05: Life on the Streets

III: Survival Mode

When you’re living your life in endurance mode,
you don’t expect anything good to happen.
I’m not saying you don’t dream about some miracle
that would change everything for the better.
But you pretty much know it’s only a fantasy,
and that you have no real control over anything.

Nancy Werlin

05: Life on the Streets

My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive;
and to do so with some passion, some compassion,
some humor, and some style.

Maya Angelou

Exiting the portal, Paul noted the differences. Like Peg, he realized the holes were deeper than their flat surfaces indicated. You didn’t move, but it took time between entering and leaving, as if his motions ceased while in them. Once out, he observed the bathroom doors with their rustic peeling paint and worn wood.

“Girl, this sure ain’t Manhattan!”

Peg giggled. “I know. It’s somewhere in Arkansas. I wanted you to meet someone.”

She turned and headed into the old-fashioned boxcar diner. While New York had many diners, this building’s dimensions were more restrictive and the available space was limited. Never encountering this type before, Paul marveled that they still existed. Yet here they were in Arkansas, probably the worst state for a young gay kid. He prepared for the worst, not pleased about this particular excursion.

Peg stopped, peering behind the counter while waiting for him. When he caught up, seeing the customers wearing basic plaid shirts and plain blouses, he wondered whether Arkansas had any decent stores. She led him to their seats.

Neither was tall enough to easily access the stools, so they struggled a bit. Being taller, Peg had an easier time and seemed more accustomed to them.

Glancing behind the bar, she leaned forward to peer into the kitchen.

“Is Midge here?” she asked the waitress leaning against the back wall, chewing gum instead of wiping counters or serving customers.

“Nah! She works the next shift.” She glanced at her watch. “She won’t be here for another forty minutes.”

“How about Joe? Is he around?”

“We get a lot of Joes here.”

“Older man, bald, with a woven cap?”

“Tweed. That’s Joe Tucker. He only comes after work.” Peg bit her lip, gauging how long they might stay. “Are your parents here, or can I get you somethin’?”

Coming to a decision, Peg withdrew a crinkled twenty from her mother’s cash. “We’ll have two pi—what’s good for breakfast here?”

“Eggs over easy with hash browns is popular,” Helen, their waitress said, sizing them up. “Though you might prefer hot dogs?”

“If you’re paying, do they have Eggs Benedict?”

Taking in the colorful shirt, the slim chain around his neck and his fitted leather jacket, Helen stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Is French toast exotic enough for your highness?”

Blushing—unusual for him as he prided himself as being ready for anything—Paul nodded.

“I’m not very hungry. Do you want to split it?” Peg asked.

“Yeah, zipping through portals isn’t nearly as tiring as I thought.”

“We’ll also have two glasses of orange juice, please.”

“You have any Perrier?” Paul pushed.

“We got water from a faucet. If you want mountain water, I suggest you start walkin’.”

“Sorry, I was hoping you might keep the less popular items behind the counter. I’ll take plain water,” he grumbled. Briefly studying her slim butt as she sauntered away—similar to the older boys he knew—he turned, taking in the other patrons.

“Why are we visiting Arkansas, of all places?” he whispered.

“One of my few friends works here. I want to tell her I’m okay.”

“We’re not okay, we’re in Arkansas! They stick kids like me in conversion camps here.”

“They haven’t done that for a long time,” she insisted, not sure what they did. “You’re a spoiled city kid on vacation with his parents. No one thinks any more of it.”

“I still feel uncomfortable in these situations,” he muttered, changing the topic. “Where else have you been? You mentioned California?”

“Let’s see, only Los Angeles, here and somewhere in Asia. I didn’t see much in L.A. aside from a highway.” Peg noticed people staring, so they stopped talking so openly. Their food came before long and they dug in. Afterward, it was mostly awkward silence. There was so much they needed to discuss but couldn’t without attracting attention. It wasn’t like Manhattan, where you could say the most outlandish thing and no one gave you a second glance. Both were surprised at how much change Helen returned. Finally, Paul excused himself, which made Peg self-conscious. She wouldn’t have minded going too, but wasn’t sure she could squeeze past the overlapping hole. It was a while before he returned.

He grinned like he’d won a bet as he settled back on his stool. “Some things don’t change, even here.” She raised a brow, not wanting to pry, and he leaned in, whispering. “Someone took a shine to me.”

She sat back. “You didn’t!”

“He was cute.” Paul handed her a twenty. Her mouth dropped open, shocked he’d not only do such a thing, but did it so casually. “Hey, I gotta earn it when I can. I never know when I’ll hit another dry spell.”

“Well Lordy, I do declare, you continue to surprise me.” They turned as Midge strode up, still tying her apron. “Do you even have parents, young lady?”

Rather than answering, Peg made introductions. “This is Midge. Midge, this is my new friend, Paul.”

She looked him up and down. “As lost as your little companion seems, you stand out like a sore thumb. You can tell you ain’t from around here.”

“No, Ma’am, I’m from the city,” he said in a passable Arkansas accent. Peg could see why he made friends so easily.

