Sam got into the car himself without saying anything more, and
Henry
stood at his window, shifting from one foot to the other, his interest obviously growing as
Sam
’s declined.
“You want to get some shoes or what?”
Sam
asked. “I don’t give a damn if you ever go to detox.”
With that said,
Henry
hurried around the front of the car and got in. He looked over at
Sam
, grinned nervously, and closed the door himself. Then he opened it and closed it again for good measure.
“I ain’t done that before,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Get in a cop’s car without being pushed in it.”
“Well, I haven’t done this before either,”
Sam
said. “What size shoes do you wear?”
“Nine, double E.”
He gave the precise measurements as if he were at a shoe store, and
Sam
could not help laughing. He would bet the last time
Henry
got a precisely fitted pair of shoes he was a green cop learning how to ignore people like
Henry
.
“What happens if we can only find nine, single E?”
Henry got the joke right away and laughed.
“Those last ones was bigger than that. I guess any size will do.”
Sam started the engine, then sat for a moment with the transmission still in park. Where to go? When he offered to find
Henry
shoes, he had not thought about the time. He had not thought about many things. It was
five o’clock
on Saturday morning. The Goodwill and Salvation Army would be closed, and
Henry
had already expressed his thoughts about the county detoxification center. The only hope was that one of the missions for the homeless would be open.
He put the car into gear and made a U-turn on
Main Street
. Most of the missions were crowded together a few blocks away on
First Avenue
. He parked in front of the Bread of Life Mission and looked past
Henry
through the window. There were no lights on inside.
Henry
looked out the same window and then down to his shoeless feet. He did not turn to look at
Sam
.
“It doesn’t look too promising,”
Sam
said.
“Don’t none of them open their doors until
7:00
.”
“I’ll just see if anybody’s there. You wait here in the car.”
Sam walked to the door and peered in one of the side windows. The worn lobby was empty, but there was a light in a back room.
Sam
knocked loudly and waited. At first, no one came, but he persisted and eventually a man came to the door. The knocking had wakened him, and he was not pleased. However, when he saw the police uniform, his expression changed and he hurried to open the door.
“Yes sir, officer,” the man said.
“I have a man here who needs a pair of shoes. He was robbed of his. Do you keep any around here?”
“Sure, we got all kinds of old clothes, but they’re locked in the closet. I don’t have the key for any of that.
Mr.
Engstrom
, he’ll be here at
6:30
. He’s got the keys.”
Sam turned to the car and saw
Henry
’s hopeful face. Or maybe it was a hopeless face. How could he tell? He didn’t want to look at that face until
6:30
.
“Do you think this man could wait inside here until
Mr.
Engstrom
arrives—get a pair of shoes then?”
“I’m not supposed to let anybody come in until
7:00
. They got to be talked to before we let anybody in.”
“Even if I asked you?”
“They’ll fire me if I let him come in. That’s what they said.”
“Well, I don’t want you to get fired. What about the other missions?”
“I don’t know what they do. Pretty much the same, I guess. They’ve got clothes at the detox.”
“I know. That doesn’t seem to be an option. I guess I’ll have to figure out something else. Sorry to bother you.”
“I wish I could help, officer.”
“Me too,”
Sam
said, knowing that the time for help was running short.
He walked back to the car resolved that
Henry
would have to find his own shoes, but when he saw
Henry
’s face, his resolution disappeared. He would keep his mouth shut in the future.
“We have one more option,”
Sam
said, hoping nobody would ever learn about this last option of his. “There might be some shoes down in the police locker room. You won’t flip out if I drive into the Police Station, will you?”
“I guess not.”
“You don’t have to go. You can get out right here if you want to.”
“I guess I’ll go.”
Henry became jittery again when
Sam
drove into the police garage, but he relaxed somewhat when
Sam
told him where he was going. Not that there was complete trust—there were too many police cars around for that. Circling down inside the garage was as much like jail as
Henry
needed to feel. Still he sat tight like
Sam
told him, although he fidgeted with the door handle until
Sam
parked on B deck beside the door leading to the men’s locker room.
Sam
went into the locker room and came out carrying a pair of white tennis shoes. He sat down in the car and put the tennis shoes on top of the briefcase that separated him from
Henry
.
“Try these on,”
Sam
said.
