The Outsider

by K'Anne Meinel

  Joy didn’t know if she should be insulted at being listed as indigent, relieved that she wouldn’t have to pay for the hospital care, or relieved that she was not among one of the dead? She settled back, trying to swallow and noticing her throat was sore.

  He saw her trying to swallow. “Yeah, that’s gonna hurt for a while,” he told her as he pressed carefully on both sides, looking for swollen cords. “You nearly aspirated there in the ambulance.” He continued to examine her, making sure her breathing was normal. “You need to relax. You are going to be here a few more days. Is there anyone we should contact?”

  Joy shook her head immediately, thinking of her siblings for the first time in a long time, and dismissing them. She knew they wouldn’t care. They’d be horrified to find out she was a street person, but then they might think it served her right. She was an adult now and responsible for herself. She’d gotten this far on her own and she’d never darken their doorsteps again, not that she had ever seen their homes once they moved out. As she lay there, it really hit home…she had no one. No one cared if she lived or died. No one.

  They let her lay a while before moving her to a semi-private room. The curtain separated her from her roommate. The roommate seemed to be very social and very vocal. Joy pretended to be sleeping a lot, especially when the roommate was alone and wanted to get to know her. She turned away, showing the woman her back, hearing the curtain slide open, and then slide shut again occasionally. After a couple of days of this, she overheard the roommate tell one of her many visitors ‘That girl is very unsociable.’

  Joy was not unsociable, she was just worried about when she would be leaving this place and where she would be going. She had no money. She had no place to go.

  They released her after several days and managed to find her a mismatched outfit. They gave her the bag they had put her belongings in. She went into the bathroom to put her identification in her sock and was amazed to find the little money she had had on her still there. She would have thought she wouldn’t have any, but was glad to find it. She stashed it in the front of the too tight jeans she was wearing. When she stood up, the jeans were too short and showed off her ripped and holey socks. She was ashamed, much more so than usual, since she had to leave the hospital with the oversized sweat shirt they had given her and the mismatched shoes. She’d rather go back to being that street girl she had been as she made her way down the road towards a bus stop. She debated taking the bus back to her old neighborhood. Surely, they weren’t still waiting for her and she could go to her building and get her things? She didn’t imagine her roommate had saved the room for her.

  She sat on the bench a while, looking up at the snowy night, shivering a little as she waited for a bus. When no bus came after half an hour, she began to walk. She’d gone half a block when the bus she had been waiting for lumbered by. Trying to run, she found herself too weak to race after it and slowly walked on, freezing in the cold winter of Milwaukee. She made her way downtown, past The Grand Theater where she had watched movies with her parents, which now sat vacant and empty. She’d read somewhere that people were trying to save it. She had beautiful memories of it and they kept her warm as she plodded along on Wisconsin Avenue. She went past the expensive Pfister Hotel where even now beautiful people were coming and going. She glanced through the glass doors as she passed, seeing the beautiful architecture and luxurious interior. She saw an employee eyeing her warily as she shuffled along, almost as though she would have the audacity to enter such a fine establishment.

  She knew she was going to have to stop and eat something besides the soup she had at the hospital many hours ago. She was a long way from any of the missions and she knew she better not show her face in her old neighborhoods for a while. Her jobs were long gone and not being able to reach her would frustrate her former employers, unlikely endearing her to them since they may have needed her to work. She looked up at the old-fashioned drug store and went inside.

  She was greeted with, “You can’t come in here.” She looked up in surprise as the clerk pointed at her. She looked behind her as though they were talking to someone else.

  “You mean, me?” she asked haughtily.

  “Yeah, you,” they pointed again. “Unless you buy something, you can’t stay.” She sniffed and looked Joy up and down from the mismatched shoes, to the flood pants, exposed socks, and weird sweatshirt. The woman looked down on her luck.

