Page 15 of Something Like Hail

When he lost thecar,that’swhenNoah cut himself off from everyone. Until then, he didn’t reallyconsider himself homeless. Not exactly. After he had felt forced tosell the car, when his only sleeping options became relying on thegenerosity of others or spending the night on secluded parkbenches, Noah had changed. He didn’t like to ask for help, or forothers to see him so helpless. Noah stopped visiting San Antonio,wanting to hide the truth and needing to be closer to the only manwho had ever claimed to love him. What a joke! When had they lastseen each other? Six months ago? More?

He was alone. The realization hit Noah hard,his eyes moving back to the names on his phone. He needed to reachout to someone. Anyone, and of his two options, he definitely likedone of them more than the other.

Hey,he texted.Quick question.

Shoot!Harold responded.

What kind of plan does this phone have? Do Ineed to worry about how much I use it?

Ha! Marcello doesn’t know the meaning ofmoderation. You’re on unlimited.

Bandwidth or…

Unlimited everything!

Nice!He smiled, feeling like someone now occupied the empty seatacross from him.What are youdoing?

I’m toasted, man. I feel like it’s taking mean hour to write each line. Sorry.

You’re doing fine.

Cool. What are you up to? Already inbed?

Noah looked around thediner, seeing only lonely souls like himself and one drunk couplewho kept snorting with laughter.Yeah. I’mnice and warm in my big ol’ bed.

And playing with your phone. Don’t use it tosurf porn!

Why not?

You need to save yourstrength, Harold replied.You can’t just blow a load anytime you want. Thatstuff is too valuable. White gold!

Noah laughed outloud.Gross!

I’m not kidding. Better change the topic.I’m always a horndog when I’m high.

Something to keep in mindfor the next time Harold asked if he wanted to smoke.I guess I’ll crash now,Noah texted.

Don’t be nervous about tomorrow. You’ll dofine. You’re fun to be around. That’s the most important part.Aside from all the other stuff. ;)

You’re fun to be aroundtoo, Noah typed.Ireally like you. A lot.Then he thoughtbetter, deleting the words and replacing them with,Goodnight.

Sweet dreams!

Noah finished his pie, sipped a refill ofcoffee until he felt he’d worn out his welcome, and stood. He lefta tip on the table and paid at the counter. Then he used therestroom while still having the convenience of doing so, andafterwards, grimaced at the light mist when he went outside. Toobad his pack was in the locker at Jerusalem. No sleeping bag orcoat. That brought back memories. He’d survived those first nightson the street. He would do so again, this time a little wiser. Noahwalked to one of the larger parks, avoiding the sidewalks andbenches that police were likely to check when patrolling. He founda cluster of trees far away from the city lights and pushed his waythrough the brush there. His skin was scratched by branches, but atleast here the earth was dry. He debated between layering the newclothes to keep warm or using the shopping bags as a pillow. In theend he opted for the latter, eyes remaining open long after hepressed his cheek to a plastic bag.

Chapter Three

Noah awoke, skin damp with dew and musclesaching from sleeping on hard ground. His clothing wasn’t exactlydry, but he felt optimistic despite shivering with cold. The dayalways offered more options than the night. Starting with breakfastand a shower at the shelter. He warmed up on the walk to Jerusalem,hoping for a friendly face behind the counter, but the Bouncer andanother man he didn’t know were on duty. Noah took advantage of theoffered hospitality, then went to the public library to read.Having money was a luxury. He didn’t need to spend time begging onthe streets. He could continue his job search, which until now hadbeen fruitless. Noah didn’t possess an education. He had droppedout of high school, and if potential employers ever botheredcalling him back, they probably hung up when realizing they hadreached a homeless shelter. Now he had a phone of his own, andafter a few weeks of proving himself as an escort, maybe Marcellowould be willing to vouch for him. With a reference, Noah couldland a day job and really get his life on track.

He used the note-taking feature of the phoneto key in a rough plan, looking up cheap apartment rentals andaverage utility costs to create a budget. Noah was encouraged bythe results. Even without a day job—if he was careful—he could dothis. He would have to work hard and spend lightly, but he saw away out.

With this in mind, he found himself eagerfor his first date. Noah freshened up at the shelter, takinganother shower and visiting a nearby department store to spray on afew puffs of sample cologne. He left early for the address that hadbeen provided, walking slowly and sticking to shade to avoidsweating, and arrived in a middle-class neighborhood. The kind withperfectly manicured lawns and sprinklers to nourish the thickemerald grass. Residents walked their dogs while wearingspecialized athletic clothing, earbuds snaking down their necks andinto pockets fitted especially for their phones. Noah wasn’t sureif he envied or despised them. Considering he had his own phonenow—earbuds included—maybe he was one step closer to joining theirranks.

George’s house didn’t stand out from therest. Noah wouldn’t have given it a second glance, had he not beensent there. The ranch-style home had a decent yard and a two-cargarage with an American flag hanging over the driveway.

Noah checked his phone, relieved that he wasright on time. He went up to the door and knocked, bracing himselffor a really old guy, or maybe one who looked like a troll anddrooled when he spoke. Instead he was greeted by a man just asaverage as his home. George Perry was a few inches shorter thanNoah and heavy enough to have stomach paunch and the hint of adouble chin. His blond hair was trimmed, his glasses twomaroon-framed rectangles. Clean-shaven and wearing a blue dressshirt and matching tie, his appearance was presentable enough. Noahnormally wouldn’t consider someone in his forties as a potentialmate, but he could do a lot worse.

“So you’re my date for theevening, huh?” George said, offering his hand. “Aredhead!”