The Rough Sleeper

I lay across the park bench, watching a handful of
people walking past. It was, after all, only about midday and an ordinary day in early spring. The trees were beginning to bloom, but there was still a nip in the air. Easter was already over, school holidays were over and people were back at work.

Except me, I reflected, dourly, as the morning was already beginning to stretch endlessly before me. This was the beginning of my new existence. I had stormed out of my home some twenty-four hours earlier, after a blazing row with my partner. Going back to my parents was no
option, as they had disapproved of him from the start and had subsequently disowned me, when I moved in with him. All my friends were married or in relationships themselves and there was no question of my sleeping on their sofas for even one night. I was on my own.

I relayed the previous day's events in my mind. Dave was a lazy, dominant partner. In all the six months that I had lived with him, he had never made an effort to find a job and saw nothing wrong in claiming benefits. I had no job, either, but, at least, I was looking for one, albeit without much success. He had got angry with me on the previous night because I had arrived home much later than usual. I had told him that I had been continuing looking for a job in order to help us move out of the tiny bedsit that we shared into a more comfortable one-bedroomed flat, but he would not listen. He suspected me of having an affair and had even grabbed my mobile in order to search for any unfamiliar, stored names. Although he could not find any, he still did not believe me and threw my mobile against the wall. That was when I had had enough and had stormed out of the bedsit.

I had not eaten any breakfast. In all the emotion of the previous day's argument, I had lost my appetite, but now I was hungry and the smell of cooked food from the
cafe in the park reached my nostrils like a warm caress and I fumbled in my purse for a pound - enough to buy me one roll and a cup of coffee. A glance at the mirror in my handbag showed that I still looked clean and tidy. If I continued to maintain a reasonable appearance, I would not frighten any of the customers in the cafe and would still be served by the staff there. I entered the cafe, trying to look as calm and relaxed as the customers inside and outside.

"One roll and a cup of white coffee with two sugars, please."

The girl who served me did not even look at me properly. She just shoved the items before me and silently took my coins. That is how I want to be, I thought, invisible. I just want to walk away from the world.

I finished my breakfast in ten minutes and spent the rest of the day wondering what to do with myself. Around me, the world continued, everyone walking to and fro, towards a goal, having a purpose to their routine. I just sat in the park, the scene around me unchanging. Few people looked at me. To them, I looked like some sort of layabout, looking for things to happen to her rather than for her to go and look for things. This was going to be the pattern of my life, I thought, wryly. It was only Tuesday and I could not collect any social security until Friday? What was I going to do with myself for another three days?

I bought a tabloid newspaper and scoured for jobs, but with the previous days' aggravation still racing around in my head, the print on the pages swam before my eyes and I could not concentrate. Besides, most of the jobs required references which I did not have or stamina which I would never acquire. Also, I no longer had a fixed abode. That was required by most employers. I angrily threw the newspaper into the nearest refuse bin. I could not think of anything. That is what it was like to be homeless. Of course, you could get used to that and I heard of many people surviving without a home, but I was not the type of person who could do that. I closed my eyes and waited to die. If the winter would come and I would continue living like that, then maybe death would come and it would be a relief.