Before long,
Renardo and Corinne skirted the edges of Old Sacramento and approached the
Sacramento River. The expansive mass of
water was placid, reflecting the tiered buildings and the yellow and rust
colors of the leaf-laden trees. Soon the
sound of hoofs reached the friends’ ears, and in the distance they saw a
horse-drawn buggy dragging along a dirt road.
Corinne halted near a bus stop and turned to her right. Her eyes moved toward the sky, and Renardo
followed her gaze. Behind Old Sacramento
loomed a titanic building constructed of grey stone and wide, dark windows that
linked to each other with no apparent wall between them. At the crest of the rectangular edifice
protruded the building’s cap, its four sloped sides leading to a flat
summit. Corinne examined the construct
and said, “It looks like they finally finished that new building.”
“Yeah.”
“What is it
called, again?”
“Con Sumo
Tower. I think the words are Mandarin.”
“No, silly,”
Corinne chortled, pushing him lightly.
“I remember now. It’s Consumo Tower. You know, as in Consumo Industries. I think they’re some kind of life insurance
company.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yep. So what do you think of it?”
“The building?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s kind of
a weird question.” He looked more closely at it, paying special heed to the top
of the structure. “Well, it’s really
tall. I’d say maybe three to four
hundred feet taller than the buildings around it. Not something you’d want to fall off of.”
Corinne laughed. “You’re right about that. It’s just irritating that—” She stopped
abruptly when something caught her attention.
Before Renardo could ask her what it was, she walked briskly away from
him. Rather than follow her, he watched
her to see what had so suddenly captured her interest. To his horror, she addressed a homeless man
on a bench. He was curled up in a ball,
his face was dirty and stubbly, and he wore a stained grey sweatshirt, loose
jeans, and some scuffed tennis shoes.
His long brown hair fell to his shoulders, oily and unkempt. His face was tanned and gaunt. A green bag lay in a shopping cart beside
him, which was pushed against a stone wall crowned by a swath of grass and
trees.
“Hello, sir, how
are you today?” Corinne asked him.
The man avoided
eye contact with her. “Oh, y’know, not
too bad. Sun’s out a little bit
today. But times are hard, y’know. And it don’t look like times are
changing. But it could be worse. I could be somewhere it’s cold all the time.”
“Yes, that’s
true. Imagine if you were in Alaska! Now that
would be something.”
The man shook
his head. “Lady, I wouldn’t favor that
none. Too much snow and ice.”
“Yeah, for
sure.” Renardo nearly fell over with anxiety when she sat down on the bench
beside the man. “So do you hang out in
this spot often?”
“No. My friend Paul (he’s in the park over there
on O Street), he’s mad at me. We got in
a fight ‘cause I called him a drunk. The
fool drinks too much, I tell ya. All the
money he spends on beer, he coulda bought a bike by now. You get one of them, lady, and you c’n go
wherever you like. But he won’t listen
to me. He’s a drunk, ya know. Drinks too damn much.”
“I’m sorry to
hear that about your friend,” said Corinne.
“I hope that you two can work it out.
It sounds like you’re good friends.”
“Yes, yes, we’re
good friends. We’re old friends. But he’s just a lousy drunk!”
Corinne’s face
fell with genuine sympathy. “Sir, you
look cold. Do you like coffee? I haven’t
touched mine, and you can have it, if you want.”
The homeless
man’s eyes tightened suspiciously as he studied her face. “Oh, coffee!” His body relaxed as he took the
cup from her and clasped it tightly.
“Thought you said ‘toffee’ like the stuff they sell in Ol’ Sac. Don’t like that stuff none, I tell ya.” He
took a sip of the beverage and winced.
“Ow, dat hot! Good, though. Maybe
I’ll save some for Paul, but he’s prolly drunk, the oaf. Thank you! Are you with a church or
somethin’?”
“No, I’m not
here with my church,” she answered, continuing to look at him with sympathy in
her eyes. “You know, sir, why don’t you
take my scarf? That is, if you don’t mind the bright red. I don’t really need it, and I think it’ll
help you more than it helps me.” She unwrapped the warm cloth from her neck and
placed it in the man’s hands.
“Lord, it’s like
Christmas!” he exclaimed, slapping his thigh and beaming. “This’ll keep me warm for a year!”
“I hope it
does.” She reached out her hand. “I’m
Corinne. It’s nice to meet you.”
He accepted her
hand and shook it with an awkward motion.
“I’m Frederick! Oh, I wish Paul was here so he could meet you, but like
as not he’s drunk at the park. I tell
him to stop, but he don’t listen.”
Corinne glanced
over her shoulder at Renardo, who had been nervously striking the ground with
his toe the entire conversation. “Well,
Frederick, I need to get going, but I hope you have a good day! Try to stay
warm!”
“I will ma’am,
thanks!”
She left the
man’s side and returned to her friend.
They continued their walk toward the river, and Renardo looked at her
quizzically.
“What is it?”
she asked him.
“Oh, I guess I’m
just not used to seeing people help out bums like that. I’m especially surprised that you gave him
coffee and your scarf. That sure was nice of you.”