Henry held the shoes up to see them in the light. His face, worn from hard use and neglect, seemed to glow in the light’s reflection.
“You want me to put them on here?”
“Sure.”
With
Henry
shod at last,
Sam
drove back out of the garage into sunlight.
Henry
was not a talker, and
Sam
watched him clandestinely without turning his head. With shoes on
Henry
seemed to sit taller than before. Once the air was moving through the open windows, it wasn’t so bad having
Henry
in the car.
“They fit okay?”
Sam
asked.
“Yes sir. They fit fine.”
“Not too big?”
“Not so’s I’d say anything. I’m real grateful for what you did. These is your shoes, ain’t they?”
“They’re yours now.”
“Thank you.”
That should be enough,
Sam
thought. A good deed, sincere gratitude, the city barely awake, not even
six o’clock
in the morning. Looking directly at
Henry
, he decided that it was enough.
“Where can I drop you off?”
“Anyplace is fine. Right here is okay with me.”
Right here was First and
Columbia
. Ahead, the on-ramp of the Viaduct picked up cars for the southbound lanes of the elevated highway.
Sam
pulled into a taxi stand.
“I ain’t a bad person, officer. I’ve been taken in for little things. I drink too much, I guess, but I’ve never done anything bad. Just thought you might want to know that.”
“Sure.”
“Well, maybe we’ll see each other again. I’ll be the guy with the new shoes.”
Henry smiled like a child who had gotten a new baseball bat or a trumpet, some gift that increased possibilities and had not been used enough to know its limitations.
Henry
opened the door, got out, and stood on the sidewalk waiting for
Sam
to drive away. He didn’t leave while
Sam
was there.
Sam
leaned toward the open window on the passenger side so that he could see
Henry
’s face.
“Don’t trade those shoes,
Henry
. Not for wine, anyway.”
“No sir.”
Sam straightened and waved as he drove off. No one could see the wave, not Henry or anyone else.
Chapter 19
There were two customers in the Donut Shop. One was an old woman who came in every day at
nine o’clock
for coffee and a plain doughnut—if not every day, at least for the five days
Maria
had worked there. The other was a young boy she had not seen before. He had come early in the morning but sat off by himself and did not mingle with the other kids. He bought a doughnut and ate it immediately. When the others left, he remained and sat looking out the window. His clothes were dirty, but recently so.
Pierre watched him but didn’t talk to him. He sat on a stool close to the wall on the kitchen side of the counter with the newspaper open in front of him. He was making little progress and had been on the same page for a long time. She found chores that kept her as far from him as possible.
The door opened and another boy came in.
Pierre
glanced at him, recognized him she was certain, but said nothing.
Maria
waited for him at the register.
“Coke,” the boy said. He wore an orange baseball cap pulled down so low on his forehead that she could hardly see his eyes.
“Large or small?”
Maria
asked.
“Big.”
She filled the paper cup with ice as
Pierre
had shown her so that it would look full with only a little liquid in it. She put the cup on the counter, but the boy made no movement to take out money. That no longer surprised her. He looked at
Pierre
, who reluctantly nodded approval. He picked up the cup and headed for the door.
Pierre
folded his paper in half and laid it on the counter as though he had finished reading.
The boy stopped. There was another person at the door.
Sam
Wright
the policeman stood directly in his path and made no effort to step aside.
“
Richard
Rutherford
,”
Sam
said. “Getting your breakfast,
Richard
?”
The boy didn’t answer, but he stiffened his back like an alley cat trapped in a corner.
Pierre
watched the policeman and seemed to forget she was there. His face hardened into a scowl, unlike the expression he had given the other policemen. The other young boy shifted restlessly in his chair. There was no place for him to go either. The old woman was pleased to see the policeman—the only one who had that reaction. Everyone had a response to the policeman.
“Let me get the door for you,
Richard
,”
Sam
said. “I see you’re just leaving.”
He opened the door and stood to the side—barely to the side. The boy he called
Richard
started forward, but there was no resolve in his steps, as if the boy thought he would not make it outside.
Sam
made the boy pass close to him and slip by sideways.
“Good to see you again,
Richard
,” he said as the boy passed him.
She didn’t see the boy once he was outside.
Sam
came toward the counter, and
Pierre
reopened his paper. He sat on a stool close to
Pierre
.