Along my journey through homelessness, I met many people—some only brief encounters. Still afraid of my own shadow, I was cautious. Most saw me as an opportunity, someone to use or manipulate. I had an income, a car, a plan. I was going to get out as soon as I could. I refused to become like them—seasoned, almost comfortable in homelessness. That wasn’t in the cards for me. I planned on fighting like hell to get a roof over my head.
I met Aaron, Carrie, and AJ at the motel where I found myself staying. They were in a room a few doors down—a young couple with a baby. I couldn’t imagine how they managed, the three of them and all their belongings crammed into one tiny room. They were both unemployed, recently thrown out of the apartment they once lived in. I felt sorry for them, raising a child in the middle of all that chaos.
Before long, I started helping when I could. Small things at first—shoes for the baby, cigarettes when they were short on cash, sometimes food. We shared meals, smoked weed, and passed the time together. It helped with the loneliness, helped the days go by.
Aaron helped me when my car started having problems. At one point, my battery died, and when we jumped it, I blew the computer. Unfortunately, that computer controlled my windows. The windows and sunroof were stuck half open—miserable when it rained and unsafe since everything I owned was stored in the car. Nothing worth stealing, or so I thought. The turn signals stopped working, the headlights were temperamental, and a handful of other issues followed. The repair shop quoted me nearly $400 to fix it—money I didn’t have.
Aaron did some research and found a cheaper solution. I took a chance, and it worked. What I didn’t realize was that he expected to be compensated. I already knew I needed a new car—the check engine light blinked at me every time I drove. The repair would’ve been expensive, and I didn’t want to sink more money into it. I drove it as it was and prayed it would last long enough for me to afford something else.
A month passed, and our friendship grew. I gave them rides to the store and helped as much as I could. In return, they fed me dinner most nights, and a few times I was able to stay with them when I couldn’t afford a room.
Then came the accident—the day that felt like the end of the world. It wasn’t something Aaron could fix, and not even playing with AJ could distract me. The car was totaled. My insurance had lapsed, which meant I was on the hook unless I figured something out fast. Going through the other driver’s insurance worked. No one knew I was uninsured, and since the accident was entirely their fault, luck was finally on my side.
The check came a few weeks later—enough to replace the car and still have money left for an apartment deposit. Aaron immediately offered to help me find a new vehicle. He suggested that instead of taking the scrap value from the insurance company, I could give the old car to him for that amount. He said he’d pay me. The car was useless to me, so I agreed.
We found a new car, I set aside money for an apartment, and I handed him the keys. It all seemed simple—until I asked for the money. He’d had the car for over a month and had been using it, but he refused to pay. Instead, he told me I owed him for his help.
That’s when I learned their friendship came at a price—and that price was a free car.
I still find myself wondering about them: how they’re doing, whether they ever found a place or if they’re still motel surfing. I heard they both found jobs and had an income, and I had to be satisfied with that. The bridge was burned.
Some bridges don’t need rebuilding,
K.
I'm Still Here. Somehow... 