Stranger

I was eight years old when he showed up at our door. I could tell just by looking at him that he was tired and hungry, and that surprised me. The only other people I had met in my life were all well off. He, obviously, wasn’t. His clothes hung across him in baggy tatters; I wondered how long it had been since he had been able to fill them out.

His skinny back was hunched forward and thin fingers rubbed pale arms as he spoke quietly to my mother. I looked up from my toys, curious, and saw that he wasn’t looking directly at her. He seemed to attempt eye contact a few times, but his gaze always slipped back down to the floor.

After a good five minutes, I saw my mother stiffen. Curtly, she said, “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m sure you understand.”

The man nodded dumbly, still looking away from her. He began to mutter again and turned away. My mother shut the door and I ran to the windows so I could watch him leave. He stumbled a few times, but didn’t seem to notice. All the while, he rubbed his arms. Like he was cold.

My mother saw me staring and closed the curtains. “Go back to your toys, sweetie,” she urged. I frowned, but complied. She watched me for a while before leaving, but as soon as she was gone I rushed out the door, closing it softly behind me. The first thing I noticed was the warm summer air. We’d had the air conditioning on inside, but out here the air was hot and humid, pressing down on me.

I saw the man at the doorstep of my neighbor’s house, and I watched as that one, too, was shut in his face. From what I could see, his expression did not change, but I was pretty far away. Plus, it was dark, and his face shadowed. I decided to move closer, ducking behind cars and bushes. I followed him all the way down the block and each time the performance was the same. He would knock on the door and wait patiently for somebody to answer. As soon as he had an audience, he would start talking. Soon, the door would be shut; he would be left outside. I realized the only variation each time was the amount of time he was allowed to talk. It was then that I mustered up the courage to talk to him myself.

He was turning the corner when I caught up with him, and I had to tug on his shirt before he noticed me. He was shivering fiercely, and I tried to smile at him.

“Hello,” I said politely.

“Hi,” he answered.

“Why do you keep going to everybody’s house?” I asked. He stared down at me without saying anything, and I wondered if I’d said something wrong. Or maybe he hadn’t heard me. “Why do you keep going to everybody’s house?” I asked again. Still, he said nothing, and I opened my mouth to ask again.

Before I could repeat myself, he said, “I need…a place to stay. I can’t…sleep on the street. Not tonight…not…not tonight.”

I tilted my head. “Why not?”

“I’ll…freeze…f-f-freeze.”

A bead of sweat trickled down my back, but he was still shivering. “What’s your name?”

“I can’t…I need…a  place to stay…if I…die, I’ll never see…Molly…don’t want to freeze…freeze…so cold…” His teeth chattered and I pulled at one of his hands. His fingers closed around mine, and I gasped—they were freezing.

His grip tightened and I smiled up at him. “I can help you,” I said. “If you’ll come with me.”

He nodded and looked away. I led him back down the street slowly, his hand in mine. We reached my house and I brought him towards the door.

“No,” he said, shaking his head violently. “No.”

I stopped walking. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Tried…house…already. They…say no.”

He had a point. My mother would certainly be no more welcoming now than she had been when he first came around. My shoulders sagged. I could not help this man. And then, seized by inspiration, I realized I could! I could help him!

I pulled on his arm and led him through the gate into the back yard. He looked confused, but he followed anyway, shivering. I led him to my tree house, and his eyes lit up. I clambered up the ladder and motioned for him to do the same. There was barely room for us, and he had to crouch to avoid the low blanket that acted as a ceiling. I grinned and pulled the blanket down. I handed it to the strange man, and he took it gladly. He continued to shake with a cold I couldn’t feel, and my heart went out to him.

“Do you need food?”

He shook his head. “No.”

I hesitated, unsure. He looked small and helpless, even to me. I didn’t want to leave him alone.

“Amy!”

My head jerked up. My mother had finally discovered my absence and was looking for me. I gave the man one last look before climbing down the ladder.

“Coming, Mom!”

~~~~

The next morning, I smuggled two pieces of toast under my shirt and ran to the tree house. I practically flew up the ladder, squishing some of the food in the process.

“Hey, I brought you some—.” My voice trailed off, and my energy faded. My shoulders slumped. He was gone.

I turned to leave and froze. Carved into the floorboards were two words.

“Thank you.”

I smiled.