TOPIA “Promise only what you can deliver. Then
deliver more than you promise”
Author Unknown
It was terribly cold. My entire body was
shaking like jelly fish and I could feel my
back spasm with each shudder. I tried to lift
my head, and pain let off down my spine. I
lay back down and tried to open my eyes.
There was light, but not oppressive light.
Slowly, my focus returned, and I glanced
unknowingly at my surroundings. The light
was coming through an assembly of all
manners of flex banners of political office
aspirants and church events, cartons boxes
and rough planks surrounding me. I had a
torn green trampoline over me. I tried lifting
my shaking hands, but more pain shot
across my back.
The trampoline smelled foul, like the inside
of a wet sneaker or gym shoes and socks. I
raised my head enough to see the white
stains, obviously bird waste, speckling the
trampoline. I choked at the thought and
tried again to move. The pain was too much
so I collapsed on the hard surface making
my bed. I was lying, slightly inclined, on
carton sheets, pali. I suspected there was
unyielding concrete beneath them. My
shaking was getting worse. I was soaked
from head to toe, and the water was foul.
Maybe it was I who smelled so bad. The
bridge drifted back into my mind. The events
leading up to it and then, Dolapo.
Grief flooded back as the uncontrollable
shaking continued. I couldn’t even fall off a
bridge properly. It would be slow, but I was
going to freeze to death. I could feel my
fingers going numb and my lips weren’t
moving right. I closed my eyes; they say it
is just like falling asleep. Dolapo was there,
in my mind. Something was missing and I
couldn’t figure out what it was. My memory
wasn’t perfect. I knew it was her, but
something was off. It didn’t look quite right
and I struggled, shaking, to bring back the
perfect image and things got worse. I was
losing her. I hated myself that moment on.
I heard footsteps, walking through loose
gravels, echoed into my pali beddings. I
opened my eyes, and turned my head
toward the sound. The steps left the gravel
and became quieter as they hit a harder
surface. I realized this must be the person
who unsaved me.
A small section of the makeshift abode
made of pali was pulled away to reveal a
cloudy, dismal day. I could make out some
large concrete supports and the brownish
iron underlying a portion of the bridge. An
old man, his hair greying on both his face
and head, grinned at me. His teeth would
furnish a dentist with months of work and
make a fortune for Oral B tooth paste brand.
“You’re up,” he said with eyes brighter than
his weather-beaten face. “They call me
Fabio. I pulled you out of the water.” He
tossed a nylon pack into the tiny shanty and
it landed on my chest.
“You should have left me,” I ranted, not
realizing talking would be difficult. “This
province is mine and I am the mayor of the
province,” Fabio stated firmly, “you want to
die, go to the other side.” He used his head
to gesture along the bridge to the other
bank. “These are dry clothes. They ain’t the
finest,” he smiled again, “but they are dry. I
‘trago’ them on my way coming home so
they are sparkling clean.” He crawled into
the hovel and reclosed the opening. He
didn’t smell any better than I did. I tried to
sit up and a sharp pain put me back down.
“Just roll me back into the water,” I
groaned. Fabio laughed. It was a halting
laugh that didn’t speak well of his mental
state. “You missed most of the rocks, but
found a few. Fabio chuckled. “Bet you’re
real sore about now.”
That’s all I needed, some homeless guy
laughing at me about my failed suicide. I
took a few deep breaths and cried out as
my muscles protested. I forced myself to sit
up. The dirty trampoline fell forward onto my
lap and my upper body felt even colder. I sat
shivering, trying not to move much. My
lower back would have preferred I lay back
down.
“Give me your shirt,” Fabio demanded. I took
a couple of deep breaths, trying to give my
back time to get used to the new position.
It wasn’t fast enough for Fabio. “The shirt
or you leave. You have to go somewhere
else to die,” he said, while holding out his
dirty hand. I was in no condition to leave
and I guess he had a right to demand I
didn’t die in his home, as crappy as it was. I
tried to unbutton my shirt with my shaking
hands.
The mixture of the cold, and the shooting
pains as I moved my arms made it very slow
going. I couldn’t feel much in the tip of my
fingers which made it difficult to shove the
button back through the wet hole. Fabio
started laughing again. “Maybe you don’t
miss the rocks next time.” He barely got it
out before resuming his inappropriate
laughter.
“My fingers are too cold,” I stuttered
between shakes. “I’ll do it, but don’t have
ideas,” Fabio stated as he moved forward,
stinking like unkempt poultry farm. I tried to
give him my ‘are you out of your mind’ look.
