When he stood in front of me with his black leather jacket, greasy hair, and large skull tattoo on his neck, I thought for sure he was gonna try and rob the tent I found. So, I did the first thing any sane and homeless person would do when he approached me. I punched him in the face...
“You pack quite the punch for such a little dude.” Shaking his head, Gunner laughs while cradling his jaw with his bony hand.
The sarcastic chuckle leaves my lips before I even process the irony. “I find that hilarious since you’re obviously like five years older than I am, but just about the same size.”
A strand of Gunner’s jet black hair falls over his eyebrow piercing.
“You just go around punching strangers in the face?” His dark eyes have a bit of menace to them, but he recovers quickly and returns to a friendlier demeanor.
“You gotta shoot first and ask questions later living out here, man.” I cross my arms over my chest and shrug.
He steps closer to me. I assume he’s around 6’1”, but I’ve got about two inches on him and more muscle.
Gunner looks me over, sizing me up. “What if you didn’t have to? What if I told you that I know a way you can continue punching people and actually get paid for it?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. The smell of the lighter and acrid tobacco singes my nostrils as I wait for him to continue.
I raise my eyebrow at him as he exhales. “You could make a ton of cash fighting these rich chumps who think their cocks are made of brass. Typical rich and privileged party boys with a God complex. Most of ’em can’t fight for shit, so it’ll be an easy win, and you can get yourself off the street and somewhere stable.”
I pretend to think about it for a minute. “Thanks, but no thanks.” I point my thumb towards the tent next to mine. “I’ll take my chances with my neighbor Charlie.” I continue in a whisper, “He’s got a crossbow.”
A look of confusion crosses his face, but he shakes it off.“Unless you’re expecting a zombie apocalypse, Charlie won’t help you any more than sitting on your ass in this tent will. Trust me, kid, you won’t regret it.”
So I took him up on his offer, and I got by for four years. Fighting earned me enough money to chip in and help my best friend, Morgan, with some groceries and utility bills while I crashed with him. It helped in some ways but almost cost me my life. Well, that, and a fiery redhead named Gelissa.
I need to move. Being on the go so much growing up makes it very hard to just stay put. It’s almost as if my body hasn’t caught up with the fact I’ve settled down in this small two-bedroom apartment.
This two-family house is owned by Sayeed, my boss and landlord. He left Pakistan and came to the States thirty years ago and owns the 7-Eleven where I work. He offered me a job and a place to live with very low rent.
I pick up my boots and side-eye Magnet, trying to decide whether he’s over his resentment towards me for almost costing him one of his nine lives.
“Let’s go see what trouble we can get into tonight, my guy.” I rub his head, and he purrs, swiping his side up against my leg a few times.
Just as I grab my wallet, a piercing pain penetrates my ankle. “Fuck! You bit me, you little shit!”
He strolls off in front of me, heading towards the door. I guess he isn’t over it. I roll my eyes and grab my keys off the entrance table. “I’ll give you that one, you serpent, but only because I did kinda deserve it.”
I open the door for us and step out into the night. The cool September breeze decides exactly where I--or we--need to be. The beach.
◆◆◆
“It’s not a damn litter box!” I whisper yell to Magnet as he kicks the sand over and hides all traces of evidence.
Whatever, it’s not like anyone digs under the docks anyway. And, well, I do see where the confusion may lie.
I live about three blocks from the beach, so I visit often. But the close proximity isn’t the only reason I find myself navigating towards the sand and ocean. It’s the serenity, the peace, especially at night.
The beach is the one place that, no matter the weather, the time, the day, the condition of the world...is always beautiful. The ocean is the most wide-open entity; you can see it for miles, but somehow it still harbors the most secrets.
You can only see the surface of the beauty it holds from the shore, but underneath the glittering moonlight mirrored over the quiet, dancing waves is a whole world not for us. A whole world that exists without our help but is slowly dying by no fault of its own.
The blame lies solely in the hands of humans.
We’re sitting far enough from the shore to not get wet but close enough to watch the waves slowly pull back into the abyss they came from. One minute you see it, the next it’s gone, blending completely with the rest of the water and never knowing which part it was that swept the shoreline.
There’s no doubt there’s a far more beautiful ocean somewhere else in the world...with far nicer sand, fish, and trees. Somewhere that would probably make Coney Island Beach look like the ocean’s personal toilet bowl, but here’s the thing. I’m nowhere else but here right now.
And I find beauty in the imperfections because that’s where the truth lies.
Calling it a night around
