graybeards: He caught my eye the moment I walked in. Pushing into his fifties, he dressed well for a
graybeards: He caught my eye the moment I walked in. Pushing into his fifties, he dressed well for a married man: a white buttoned shirt, tan sports coat, and a sharp pair of jeans. Dressed up enough that he looked important, but he was confident enough to be comfortable. He was near the door, but I walked right by him. I didn’t look homeless, but the staff would figure it out so I had to work fast. There was a group of three women eating toward the front who looked promising, but they didn’t even look up when they sharply replied, “No.” A pair of guys, not likely but I tried. A few people on their own who were hard to read. No, no, no. I felt my hand shaking with nerves. The rejection wasn’t hard, but they didn’t even look at me. They pretended I didn’t exist, that I wasn’t a human being standing in front of them. It was soul-crushing.He was the only one left. My last chance. I almost walked right by him; I couldn’t stand it if he sneered at me. But what did I have to lose?“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said softly as I walked up beside him, “but I’m really hungry. Could you spare a dollar or two?”He didn’t stop typing as his eyes rose, a familiar look of annoyance on his face. I gritted my teeth. “Sorry, I don’t have any…” he trailed off as he looked at me. His features softened as he appraised me and asked, “How old are you?”“Nineteen, sir,” I replied.“How did you end up doing this?” He asked, but before I could answer, the store manager rushed up and said sharply, “You need to leave.” I smiled sadly at the older man and started toward the door, but he held up a halting hand and said, “No, he doesn’t.” The manager explained, “This space is for customers only.” He reached in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a $20 bill that he stuffed in the manager’s hands as he said, “Then his lunch is on me. What do you want?” They both looked at me.I stammered, “Uhh, t-the club sandwich.” The older man added, “And chips and a drink. And I’ll have my change.” He turned from the manager, closed his laptop, and nodded at me to the seat across from him. “Why did you do that?” I asked incredulously as I sat down.“I wanted to finish our conversation,” he said calmly. “So tell me why you’re begging.”“Usual story, I guess. Parents kicked me out when I was fifteen and I’ve been on my own since.”“That’s awful,” he said evenly. I shrugged, “It is what it is.”He reached out his hand and said, “I’m Mark.” I took it and replied, “Sam.” We shook. His fingers lingered on mine before parting. “Why did your parents…?”I laughed in a high voice and smirked at him, “You know why.”“I assumed,” Mark nodded. We were quiet as the manager returned with a tray of food and Mark’s change. He didn’t say anything as he waited for the sneering employee to leave. As I started to eat, he told me, “My son was terrified when he came out to us.”“Why?” I asked, covering my mouth.“I’m not exactly the most liberal guy,” he confided. “It wasn’t like I was working against gay rights, but… well, I understand why it was scary for him.”“What happened?”“What should have happened for you, kid,” he said sadly. “We told him we loved him. There have been rough times, especially with my work, but I do my best.”“Well,” I forced a smile, “good for him.”Mark reached across the table and put his hand on mine. He squeezed my fingers and whispered, “You’re cute. You know that?”“I do,” I answered, staring back and forth from his hand to his face. “It’s how I’ve gotten by.”“You could get by better, Sam.” He stroked my hand. I blushed and muttered, “Thanks for lunch, but I think I should…” He released my hand when I pulled away.“How about dinner tonight?” Sam suggested.“Don’t you have to get home? I don’t think I’m dressed for that anyway.”He pulled a shred of paper from his pocket and scribbled something down on it. “I stay in a condo downtown during the week. Meet me at this address at five o’clock. You can shower and borrow some of my son’s clothes.”I took the address when he pressed it into my palm. “Why are you doing this?” I asked suspiciously.“You seem like a good kid,” he said, adding in an undertone, “and you deserve better than blowing guys for pennies in alleyways.”After a long pause, I decided. “I’ll see you at five, then.” Mark grinned happily and said, “Good boy.” -- source link