I spotted the man on my way through the park. He was hunched over up against the base of a tree, and appeared to be asleep. His face was buried in his arms, and as I studied more closely, a strange sense of recognition hit me. This wasn’t just another homeless guy who always asked you for a handout; he was different. As I thought about it I realized that I had seen him before, along the street or sleeping on benches, but this was the first time I had actually noticed him. The first time I had really seen him. Why hadn’t I noticed him before? I watched him for a moment and came to the conclusion that I hadn’t noticed him because he really wasn’t the type one notices. Distant, hidden. There’s a lot like him, like they’ve shunned the world.
I guess I was staring, because the next thing I knew he was looking up at me with haunting grey eyes. He was younger than most of the others, maybe in his twenties, but the solemn curve of his expression made him seem older. Much older. He held my gaze for a moment, then turned away with disgust. Without really knowing why, I cleared my throat and carefully approached him.
“Hey.” He continued to stare off into space. “Are you okay?” I hesitated. He didn’t seem to want me around. “Do you need something?” He looked at me again; it was the same, cold and silent. I felt like an idiot standing out there, but in the back of my mind something told me that I needed to be here--if nothing else then at least for my own sake.
“Let me ask you something.” His voice surprised me, even though it was not surprising in and of itself. Low and monotone, it fit him perfectly. “What do you plan to accomplish, exactly, by talking to me?” the man dropped his head and pulled his hat down so that his eyes vanished in the shadows. I could find no answer.
“Well, I just saw you sitting over here by yourself and thought I might ask you if you needed any help.” I knew my answer was weak. He grunted.
“For your information I don’t. I already know who you people are. You’re one of those church types, aren’t you?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“And you probably want to talk to me about my soul, and how God loves me, and about how this guy called Jesus saves people...Right?” I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to answer. “Here’s a little somethin’ for you, I’ve heard it a million times, and I sure don’t need it.” his voice had no emotion at all, but somehow he expressed his detest clearly. I wondered if there really was an opportunity here, or if God was just enjoying my embarrassment.
“Hey, I was just going to ask you if you were okay.” His body became tense.
“Well for the record I’m not. But it’s none of your business.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Hey listen, do you want something to eat?” I asked. He hesitated.
“No.”
“Do you need some money? I’ve got a twenty right here.” I pulled out the bill and held it out to him.
“Keep it. I don’t want it.” I put the money away. This man sure had me puzzled.
“Do you want anything?” he turned his face way. “Do you want to talk?” His shoulders relaxed just slightly. I decided that was his way of saying yes, so I sat down on the grass across from him. Before I could ask him anything, he started off on his own.
“You’re probably wondering how I got here, what it was that put me on the streets. Well, it wasn’t drugs, and it wasn’t drinking, and it wasn’t because I don’t want to work.” He lapsed into silence and I wasn’t sure if I should try prod him with questions.
“I’m out here because of something I did. No one needs someone with a record. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked for a job.”
“Why don’t you ask someone for help?” I said. His brow furrowed.
“I’ve never had to rely on anyone to fix my life, and even though my life’s a mess, I’m the one who’s going to put it back together, I’m not wiling to accept someone else’s help.” His words seemed to have the exact opposite effect on me, as now I felt an even stronger pull towards helping him. I kept silent, however, knowing full well that he would only refuse any offer I had if I were to give one to him. Still, I was sure I knew what this man needed.
“Besides,” he went on, “the help people try to give you isn’t what I need anyway. Don’t need food or shelter…and that’s all those places out there give you.”
“Then what do you need?” I asked. He was quiet for a moment, and at that point I realized that he didn’t have an answer.
:I don’t know.” His voice and face were still emotionless, but I could sense what he was feeling. Desperation. He was searching desperately for something, and he could not find, struggling against his own will. He could not see the truth that had been offered to him so many times before. Maybe there was something I could do for him after all.
“Hey, I own my on place. If you need a job I’d be willing to give you one.” There it was, he could either take it or leave it. The man grabbed his backpack and stood up, eis reply coming much sooner then what I had anticipated.
“No thanks. I know I need it, need the money, but I don’t need another person like you trying to get involved in my life.
Sure, I want to be accepted again, but that won’t happen with you people. You’re all the same. Acting like you want to do good, but just trying to make a few good marks with God.” He turned and started to leave. “You don’t really care.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” I asked. The man paused, but he didn’t look back at me.
“It never even crossed your mind, did it, that you forgot to ask me my name.”