“I shoulda known. We don’t get many kids in here wearing expensive leather jackets.”

Paul blushed again, yet now it seemed quaint, making both ladies love him even more. “It was a gift from a friend.”

She studied him. “A gift, or a gift?”

“Andre gave it to me,” he said proudly, his grin dropping, but Peg didn’t push for an answer.

“I stopped in to tell you that everything worked out. The police got my message, but I’m not going back. My mother and I argued and she told me not to return.”

Midge clutched her heart. “That’s terrible. Where are you going to go? Do you have any relatives who’ll take you in?”

Peg nodded towards Paul. “No, but now there’s nothing keeping me there. Paul’s going to show me how to survive, so I can last for a little while. But I’m not sure I can trust anyone any more. I don’t know how many knew what Mom’s boyfriend was up to.”

“Kids can’t live on their own. You need someone to watch out for you.”

“They haven’t yet,” Peg said, her face set. “Paul has lived on his own for years, and had it worse than I did. I don’t intend to do what he does, since I still have a few options.”

“Well, you seem able to return whenever you want, so if you get in trouble or need to talk, you’re always welcome here. Though I’ll worry the entire time you’re gone.” She glanced around. “Personally, I’d probably tell the Sheriff, but don’t know who you are, where you live, or how you got here.”

“Between us, we’ll figure things out,” Paul said.

“Just because you’ve convinced yourself doesn’t mean you will, but go with God. I hope he’ll watch over you both.”

He wiggled off the stool. “He hasn’t yet. I’m not holding my breath.”

“Heading back to the restroom?”

She nodded. “Where else? I don’t know the neighborhood.”

“I’d escort you out, but I’m not sure I want to see how you vanish from sight.”

Leaving, Peg noted Paul making eye contact with a man in his late twenties. However, he looked away rather than acknowledge him.

“Are you ready?” she asked when they reached the familiar hole.

“Yep, I’m eager to return to my old haunts.” She took his hand, and there was no sign they’d ever been there.

__________
Stepping out before the same video arcade, no one nearby noticed. Paul took Peg’s elbow and guided her down Seventh Avenue, aiming for a side street. Still unsure where anything was, she didn’t know whether they were walking north, south, east or west.

“Let’s get as far from here as possible. Jack is likely still after us.”

“It’s been a while since we left.”

“Yeah, but Slim’s still around.”

“So where are we going?”

“I’ll show you the safest place for you. You’ll be safe, but it closes in the evening. You’ll need to decide whether you’ll spend the night in a shelter, on the street or somewhere else. In the meantime, enjoy Times Square. We get more visitors here than virtually anyplace else, helped no doubt by the many pedophiles seeking kids like us.”

“It’s certainly busy.” Peg marveled at the array of lights in the distance as they passed an intersection.

“We’re keeping off Seventh Avenue, the main drag, as we’ll be safer on the less-frequented areas. We’ll cross over at the Times Square tower. It’s jammed, so a couple kids mixing in won’t stand out. Jack and his goons will be looking for me in the arcades, expecting me to try to score. They won’t be checking these less-used locations.”

“These streets seem incredibly crowded.”

“Speaking of which, hand me the envelope your mother gave you.”

Studying him questioningly, she did as he asked, but hesitated when he went to take it. “I know I’m asking you to trust me, but in this neighborhood it’s more secure than in your pocket.”

Letting go, he slid it into an inside pocket of his leather jacket, clearly showing her where it was. “This area has loads of pickpockets targeting tourists, but unsuspecting kids are considered an easy mark. They’ll slip behind you and slit your pockets or bag to grab your purse as it falls without you knowing.”

Peering behind her, there were so many people she didn’t know who might be a thief and who wasn’t. “Thanks for warning me. I’d never know what to look for.”

“Even the locals can’t spot a decent pickpocket. That’s why it’s safer to keep your cash close: inside a jacket, a hidden pouch or in a front pocket where it’s harder to access.”

“After everything you’ve done, I didn’t think you’d steal it, but ... your asking surprised me.”

“That’s understandable, but this is something non-New Yorkers just aren’t aware of.

“The other thing is to look like a native. Number one, never gaze up at the buildings and don’t stare at all the attractions. Manhattanites are notorious for ignoring celebrities, and are all business. If you appear to be a native, the pickpockets are less likely to bother you. Walk fast, like you’re late for an appointment, and look dead ahead. It’s especially important with the homeless. If you make eye contact, they’ll try to engage you, begging for a handout, or those off their meds will think you’re making fun of them. Either way, it’s best not to get involved.”

“Never?”

“If you want to talk to them, do it on a park bench. There, you’re on equal ground and can speak honestly. Giving to someone who’s needy is legit, but ensure they don’t think it’s because you pity them. Instead offer them food or to buy a meal. Don’t give them cash, as they’ll likely spend it on booze.”

“Geez, this is a lot to remember.”

“Just watch those we pass, and you’ll recognize how everyone does it. You’ll catch on quickly.”