“Nice?” She
cocked her head to the side. “Um, I
suppose so. I felt compelled to, I guess
you can say. It’s sort of natural. I do it as often as I can.”
“Hm….” Renardo
nodded, but he appeared uncertain about something.
“What? Do you
have some kind of problem with someone helping a homeless person?”
“No, no, not at
all. I have a problem with me helping a homeless person. I can’t help but think things like, ‘What if
this person is just pretending to be
homeless? What if I give this person money, and he just goes and buys alcohol
and gets wasted? I might do more harm than good.’ Don’t you ever think of
things like that?”
“Sometimes. But
if I let those thoughts dictate my actions, I would never help anyone. It’s really easy to overthink things. There’s such a thing as ‘too much reason,’
you know. Because at some point, it can
outweigh your emotion. And when that
happens…well, all you have to do is look around to see the result.”
They were now
drawing near to the Tower Bridge, and Renardo stopped. He looked at Corinne and said, “You know,
you’re a very intelligent and sweet person.”
Corinne averted
her gaze from him and blushed. “Well,
um, thank you.”
“You’re
different, and a little weird, but it’s refreshing.” He thought that his heart
might burst from his chest and fall on the sidewalk between them. What a poor way to end a nice morning that
would be, he thought. They had enjoyed
each other’s company for a couple hours, but he felt that he could connect with
her in a way he could never really connect with anyone. Even when he had moved away from home a few
years ago to “start a new life” and make new friends, he could never find that
one person with whom he could talk about arbitrary subjects, rant, and
laugh. Surely, it was too early to start
a relationship with this woman, but perhaps he could find a way to ensure that
they meet consistently. Was it really
possible to make her a regular part of his life, and also hunt for Malvin? What
would she think if she heard the story of the agony that wicked man had caused
so many families of Sacramento? Would she react as Nathan had? He took a breath
and decided that this was a girl whom he would love to know more deeply. She was more than worthy of his time.
“So I was
thinking….Um, if you’d like to—and I hope I don’t sound too aggressive or
anything when I say this—maybe we can meet for coffee once a week or something?
I mean, this has been a lot of fun so far.
I like talking about things with you, and I feel like I could learn a
lot from you. Maybe some of your
goodness can rub off on me.”
“It’s not like
you’re bad, Renardo,” she told him. “I’m
sure there is plenty of good in you. It
just comes out in different ways, depending on the person.”
“Maybe.” He
plunged his hands into his pockets, something he often did when he was
nervous. “So, what do you think about
the coffee thing? Would you like that?”
She paused. “Well, today has been a lot of fun. You’re right about that. And I like the many things we discussed over
coffee and while we went for a walk.
But, well….”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know if
it’d be a good idea to do that regularly.”
“Um…may I ask
why?” Renardo was puzzled. She obviously
had a good time, thought he was funny, and loved his stories. Was it his appearance? He thought he was
rather attractive, and had heard compliments throughout his life that agreed
with his opinion. What could it be?
“Well, I guess
you didn’t notice this.” She held up her left hand and revealed a ring that
glistened in the sunlight. “I’m married,
Renardo.”
“I did notice that,” he said, “but women
wear so many rings today, it’s hard to tell if they’re married or not.”
She said
nothing.
“So, you’re
married, then.” He tried to hide his fury.
More than anything, he wanted to return home and unleash a series of
punches on his practice dummy. He was
never good at handling rejection.
“Yes, I am,” she
responded.
“Happily married?”
Her eyebrows
furrowed. “Yes, though I don’t know how it’s
of any concern of yours, I’m happily married.”
“Really?”
Renardo’s tone was now challenging. “Is
that why you were crying before you walked into the diner earlier?”
She glared at him
and shook her head. Her face reddened,
and tears formed in her eyes again. “I
need to get going. I should be back home
by now, anyway.” Without another word, she stormed away toward the east,
retracing the route they had taken to get to the area.
Renardo groaned
and leaned against a tree. He watched as
she disappeared into the chaos of cars, construction, and careless pedestrians. Of course she was married. He cycled through numerous women he had
attempted to date throughout the years, and scowled to himself when he recalled
how many times they had rejected him. He
was only in his late twenties, but he seriously pondered whether a woman would
ever choose to be by his side. Perhaps
it was not his lot, at this time in his life, to be in a relationship. Perhaps he was fated to end Malvin’s unholy
reign of terror before focusing on his personal life. So be it.
He should stop while he was ahead, and do his best to forget his
feelings for Corinne and the time they had spent together. He did not really need her, anyway. He wanted her, and a desire can be forgotten
while a need cannot.
Even so, he
realized, there was no justification for talking to her the way he had. In this time of her life, she was fragile,
and the piercing words of a new friend were something she did not need. At some point he would need to apologize to
her, and at that time he would explain to her that he understood her reasons
for not wishing to meet regularly. That
would be the end of it. Apologizing
would be his way of cutting off their connection. He sighed and walked back toward Sacramento,
hating himself for his poor choice of words in the last few sentences he had
spoken to his friend.
“Renardo, you’re
such an idiot,” he muttered, his words drowned out by the city’s cacophony.
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