh, its not that much farther,” I replied, avoiding his eyes.

            He walked back towards me, head down towards the pavement.

            Just say it. Just get it over and say it. The longer you wait, the bigger the hole, the harder it will be to climb out. Just ask.

            “If I ask you something, do you promise to answer with no questions asked?”           

            His head jerked up, surprised by my question. His thin lips were parted a little, so his white teeth glowed through the dark shadows cast down by the nearby streetlight. Somewhere in the distance, a taxi honked.

            “What do I get in return, for not asking any questions?”

            He looked serious.

            “Well, what do you want?”

            Karin ran his fingers through his hair and smirked.

            “Can I let you know later?”
            I felt a little smile lift up the corners of my mouth, such a rare gesture.

            “Fair enough.”

            The street was lined with mostly towering brownstones left over from past centuries with English ivy climbing up towards the upper floors. They all had big brick steps leading up to the front door with black ivory railings. Karin walked over to one of the houses now and sat down on the lowest step. He put his elbows on his knees, but his legs were so long he looked quite uncomfortable.

            “Shoot.”

            Without hesitation, I slowly and clearly pronounced,

            “Can I stay with you tonight?”

            Karin looked up at me; lips parted again, a lock of hair falling over into his face. What did he see? A girl in tattered clothes and knotted, greasy hair, probably smelling like subway smoke and dumpster. Could he finally put the pieces together? Could he see that I was homeless?

            But his eyes were so dark, so opaque, I could not look inside. They just stared, black holes, sucking me in with them to the point where I could not think. I felt like I was drowning.

            Say something.

            I tried to force a smile, somehow break the frightening trance.

            “You promised no questions, remember?”

            Slowly, his eyes seemed to release me, like he was progressively coming out of his inside thoughts and back onto the city street, loosening his angry grip.

            “I didn’t ask any.”