Making Money

What does it mean when a homeless person says they have been out making money? It creates doubt in ones mind as to the nature of the work they have been doing, the tasks they perform to make money are not the same as yours or mine nine to five.

I know a homeless woman, a year older than myself. I first met her on my way to the grocery store, I stopped to ask her directions, in turn she asked me if I had change. It is my habit, which I am thinking of changing, to not give change to those who ask for it, instead I offer a meal or a drink.

The first thing I noticed about this woman was her resemblance to Lauren Hill, I now call her Lauren Hill whenever I see her, and to this she always smiles. Truthfully her smile, which she didn’t wear at the time, was the reason I bolded myself to ask her for directions. I find it easier to admit needing help to a pretty female face rather than a sharp, unsmiling, unsympathetic male face. Enough practice allows me to see a smile before it is even shown to me. I told her honestly that I did not have change and we left it at that, going our separate ways. I saw her again, coming back from the store, she asked if I found the store okay.

I had the time to think over my encounter with Lauren Hill, thought about her appearance and all the things I noticed about her, but did not have time to analyze until later. It was obvious to me that she needed the change, not for a bus ride, or for a non-necessity but instead she needed it for food. Although her smile, which I still had not seen at that point, was beautiful, her clothing, her face, even the way that she spoke was tired and ageing. It seemed as if her youthfulness had all but left her body.

In the most humble and un humiliating way I could manage I inquired if she was hungry. She admitted that she was, and I offered her a sandwich from around the corner. Inside the convince store we stood in front of the sandwiches, I could feel her hesitation in picking a sandwich, she was concerned with pricing and not wanting to wear thin my generosity she asked what was okay for her to pick. I let her know she was free to pick any sandwich, and left her to make her choice. I picked out an Orange Juice for her, and we left the convince store.

Outside I felt as if I owed her an explanation for my generosity, even I did not fully understand why I had behaved the way I did. It was not the first time I had ever helped one less fortunate than myself with a meal, it was not even the most expensive meal I had ever given, and I know it wont be the last. However, it was the first time I had ever helped someone so young. Admittedly, a part of me did it because I wanted to see her smile, if only once, so that I could see if my hunch was right. We sat outside the convince store as she ate her meal, we talked lightly about ourselves. I picked this time to let her know that my generosity was not at the cost of something malicious, I wanted her to be at ease with me and not feel as if I would ask anything in return. Never before have I had to say anything like that, but that time I felt it was right.

She turned to me, smiled at me for the first time since I met her. Suddenly shy she put her head down and looked hard at the street “Yeah, there are a lot of perverted guys out there.” Before she had even finished her meal, I got up to leave and go about my way. Her face was a mix of surprise and disappointment, she showed more emotion than I think she was aware. “You are leaving?” I couldn’t sit and stay any longer, she was close to done and she had put a small cardboard sign out in front of her self. I could not see the words, and I did not have to. It was the way I felt sitting behind that cardboard sign that made me want to leave.

I nodded my head to her, reaffirming my words from earlier to her that after she finished eating I would be on my way. We waved goodbye to each other. I still see Ms. Lauren Hill from time to time, in a different places all around DC. Every time she sees me, she turns on her smile and waves at me. On the bus we sit and talk together light conversation about nothing special. She always tells me that she has been out making money, and I always wonder what she means. The bus rides are never long enough for me to ask, and I almost feel as if I would be rude to do so.

“This is my stop Alexander I’ll see you around.” She smiles as she gets up from next to me. As she stands by the back doors of the bus waiting to get off she stares outside readying herself for something I have no idea about. The doors open and she looks over her shoulder for one more smile and one more wave, and then she’s gone.