I’d found Al folded into the countertop, clothes thick and snug. I guessed he was asleep, until the loudspeakers belched that Mission Possible was closing in half an hour—he lifted his head like a tired snake.
Al is a slim black man, wiry across the chest and arms. His skin is supple and young, a dark mahogany. His forehead, covered by a brown cap, carves into long cheeks and a round jaw. Stubble encircles his thick lips and spurts from his chin in a black tangle. It’s his eyes that startled me: knit eyes, hooded over with skin under furrowed eyebrows that seem so still, beyond even bitterness. His eyes and solemn lips bored into me, unblinking, with an intent emptiness.
He asked me why I was here, and I told him about my intent to find out more truths about homelessness. I asked him tentatively if I could hear his personal story… and he agreed, silently.
I guess I saw why. Al was the first homeless person that I spoke with for this entire project, and our conversation was a slap into reality for me. He said that he absolutely chooses to live homeless, flat-out told me that he uses the funds from the house he rents out in order to buy drugs. But at the same time, his eyes were so empty. His voice was so dead. I felt a curious combination of pity, shock and a strained happiness for him—happy that he says he’s content, but sad for him because I don’t think it’s the healthiest kind of fulfillment. My personal beliefs in contradiction with his.
His is a case that already disproves my belief that not a single person chooses homelessness. I guess I’ll have to wait and see if this is more common than I originally thought.
After we finished talking, we hugged, with some deep understanding between us. I seriously felt like I’d known him for way longer than an hour and half. I guess sharing and learning a whole life story will do that to you.
Excited and scared for what’s to come.
–Isabella, 9/26/16
← Read Al’s Story