  “I was hoping for some hot chocolate?” Joy asked and reached for her pocket money, knowing she shouldn’t indulge, but she needed to warm up to face the rest of the night. Maybe she would find an alleyway with plenty of boxes to keep the snow off her. If she wrapped herself just right, she wouldn’t freeze to death.

  “You can pay for it?” the clerk asked rudely as she went behind the food counter and looked at Joy suspiciously.

  “Of course,” Joy muttered and pulled out a dollar to pay for the cup. When the clerk delivered it, she wrapped her cold hands around the mug and relished the warmth. The clerk scooped up the dollar bill and looked at it suspiciously before depositing it in the till and returning with Joy’s change. She seemed reluctant to put it down on the counter, but did, and then slipped back out from behind the counter to continue stocking some shelves so she could watch Joy in the slanted mirror at the top of the ceiling.

  Joy took her time, sipping slowly at the hot chocolate so as not to burn her tongue. The chocolate goodness was delicious. She’d only had Jell-O for sweets while in the hospital and she didn’t often indulge. The chocolate was wonderful and she was pleased at the little marshmallows too, fishing them out with her tongue to play them between her teeth, making it last longer as the warmth of the store seeped into her bones. She glanced around the store, looking at the many things she needed, but couldn’t afford: maxi pads for her period versus using rags that she washed out and reused, Band-aids for a cut or scrape versus letting it air dry and her blood clot, and shampoo and conditioner for her hair. She glanced up into the mirror to see the clerk exasperatedly looking at her slowly drinking the hot liquid. She knew the woman probably thought she was casing the joint.

  “Did you want another?” the harsh voice of the clerk interrupted Joy’s thoughts of the things she missed as well as her delight in feeling warm again.

  Joy considered carefully. If she used some more of her carefully hoarded money she would regret it as she wouldn’t be able to get on the bus or perhaps buy a sandwich later, but the thought of going out into the cold made her inwardly cringe, so she smiled brightly and nodded yes. The clerk reluctantly brought her another cup, this time with whipped cream. “Thank you,” she said as she passed another dollar bill across the counter.

  “You’re welcome,” the clerk answered automatically, sounding surly. She returned the coins again and headed back to stocking shelves, still watching her in the mirrors of the store.

  Joy took as much time with the second cup, if not more. The whipped cream was absolutely delicious. She knew she couldn’t delay this time as she finished the cup. Feeling generous, but knowing she shouldn’t do it, she left two quarters on the counter for the clerk and cheerfully called, “Thank you!” as she made her way to the front of the store and left. She saw in the mirror as the clerk looked after her and headed to pocket the tip. She went out again into the cold, snowy evening and headed further up Wisconsin Avenue, heading west and away from Lake Michigan. The snow was coming down thicker and she thought about making an igloo as her father had taught her in the snowdrifts in their yard when she was little. Thoughts of her parents made her almost as warm as the hot chocolate had and she buried her hands in her pockets as she looked down and walked along. It was then she saw it…a five dollar bill in the snow. She looked around to see if someone had dropped it. She put her foot down on it and waited to see if someone was pulling a prank or if something more sinister was afoot. Some of the tricks that gangs or street people pulled were downright dangerous and putting a fiver out for some unsuspecting person meant t
hey could rob them or worse. She looked around, but saw no one, not even an alley where someone could be hiding. Slowly, she crouched down and removed the bill from under her shoe. She pulled it out and stuffed it in her pocket, not even examining it as she continued her walk up the avenue.

