Chicago--Part 12.

I spent that night in Lincoln Park.  There’s a shelter not too far north of Addison St.  It’s just off the lake and completely infested with raccoon.  Raccoon is the plural of raccoon, I thought as I saw at least five sets of eyes, glowing with the reflected light of Chicago.  So, one raccoon can eat ten raccoon, and the grammar police have no trouble with it.  The glow never left their eyes as they followed my faltering footsteps to the shelter. As I sat, the night’s darkness seemed absolute on the lake.  I looked out and could see the infinite nothing, or was it something?  Maybe it was both.  Maybe something is just the plural of nothing.  It sounds deep, I thought, but it’s probably just my brain waking up for the first time in a month.  Had it been a month?  Had it been a year? 

I felt my face flush as I get angry, but I try to temper it.  No one forced me to stay there.  No one told me I had to keep living my life that way.  I could have left at any time.  Without money and clothes, I guess.  But I could’ve left.  It’s not enough to stop my anger though.  I felt it flood over me, mixed with more than a little bit of shame. 

“I gave up.”  I said to any of the raccoon who may be close enough to hear. 

Spending a night in a park about thirty yards from a large metropolitan is probably not many people’s idea of roughing it in untamed nature, but that is as close as I’ve come to having to make due for myself in the wild.  I was lucky that no one, especially the police came around, because I’m pretty sure it’s discouraged for people to sleep in the park.  Not that I really got much sleep, shivering in the cool lake breeze.

            I watched the sun rise out of Lake Michigan, peering over the sandy mounts washing up against the metal barriers.  For a moment, I thought I could see land on the other side of lake.  That might have been the lack of sleep, but it seemed like time slowed down and the state of Michigan looked back at me beyond the blue waves. 

After I summoned myself back from whatever I saw, I began to move again.  The raccoon had disappeared in the night, as if they only existed in the reflected glow of Chicago’s lights and couldn’t stand the harsher sun.  I could hear the city summoning me with its din.  Cars and buses rumbled down Lake Shore Drive.  People walked down the streets in pairs chatting, or alone.  I walked past the Cubby Bear with the beer truck sitting out front. Rolling kegs rang against the pavement as the pavement rang against the kegs rolling.  A few people in blue hats were preparing themselves for another game day.  I took some pleasure in seeing a couple people in red, but I moved on quickly.

I walked quiet, sure of purpose.  Not many places would be open this early, but the grill would be. They would be starting to serve whoever showed up.

I walked past the little old shop I discovered yesterday. I walked under the bridge that asked “Why only see half?” as a train carrying suburbanites into the city for their work roared over my head. I stalked down to Roscoe and came to the grill.

I calmly opened the door and walked back to the griddle where she stood. She turned and I could tell everyone had expected me this morning. I felt my calm shatter.

“No one let me in last night.” It was all I could think to say.  Never let it be said I am not prepared for a big moment.

“Leopold.” Candice’s voice spoke hollowly. Her eyes darted over my shoulder, and I turned with a good guess who might be there.

“Leopold.” Solomon’s voice was crisp and clear. His hands stayed at his side. Paul and Stephen stood behind him, arms crossed.

“Solomon, quite the show of force you’ve got here.” I nodded at Paul and Stephen who did not react.

He turned to see Paul and Stephen and turning back to me said, “What is it you would like?”

 I lowered my head. “I told you I didn’t want to go. I knocked on the gate and doors for hours last night trying to get back in. But I’m not welcome?”

“You are welcome.  Everyone is welcome here, provided they abide by the rules.  And I can look at you now and see that you are not here to abide by the rules.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the door. “Let’s be civil about this.”

“Civil is not what I’m good at.” Sometimes I try to say something clever, and it’s just pure cheese. What can you do?

“Be that as it may.” He gestured again.

“See, what I’m wondering about is, when I came here. You took my clothes. You took my underwear and my shirt. I think I was wearing a hat, I can’t quite remember. But you took that too. You took everything from me.”

“You gave those items to us. They were a condition of your being here.”  He shot a glance over his shoulder to Paul, who left the room.

“You took my wallet.” Solomon’s arm fell just a little before he caught himself. The smile never faded from his face. “I want it back.  But I’m betting it’s gone.  I’m betting you’ve used all the cash, well, there wasn’t that much cash, but I’m betting it’s gone.  And I’m betting my credit cards have helped buy you the nice meals you have while we eat the crap you put in front of us.”

“Don’t you dare disrespect Solomon.”  Stephen grabbed my left arm, and I pivoted, pushed my hip into him and flipped him over my body and onto the floor with a thud. He groaned.

I stood up quickly to ready myself for Paul or Solomon or anyone else, but everyone seemed to take a step back.  Their faces all seemed taken aback.  Except for Candice.  Her face was unreadable to me.  I looked at her eyes, but they stared at the floor by my feet.

“There was no need for that Leopold.”  Solomon’s words seemed to wobble in the air for a second.

“Very rude gentlemen. Very rude.” I brushed myself off. “Now, we were talking about how you stole from me.” I took a deep breath. “My friend, the one in here yesterday is an attorney, and a good one. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to give me money. I will use this money to put gas in my car, or more likely buy a bus ticket back to Des Moines when I find out you sold that too. You will let anyone and everyone else leave.”

“Or else what? You will sue us?” Solomon’s smile was steady and bemused.

“You don’t want my or else.” I said, very smoothly if I do say so myself.

At this point, Paul came back into the room and stopped short, seeing Stephen still lying on the floor.  Seeing Paul’s return, Solomon continued.  “I am certainly quaking with trepidation. Everyone here is free to leave. They always have been.” He stepped aside, gesturing toward the door again and spoke loudly. “Please, anyone who feels wronged or like they do not belong, know you can leave with my understanding and blessing.  But before you do, I would like to clear up one thing.”  Solomon motioned to Paul, who strode forward and handed a bag to Solomon.  Solomon opened the bag and turned it over.  Spilling out came my clothes, my hat, and lastly my wallet. 

I didn’t move.  I stared.

“These,” Solomon said with a sweep of his arm, “are your things.  You’ll find that nothing is gone.”

I stepped forward, leaned and picked up my things.

“Please count your money.  If you are missing even a penny I will make sure it is returned to you.”  His voice was beaming. 

I stood still for a second.

“He treats you like slave labor. Look how he’s dressed. Look how Paul’s dressed. They don’t eat gruel with us. They live a life of luxury, and they do it by over-charging for pancakes and stealing from you.” Still no one moved. I turned toward Candice.

“Come on. You’re not happy here are you?”  I put my hands on her shoulders, but she shrugged away from me.

Her voice was calm and clear. “I don’t need you to rescue me.”

“I’m not. I just.” I tried to smile calmly. “Someone needs to rescue you.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe. But not you. And not now.”

“So you’re all just going to stay here? In this haze of semi-living? You’re done trying? You’ve all given up?” I started to back toward the kitchen door. “None of you?” I almost whispered.

“We will thank you to never cross our door step again.” Solomon said as I pushed the kitchen door open. I watched the door swoosh shut as I came into the service area.

“I quit.” I said loudly enough so that all eyes in the dining room were on me. “I cannot work around all those mice and roaches!”

I am petty, even when I am an idiot.