Sadly, an Interior Design

I Remember Tiger Lil & Brandi

The Ghost Terraces

Agnes 1.3

Valentine

On my way home from work tonight, I passed the elderly, homeless man in front of Books Inc at Opera Plaza. He's something of a regular, telling everyone who passes 'Have a good evening'. He's been there for years, sitting in his wheelchair with his book on his lap. Last fall he suddenly disappeared from his spot and after three weeks I went into the bookstore and inquired of his whereabouts. "He's in the hospital," the clerk said. "He was shot in the head." Horrified, I then got some erroneous information from the clerk but he did tell me one truth, that the man was still alive. For weeks I would pass his spot and wonder how he was doing, neglecting my intention to visit him in the hospital. A vague guilt seemed to plagued me near that section of the block but then it'd disappear, just as much of life with strangers goes. A few weeks ago he reappeared, seemingly well or as well as can be expected. I'd see him talking to people whenever I'd pass so it was a few days before I had a chance to talk to him myself. He was hit by a bullet by a shooter a quarter a block away. He isn't sure but he thinks he was caught in crossfire because it seems the guy was shooting at someone behind him. He doesn't remember more. The shooter hasn't been caught. On the operating table he had a heart attack and he said he was told he died four times. Yet they continued to work on him. He had a three inch wedge of his brain removed from the right front of his head. He removed his cap to show me and sure enough, a wound that looked like an Hawaiian crater emerged, slightly swollen but fully healed, black shiny skin pulled tight around the hole. His silver kinky hair avoided growing in the area but he was already going bald so the patch seemed natural. I asked if he noticed any impairment. He said no but after awhile, he repeated sentences two or three times. His eyes would dart around, more than before the assault, but that may be a PTSD reaction of some sort. For the most part he seemed good, incredibly resilient and close to miraculous. I told him I was glad to see him, that the block didn't feel right without him. He smiled. Then he said "The doctor asked me if I saw a light when I died. I told him no, no, no light. But I did feel my ass burning up!" He burst into a big glorious hoot of a laugh, his Southern drawl even apparent in that sound. "Boy that was scary!" We faced each other laughing for a few minutes. Then I said goodbye. I had a big smile on my face as I walked away and could hear him say "Goodnight, goodnight" behind me. When I looked back he was already engaged with another passerby. That was weeks ago. Tonight I saw him again and as usual he said "Have a good evening" like he does to all strangers. But then his eyes widened, the whites glowing bright in recognition and he said to me "And for you, Happy Valentines Day!" Sweet. Posted on Facebook 2/14/14