  The bill was almost burning a hole in her pocket as she walked along, the snow blowing into her face, the wind blowing at her back from the lake. The effect was causing her to chill more rapidly than it had before. She was starting to stiffen up from hunching over and knew she better find a place out of the wind, a place to warm up, or she would be in trouble. She saw the gas station and didn’t know what impulse compelled her to go inside. She knew they would be able to tell by her attire that she was a street person and not likely to buy anything. She saw the suspicious clerk behind his thick glass. She knew they stayed behind that protective glass because people sometimes held up gas stations. A gunshot might be deflected by the thick glass. She looked for something she could buy that would be warm, but there was very little to offer in the store. She headed up and down the aisles. There was plenty if she wanted snack food, but it was way too expensive, and bad for her besides. It would eat up what little she had with her and not fill the hole that was her stomach. She merely wanted to stay warm, but she saw the clerk eyeing her a little too closely and she felt uncomfortable under his gaze. To delay a little, she went to the lottery counter and looked at the little slips of paper you could fill in to choose your own numbers. On impulse, she started to fill in the little dots next to numbers representing her birthday, her mother’s birthday, and then her father’s. Since her parents were born the same year, she had her five numbers. She chose the number five as the Powerball number since she was the fifth child. She laughed at herself for the idea. Like she would waste two dollars on a ticket. She felt a hand on her back and whirled around, but no one was there. The hand had felt familiar, like when Dad had encouraged her to try something. It was an odd sensation to be having in the middle of a convenience store/gas station. She looked up again to see the clerk looking at her oddly; he must have seen her twirl. She returned to her ticket as though examining if she had filled in the tiny dots exactly. Her pencil filled them in a little more, making sure each circle was completely filled. She knew she was just wasting time, trying to get warm. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, her hair hiding the look, but saw the clerk still staring at her suspiciously. She sighed. She couldn’t stay here all night.

  She bravely walked up to the counter, grabbed a salted nut roll and a Hershey’s chocolate bar, and put them on the counter with the lottery slip, pulling the five dollar bill from her pocket. It was found money, she might as well use it.

  “Do you want the multiplier?” he asked, the first words he had spoken as he took the ticket and her five dollar bill.

  “What’s that?” she asked, not having the faintest idea.

  “It’s the Power Play option?” he clarified as though she would understand that.

  Having never bought a lottery ticket in her life, she shook her head.

  He sighed. “If you buy the Power Play option and you win anything else but the jackpot, what you win is automatically doubled,” he explained as though she were an idiot.

  “I have to buy this Power Play?” she asked wonderingly.

  “Yes, the Powerball costs two dollars and the Power Play is an extra dollar.”

  “So, it costs three dollars?” she asked, horrified at the expense.

  “Well, only if you get the extra Power Play,” he sounded condescending. “Otherwise it’s only two dollars.”

  ‘Only two dollars,’ she thought. ‘Two wasted dollars!’ Still, she felt that hand on her back again and wondered if snow had gotten down her sweatshirt and was now feeling warm as it ran down her back? She whirled again to look behind her and no one was there, so she looked down to see if any snow had melted and fallen.

  The clerk looked at her curiously, wondering if she was right in the head. The way she was dressed, and certainly the way she was acting, was suspicious. He waited patiently. She didn’t speak as she thought about it and finally he asked, “Do you want the candy and the ticket?” He wondered if she was going to bolt with the candy or if he was going to have to call the police on her.

  Joy started and nodded, deciding to indulge herself this once. The candy would feel good and she hadn’t had a candy bar in a very long time. “I’ll take the lottery ticket without the Power Play,” she told him, proud that she had made a decision. That one dollar would go towards the candy, which was overpriced as it was. What happened to the day when candy bars were only a quarter?

  He handed her the ticket after running her slip, then handed that back as well.

  “What do I do with this?” she asked, holding out the slip she had filled in.

  He shrugged. “Some people use it time and time again for their numbers.”

  “Oh,” she said, folding it and stuffing it into her jeans pocket. She folded the lottery ticket and slipped it into another pocket and then took the change and the candy. She slipped the coins in the front pocket again and ripped open the candy bar. “Thank you,” she said as she went back out into the cold.

  That night she managed to find shelter under two refrigerator boxes, wrapping herself and her head in newspapers that someone had thrown out. She crumpled them up and slid them into the sweatshirt for insulation, wrapping them around her feet and legs where she could. She shivered herself in and out of sleep for most of the night and rose to stamp her blood awake as she slowly made her way to one of the churches that allowed the homeless to come to worship. That Sunday, she prayed with the sinners, not believing a word of it, but feeling better for having gone. She went to three services before noon and felt warmer for the first time since she had left the hospital.

