Bread for My Baby

After work, I’m standing on the corner of 10th and Juniper, waiting for Clyde to join me before walking on to Mulan for dinner.

A block away, I spot short, scrappy fellow walking toward me at a brisk pace. His hair is twisted into dusty braids. He’s wearing a ragged Army jacket and dirty jeans. There’s something peculiar about his gait; as he walks, his shoulders roll from side to side.

He spots me, too — and he immediately veers in my direction, walking toward me just as fast as he can.

This doesn’t bother me. Here in Midtown, the homeless and the street people are always with us. At least three or four times a week, I’m approached by someone asking for a dollar. At least once a week, I run into a professional swindler, running the latest scam: “I’m just out of prison or just out of the hospital or just passing through, and I’m trying to get home or get to my mother’s house or get to my job, but I’ve lost my wallet or been mugged or been pick-pocketed, and if I don’t get help, I’ll be stuck in Midtown all night, miss my Mama’s moment of death, or lose my job again, so could you please spare five or ten or twenty dollars so I can get gas or a bus ticket or a MARTA pass and be on my way?”

At this point, then, I’m savvy enough to know what’s coming, so I resign myself to the inevitable request for cash.

My new friend closes in. He does not make eye contact. He does not extend a hand for me to shake. He doesn’t even slow down. Instead, as he speeds past me, he says, “Hey, can you give me a dollar so I can buy bread for my baby?”

He’s moving so fast, in fact, it’s like his words are distorted by the Doppler Effect:

“…hey can you Give Me A Dollar SO I CAN BUY Bread For my baby …?”

I knew I wasn’t going to give him money. He knew I wasn’t going to give him money. Apparently, he was so certain I wouldn’t give him money, he couldn’t even be bothered to slow down as he passed me … but he still felt compelled to make the request.

After he passed me, he scrambled up 10th Street, crossed Peachtree, and, soon, was lost from view.