the_last_day kerry it was my last shift on the outreach team. i wish mike was working. but he is in arkansas seeing his little girl. he misses her, has shown me pictures. goddamn, look at those curls, i’d said when i saw her. lucky girl. he is a young father. he said she told him she was afraid to start first grade, but he reminded her any time she wanted to call she could, and anything she ever needed from him she had it, and your daddy is here for you even if i’m far away, you can tell me absolutely anything. we were walking through baggage claim C in our bright orange vests. keep saying things like that to her, i said, my eyes stinging a bit. tell her explicitly that she can talk to you, even if you think she already knows it. he nodded. my dad was raised by marines, i said, so beneath the hugs and jokes he’s pretty macho. and you pass that shit down—it affects you. he nodded again. i know some about mike’s dad. i didn’t need to say anything else. outside we saw judy who likes to sit in a wheelchair in the sun. she’s the one who started the teddy bear thing. she’s right, though. i will miss judy. when she’d see me coming she’d wave instead of hide. one time she asked me and matt if it was ok if it was okay for her to call us her kids and we said you bet. she took a photo of us on her phone and sent it to her husband who she claimed used to be a bodybuilder. she looks good in turquoise; i wish i’d told her that. in the van we sat at the purple lot eating snacks and drinking coffee from wawa. he talked to me about his love life. he’d told me before how he has a problem with being the nice guy—i thought you were supposed to treat your woman like a queen, he says, treat her with respect and love and give her everything she needs but women seem to just want to be treated like trash, they like games. i don’t get it, that ain’t me. i’m a big teddy bear. he’d sounded a little sheepish that time he said he had a thing for white women. he said it’s the hair, something about that long soft hair, it just gets to me. we were driving to the shelter on cherry street and he was staring straight ahead at the road. he chuckled and added, well i like all kinds of women, to be honest. mike said, you know i try those dating apps and it doesn’t work, they just scroll on past me. and look, i know i’m not the hottest guy, i’m no stunner—i’m pretty average. but man those things make me feel bad. hope it’s okay for me to say this as your friend, mike, i said, but i think you’re a good looking guy. give yourself a break. and i don’t know about white women, only myself, but there are crazies everywhere, you know? crazies of all stripes. and that woman with her kid’s daddy still sleeping in her bed, i said, i dunno why you’re putting up with that shit. and that other one you mentioned, i gotta be honest mike, it makes me mad to hear about this stuff, these women are garbage. i promise you not all women want to be dragged around and played with. these people just want to have their cake and eat it too. he shook his head and laughed a sad laugh. you sound like my sisters, he said. they told me to watch out especially for that one. you listen to your sisters, i said. they care and they sound like they know what they’re talking about. i was walking to the bus stop when i saw judy again. she stopped me. hey, you! i said. and she smiled. whatchoo doing? she asked. the 37 just came. came and went, passed me right on by. i said i’m catching the bus home, nothing to do around here. she looked confused. you need something? i asked. need to go somewhere? i’d give you a bus pass but i don’t have any on me. hmm. she tilted her head to one side, then the next. one big pure white tooth hooked on her lip. you want to go somewhere, judy? want me to shoot wes a text? he just left. but someone will be back here in a couple hours. corey, maybe. you know him? she asked if he’s her teddy bear, and i say nah, that’s mike. corey’s even taller, big guy, basketball player. you’d know him. she came to stand beside me, still gazing off into the distance, then said, sure you send him a text, you tell him judy says hi to all her children. i sent the text, then said, i told him you said you love him, that okay? we both laughed because of course it’s okay. judy started digging through her fanny-pack, finally produced a one-way ticket. i knew i had one on me! she said. can’t keep track of a damn thing lately, seems like. i gestured to my own bag, a torn canvas tote packed full of random what-ifs. i get it, i said, look at this mess, it’s embarrassing. she giggled and looked at me so sweetly, not at all how she looked at me the first time we met, with understandable suspicion and resentment. the 108 pulled up just as wes called me back. whatcha need, darlin? he said. i watched judy hop onto the bus and scramble toward the back. sorry to pester you, i said to wes, she’s gone, she dipped. as the bus pulled way she waved at me, a big full-armed wave, like someone waving a handkerchief from the window of a train. see you next week, i’d said to her. habit. 211001 ... epitome of incomprehensibility I love this snapshot even if I don't get the whole context. You have a knack for building characters just with dialogue and a few words of description. Man. 211001 ... tender square i agree with e_o_i, kerry. the connection between the characters here through their conversations about relationships is quite affecting. 211002 ... kerry thanks so much. :) to me relationships are almost or maybe more interesting than context. (for context, i've been doing homeless outreach at the airport/street outreach. it's a weird job to allude to without explanation!) 211002 what's it to you? who go blather from