  She made her way to the first of several missions to get food, a blanket, and a place to stay. For the next couple of weeks, she was lucky to find a place. Then one night, she was too late and all the spots were filled. She was turned away time and time again.

  She made her way back down Wisconsin Avenue and saw the gas station again. Remembering the lottery ticket, she headed inside. The clerk was a different one, but still looked at her attire suspiciously as she dug deep in her pocket, pulled the paper out, and slid the ticket across the counter. The girl ran it under a scanner to read the numbers.

  “You’ve won!” the girl said excitedly.

  “How much?” Joy asked, her own excitement over her good fortune mounting.

  The girl looked at her, confused for a moment. “It just says you are a winner. You’ll have to go down to the lottery commission to find out.”

  “It doesn’t tell you how much?” Joy asked, disappointed, wondering if it would even be worth it to go all the way downtown again where the commission was sure to be. She didn’t want to waste her time or energy.

  “It just flashes on my screen, ‘This ticket is a winner,’” she explained.

  Joy was annoyed. “You can’t pay me?” she asked, hoping she didn’t have to go downtown again. She knew it would be cold and she was cold enough. She wanted to find one of the shelters. She hoped whoever was looking for her was not looking there.

  “No, not amounts over six hundred,” the girl told her, chewing on her gum like a cow chewing its cud. She looked like she was ready to pop a bubble as she chomped.

  “So, it is definitely over six hundred?” Joy allowed her spirits to soar in hope. That was a lot of money; it would definitely buy her a ticket out of town. Maybe she should go to Florida and sleep on the beach for a change. Maybe going downtown wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  The girl looked at Joy as though she were stupid. “Yeah, it has to be or it would tell me to pay you.”

  “So, where do I go to claim this?” she indicated the ticket the girl had handed back to her, wondering if she would pull it back and Joy wouldn’t get her money.

  “Well, if I were you, I’d fill out the back in pen and the
n go down to the lottery office and get your money,” she told her helpfully.

  “Fill out the back?” Joy mumbled as she turned the ticket over and saw a space for her name and address. Fortunately, thanks to her driver’s license, she did have an address, even if she didn’t live there anymore. What if they checked though? Would they still give her the money? She looked up at the girl again. “Do you have a pen I may borrow?”

  Reluctantly the clerk slid a pen across the counter. “I need it back though, we don’t give them out like.”

  Joy agreed to return it, but took her ticket to the lottery counter so that other customers could be served as she slowly filled out the tiny lines including her name and address. Shoving the ticket deep in her front pocket, she stood in line again to return the pen and then asked the girl, “Do you know where the lottery commission is?”

  “It’s downtown, I think,” the girl said absentmindedly as she took her pen back and pressed a button and spoke into a speaker, “Go ahead, pump number five.”

  Joy could see she was distracted, doing her job, and didn’t have any more time for her. She spotted a telephone at the back of the store and looked through the phone book to find the address for the lottery commission. She repeated the address several times in her head to memorize it.

  As she was starting to head down Wisconsin Avenue again, she realized it was Sunday and the office wouldn’t be open on a weekend. Cursing her luck, she realized she was already so far down that she might as well find out where it was and note it for the following day. She could then hang out in a mall or somewhere until closing time. Maybe she would find somewhere to sleep in a dumpster, which was dangerous as you never knew where or when they would be picked up. Or maybe a parking garage, but that meant she might be spotted and harassed by security. She finally found the address. It was closed, the whole business building was locked, and she ended up in the Grand Avenue Mall. She wandered through it, window shopping, looking at things she didn’t want and had never wanted, wondering how much she might have won. It was over six hundred dollars or that girl would have paid her…that kept ringing in her head. Later, she dozed by one of the many fountains until security asked her to move along.