I don’t think I fully managed it. He deftly
undid the buttons and quickly scooted back
again. It was agonizing pulling the wet shirt
off my shoulders. I must have really bruised
my back.
The air hit my wet skin sharply, and my
shuddering increased. Fabio quickly took the
wet shirt and handed me a dry one he had
liberated from the pile in my lap. It was only
an old t-shirt, but it was dry. Pulling it on
was another slow, agonizing process. Fabio
handed me a worn flimflam shirt that
buttoned down the front.
“Kari-kaka, I learned that my first year of
homelessness,” Fabio spouted proudly.
There was more pain putting my arms in the
arm holes. The shirt smelled clean. In truth,
it didn’t smell at all and that was clean from
where I was sitting. I was able to get the
shirt buttoned myself, much to Fabio’s relief,
who seemed overly concerned about his
virtue. The dry clothes started warming my
chest quickly. The shivering didn’t stop, but
the severity receded, and I had more control
over it.
“Now the trouser,” Fabio said, and quickly
stepped outside, “let me know when you’re
done.” I smirked, my lips working a bit
better, at his worries. Even if I was gay,
Fabio wasn’t my type. I laughed inwardly at
that thought. He was old and homeless and
had all the right in the world to be from the
roughest side of the street.
It took a long time to switch my trouser. My
lower back must have taken quite a hit and
the muscles were screaming. I more or less
scooted out of the pants since I was unable
to fully bend my legs. Fabio had brought a
pair of cotton exercise shorts and some old
stained jeans. I replaced my boxers with the
exercise shorts, almost screaming to get
them over my feet. The jeans were even
more difficult. I looked around and noticed
for the first time that my shoes were
missing. They were probably the same place
my socks were.
“Pa Fabio, where are my shoes?” I asked as
I rolled over onto my hands and knees. I
wasn’t sure I could stand up without passing
out. I certainly couldn’t stand up in the
hovel.
“I put them by the side to dry,” Fabio
answered, “they will dry soon.” I crawled to
the exit and poked my head out into the
grey day. I was housed under the bridge,
right where the supports met the land. My
shaking had stopped. It wasn’t terribly cold
now that I had dry clothes. Fabio looked
down at me. “The face cap is in there too,”
he said, pointing into the hut. I crawled back
and painfully.
“What’s your name, jumper?” Fabio asked
with a bit a sarcasm. I decided it was best
he didn’t know. I didn’t plan on staying, and
I didn’t really trust him. “Frank,” I answered.
It was the first name to come to me, my
father’s first name, though he was gone
before I was born. I subconsciously felt for
my phone and remembered it was at the
bottom of the river, along with my wallet. I
really wasn’t planning to need them
anymore.
“Why did you do it?” Fabio asked. I looked
up at him and saw the glint in his eye. I
could see he wasn’t really concerned about
me. He was more interested in the story. I
guess I was what passed for entertainment
under a bridge. “Are you owing a debt, killed
someone?” he continued. He gave me the
best lie, the one that said I owed a lot of
money.
“Debt, the economy is biting hard and I am
out of business” I lied. Fabio laughed his
crazy laugh.
“I’m always penniless,” Fabio said, “I don’t
need money so I don’t care if I don’t have
any. It’s you idiots that put worry in it.” I
chuckled at that. He was right in his own
way.
“You’re a wise man, Pa Fabio,” I praised, his
face lit up like a Christmas tree. I have no
idea why I found that pleasing. He’s an old
man who lives under a bridge. Why would I
care if he was happy? Nevertheless, his
dental disaster of a smile made me feel
good. I tried to stand and decided against it
when my back fought against it with pain.
“Lay flat,” Fabio instructed, “you might be
stuck here a day or two. I will take care of
you and then you owe me….that’s how it
works.” I slowly rolled over on to my back
and slowly straightened my legs. I smiled at
him. “What will I owe you?” I asked. I was
thinking in terms of cash.
“I don’t know yet!” Fabio snapped, “You
share what you get or do some jobs at my
command. Nothing more than what you get.
I’ll ask when I see it. We can’t live without
helping each other out here.” He was talking
to me like I was an idiot. It was a simple
barter system, favour for favour.
“Sounds more than fair, “I responded lightly,
“you just let me know. I will owe you good
when I get out of here.” Fabio smiled again,
and nodded his head. He really enjoyed the
idea of being owed. I would have to find a
way of paying him back. I was impressed
how simple his life was. Right now, I envied
him.
A Story By Uncutz Email:
uncutz@yahoo.com